Prey Drive

by James White, Wrath

  “I’ve had better days, Professor.”

  The professor took a quick glance at his bandages.

  “I heard you were in a pretty vicious altercation.”

  Joe shrugged.

  “I guess so.”

  “You broke the guy’s leg, tore some muscles in his shoulder, and he stabbed you a few times.”

  Joe nodded.

  “But you didn’t bite him.”

  “No, sir. I didn’t bite him.”

  The professor stroked the whiskers on his chin, and then looked over his glasses at Joe.

  “That’s progress, Joe. I’m sure you could have ripped him apart had you wanted to.”

  “Oh, I wanted to. I just didn’t. I didn’t want to get sent back to supermax.”

  “Still, that’s progress. I don’t think you’d have been able to exhibit that sort of control even a few weeks ago. Do you think the ketamine is helping?”

  “I don’t have the same urges. Not as often or as intense as before.”

  The professor nodded and then scribbled something in a small notebook he carried.

  “May I ask you a question, Joseph?”

  “Of course. Anything, professor.”

  The professor continued staring at Joe for a while before speaking. His eyes were like microscopes, studying Joe on some subatomic level where all his pretensions and affectations became transparent.

  “I watched you in your cell, before you were transferred out of supermax …”

  Joe’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed.

  “Yes? And?”

  “And you were doing some sort of shadowboxing routine …”

  Wincing, Joe sat up in bed. Clearly interested now in what the professor was about to ask him.

  “Is this what you were training for? This type of thing?”

  “In a manner of speaking, you could say that.”

  The professor nodded, but his face did not look entirely convinced.

  “I met a man the other day, a mixed martial artist. I told him about you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you, Joseph. He said you’d probably make an excellent fighter. What do you think about that, Joseph?”

  Joe shrugged.

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Well, I think that might be a good career for you if you ever get out of this place. It would be a way to channel your natural aggression.”

  Joe shrugged.

  “Maybe. I don’t think they’d let me take ketamine before fights though.”

  “Maybe you won’t need it. There’s a sea sickness drug that affects the glutamate receptors the same way as ketamine. It’s non-addictive and I don’t think any state athletic commission would have a problem with it. In the meantime, I found a new drug I’d like to try with you called Riluzole. It is specifically designed to modulate the glutamate receptors just like ketamine.”

  Joe cocked his head and smirked at Professor Locke, searching the aging scholar’s eyes for whatever was motivating this talk.

  “Professor, do you want me to fight?”

  Professor Locke took a long, deep breath.

  “Joseph, I am just considering all the possibilities.”

  Joe raised an eyebrow.

  “Do you think fighting would help me control my urges?”

  “I think it would help you channel those violent impulses. Now that we know you can protect yourself without losing control. It may be something to look into.”

  Joe stared at him for a long moment before he responded. He thought about his fight with the big transvestite and his destruction of Armondo.

  “I don’t really enjoy fighting, Professor. I don’t want to be violent anymore. I want to be cured.”

  Professor Locke nodded and patted Joe on the shoulder.

  “I understand, son. I am merely trying to present you with options.”

  The professor handed Joe some pills and a cup of water.

  “Is this the Riluzole?”

  “Yes. The ketamine might cause a bad reaction with the other pain killers you’re on. This should be safe.”

  Joe palmed the pills as he pretended to take them and drink the water. He opened his mouth and lifted his tongue so the doctor could see that the pills were gone. Professor Locke nodded and turned to leave then turned back around and looked at Joe over the top of his glasses.

  “Joseph?”

  “Yes, Professor?”

  “If you don’t enjoy fighting, why do you spend so much time in your cell practicing fighting moves?”

  Joe suppressed a grin, but not before the professor caught it. They stared at each other, reading one another’s thoughts as clearly as if they had been written in the air between them.

  “Those are just exercises, Professor.”

  They both knew he was lying. Professor Locke opened his mouth to reply but thought better of it and turned to leave again.

  “Take care of yourself, Joseph.”

  Professor Locke patted Joe on the leg and smiled warmly before walking down the hall and exiting the infirmary.

  Joe stared at the closing door for several long minutes before he slipped the pills into a book he was reading, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. He then closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. The sights and smells of the hospital ward were awakening all of Joe’s predatory instincts. The smell of blood was overpowering. The sick, injured, and elderly lined both walls. Even injured, Joe knew he could have taken down any one of them and fed until his stomach burst. It had been more than a week now since his last ketamine injection. Not since before his injury. Its effects had worn off and his prey drive was at full throttle for the first time since his incarceration. Every instinct within him was calling out for him to feed the monster, but it wasn’t time yet.

  His eyes were closed and he was breathing in slow, measured breaths when he heard and then smelled the man standing above his bed. He smelled like Skittles and cigarettes. Joe opened his eyes and looked at the wild-eyed man smiling down at him. He was dressed in a blue trustee’s uniform and carrying a mop. He had brown eyes and hair and was wearing thin, rectangular glasses. Joe recognized the man. He’d seen him around mopping the floor, changing bedpans, and bringing mail to the patients. He always had some sort of horror novel sticking out of his back pocket. Today it was something about zombies by an author named Nate Southard that Joe had never heard of. The trustee was just under six feet and soft in all the right places. Joe felt his stomach growl and the monster slowly unfurl in his pants, awakening, mean and ravenous.

  “You’re Joseph Miles, right? I read all about you. Damn, you really do look like Clark Kent! Well, like a twisted, evil version of Clark Kent, like Superman after a dose of red Kryptonite. But I bet you look just like him when you’re all cleaned up.”

  Joe continued to stare at the trustee, watching his carotid artery pulsate along the side of his neck. He could feel his self-control slipping. He needed to feed. It was the only way to heal his injuries fast enough. The doctors would take weeks, but Joe knew that a fresh kill, devouring the living energy of a vibrant soul, would make him stronger.

  “There was a girl here to see you a couple days ago.”

  Joe paused.

  “A girl? Lana?”

  The trustee shook his head.

  “She said her name was Selene. That’s what the guards told me. They tell me everything. People trust me around here.”

  “Did she say what she wanted?”

  The trustee grinned and blushed a little.

  “They said she was here for a conjugal visit. It was unusual. That’s why they told me. She had permission from the warden and everything. They don’t usually allow conjugal visits in this prison. Not even for married inmates. That’s what was so unusual. The trailer they used to use for conjugals is just used for storage now. She isn’t even married to you. I’d have known if she was. I’ve read all about your case. How you ate that librarian alive and then roasted that guy alive on a spit. That was so sick!
I couldn’t believe it when I read about it.”

  The trustee leaned down and whispered in Joe’s ear. Joe had an almost irresistible urge to bite a chunk out of the man’s face as he leaned in close.

  “I tried it. After I read about what you did. I tried it. I’m in here for attempted rape, but they don’t know about the others.”

  The man stood back up, puffing out his chest, waiting for Joe’s approval.

  “Is she coming back?’

  “Who? The girls I …”

  “Selene. Did she say she was coming back?”

  “Yes. She said she was going to stay in town and she wasn’t leaving until they let her have her conjugal visit. She wants you bad, man.”

  He leaned down and whispered in Joe’s ear again.

  “I can get you out of here.”

  Joe looked at the man in surprise. The trustee was smiling and nodding.

  “I help take out the inmates that don’t make it. You know, the ones that die. I put them in a pine box and stick them on the truck and the state takes them away and cremates ’em. I can put you on that truck.”

  Joe’s eyes narrowed.

  “Why? Why would you do that for me?”

  The trustee’s smile widened.

  “Because you’re my hero. I read all about your case and then when I found out you were coming here I couldn’t wait to meet you. But they put you away in supermax where no one could see you.” His voice dropped even lower. “Then I heard you mutilated that piece of shit Luscious.”

  Joe couldn’t place the name at first and his confusion must have shown on his face because the trustee quickly refreshed his memory.

  “That big, black fucker with the braids that you were in a cockfight with. He used to try to hurt me. He said he was going to fuck me in the ass. That’s just how he said it. That crude bastard. If he’s going to try and rape me, you’d think he could at least be a little nicer about it. Try a little romance or something. I was scared to death of that big sonuvabitch. I heard rumors about what he did to people. Hell, I even saw some of them come through here with their anuses prolapsed from that big, black bastard’s cock ripping up their insides. And he wanted to do that to me? No, thank you. My asshole is strictly exit only. I made a shank just in case he tried anything, but I didn’t really think I’d have a chance even with a shank. But you fixed that. He ain’t gonna be hurtin’ nobody no more. Not without a dick.”

  Joe nodded.

  “Then, that Mexican guy you ripped apart? He was going to shank me because I wouldn’t give him my cornbread. He asked me for it in the cafeteria and I was hungry and they don’t usually have cornbread. It might be a year before they have it again. So I said no and he tried to stab me. I climbed up on the table and was running around the cafeteria trying to get away from him. Then the guards grabbed him and threw him in a strip cell. Next I heard, he was in a fight with you and got his face ripped off. You’re like my guardian angel. It’s like you were helping me out and you didn’t even know it. Like we were destined for each other. I’m not a homo or anything. Don’t worry. I just like reading scary shit and you’re the scariest of the scary and you’re real. I can’t even believe I’m talking to you! It’s like having a conversation with Jeffery Dahmer or Ed Gein. What a trip!”

  Joe was patient and just let the man talk before interrupting with a single word.

  “When?”

  “Whenever you want. You can go tonight if you want. I’ve got a couple stiffs to take out in the morning. As long as that truck leaves the yard before they notice you’re gone and lock the place down, then you’re home free. You got anyone who can pick you up on the outside? Eventually they’re going to notice you’re gone. You want to be off that truck and on your way before they stop it and search it.”

  “I may know somebody,” Joe said. “What’s your name by the way?”

  “Nathan. Nathan Felizzi.”

  “Okay, Nathan. Let’s do it tonight.”

  Nathan smiled and seemed on the verge of jumping for joy. Then he paused and looked over Joe’s injuries.

  “Are you sure you can make it?”

  Joe considered it a moment. He wanted to get out of here so bad the idea of waiting even until the sunset was killing him. He needed to feed. He needed to find his grandfather and destroy the curse forever. He needed to be free in every sense of the word. But realistically, he’d probably die if he tried to escape now. At the very least, he’d be caught or wouldn’t have the strength to kill his grandfather when he finally found him. He needed to wait until he was stronger, but not too long. The hospital was the perfect place to escape from. If he missed this opportunity, he didn’t know when he’d get another.

  “A week. Give me a week.”

  “Awesome!”

  Joe stared at the man, thinking how much he resembled his old friend, Frank. Older, pudgier, but otherwise the spitting image. He wondered if he’d taste the same.

  “Will you be coming with me, Nathan?”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Really.”

  “I don’t know. I think the screws would notice if we both left. I practically run this place. I wish you could take me with you though. I’d love to go on the run with you. Talk about a story to tell the grandkids.”

  Joe was already imagining the many ways Nathan could come in handy on a long road trip. Joe watched Nathan as he continued talking about his love of horror novels and how he felt so lucky to have met the infamous serial killer, Joseph Miles, and how they were linked by destiny. He was starting to believe him. What else but destiny could have brought them together right when Joe’s appetite was at its peak? He imagined Nathan flopping around like a fish while Joe plopped sushi-sized morsels of flesh from his vivisected body, rooting around in the trustee’s guts with chopsticks.

  “Okay, Joe,” Nathan whispered, shielding his face with one hand to block his face from any lip-reading inmates. “I’ll be back in the morning to talk more.”

  Joe nodded and smiled. It was all coming together. He had a couple more people he needed to talk to. Even with another week to rehabilitate, there was no way he could get out of the prison with just him and Nathan. Not without some inside help. He needed to talk to Cindy. He would also need help on the outside and that meant getting in touch with Selene and Dirk.

  “Nurse? Nurse? I need to make a phone call.”

  Part IV

  Yin Yang (Dead and Alive)

  1 dozen egg yolks

  7 1/2 cups ice water

  9 3/4 cups flour, sifted

  One small long pig (alive)

  In a large bowl, place the egg yolks. Add iced water gradually, stirring (preferably with hashi(chopsticks)) and blending well. Add flour all at once. Stir BRIEFLY, well enough to coat but leave the lumps and bumps!

  To fry long pig, heat a large frying pan with 6-inches of oil (or more if necessary) and heat on high. Coat selected body parts in batter and fry until golden brown. Recommend restraints be used during this process as there will be much screaming and thrashing about during the cooking process. While coating the long pig's entire body up to the neck in batter and frying whole is preferred, this is often difficult. Frying them piece by piece is acceptable and still produces the desired freshness and crispiness. Long pig should still be alive and breathing, preferably still crying and moaning when served.

  Thirty-Two

  Waiting alone in the hotel room was maddening.

  How dare they keep me from my Joseph, Selene thought. I’ll sue the fuck out of these bastards!

  The more Selene thought about it, the angrier she became. It had been days since she’d arrived and no one would let her anywhere near her cannibal lover. She couldn’t even call him on the phone because there were no telephones in the prison hospital and the warden told her Joseph was still too weak to walk to a phone.

  How could they let this happen?

  She could not imagine Joseph ever being weak. He was like a force of nature. The warden said he’d been stabb
ed multiple times, but that he’d broken his attacker’s leg and shoulder. It was good to know he hadn’t just laid there like a punk and allowed himself to be victimized. That would have completely shattered her image of him. She didn’t know how anyone could have hurt her powerful super-predator. Part of her didn’t want to see Joseph laid up in a hospital, humbled, but she needed his curse in order to finally be free of her own. If she had to scoot his bed pan over and crawl into bed with him in order to get what she needed, she would.

  Back in high school, they called her a “cold fish,” “ice princess,” “prude.” At first, the guys had all been afraid of her because of her father’s rumored Mafia connections. Then, it was her puritanical clothing and her conservative ideas, the product of a strict religious upbringing, that had branded her “unfuckable.” Even after Selene had shaken her Catholic guilt and deeply-ingrained aversion to sex, her inability to achieve an orgasm had solidified the painful labels. So, she’d begun faking it to fit in.

  She feigned an interest in sex she didn’t really feel, and mimicked and then exaggerated the passion she saw in others. Sex was a dramatic performance done to convince her partners that she actually felt something, that she felt anything. She endured a long procession of inadequate lovers, lying beneath them as they grunted and thrust inside of her or lapped at her clit like they were in a race to the finish, trying to win a prize at a carnival in a maddening effort to bring her to orgasm until, frustrated and annoyed, seething in a silent fury, Selene would scream and moan and fake a quiver in her legs so they’d stop fumbling around with her private parts. When they were done, she quickly ushered them out the door, out of her sight.

  By the time she was a junior in college, Selene had completely transformed herself. She wore suggestive clothing, tank-tops, baby T-shirts, short shorts and mini-skirts, walking and talking in a manner that would have made any man within eyesight think she was for sale. She looked and acted like a nymphomaniac, all to profess a sexuality she didn’t possess.

  In her quest to avoid total asexuality, Selene began to experiment. She tried both women and men; sometimes simultaneously. The women were better, but in the end, she was still left teetering on the edge of orgasm, never finding someone who could tip her over that awesome precipice. She tried bondage, S&M, humiliation, both as a submissive and a dom. Again, she found the thrill exhilarating, like a rollercoaster that left her breathless, entertained, but far from satisfied. She participated in orgies, gangbangs, tried tantric sex, golden showers, skat, blood play, bestiality, nearly every conceivable act of debauchery known to man short of pederasty. Nothing worked, but every experience altered her, changed her, warped her.