by T S Paul
The library didn’t have much on the subject, other than most treatments were very dangerous without medical supervision. Our library wasn’t the most up-to-date of places. I’d been in the nurse's office more than once for fighting, so I knew the layout and what the lock on the door looked like. Breaking in was actually easier than working the locks on Grandmother’s room.
Talking to Torrance more, he’d told me how he did the injections and how much he actually took. Even though the nurse had medication for him, he still carried extra. His parents didn’t quite trust the school all that much. Old Mr. Meyer had given the place a bad reputation. It had worried me that taking his medicine might hurt an innocent kid.
“Cawk!”
“Shh, stupid bird,” I muttered. Sneaking out to see Grandfather was one thing, but going across town to the school after midnight would be really bad if I was caught. “What the hell are you, a night bird?”
The bird’s cries followed me all the way into the house. It was as if the blasted thing had been on the window sill, watching me. Which sounded crazy.
It was Friday night. Grandmother usually drank herself to sleep on the weekends, not bothering to come down for breakfast. I debated waiting a day, but figured it was now or never.
Torrance had said he took twenty units of the drug at meals. Looking at the syringe, I could see it went up to one hundred and fifty. Would that be enough? If I had time, I would give her as much as I could.
The one and only time I’d been in the hospital was last year. I’d gotten into a fight and had broken my arm falling down. They’d given me a series of shots at the hospital and I’d watched very carefully. Grandmother’s veins were so much easier to find than mine had been. She didn’t even wake when I accidentally hit her with the flashlight beam. Just a tiny prick and we were off to the races. One shot didn’t seem enough, so I gave her two. Three hundred units total. If nothing happened, I wanted to be able to give her another one just in case.
She groaned a few times but didn’t wake up. When her body started to shiver like she was naked in a snowstorm, I slipped out of the room. A few hours upstairs working on future schemes would keep my mind off her.
Hypoglycemia is a bad way to go.
Grandmother’s body shook uncontrollably for more than an hour as her blood glucose levels dropped lower and lower. Sweat poured from her unconscious body onto the sheets, soaking them. I could only stare in undisguised glee as her breathing became shallow. At one point I held a small mirror up to her lips to check. Her breathing was slow, but her heart was racing. I knew nothing of any health issues she might but it was all adding up. I knew nothing of any health issues she might have had, but whatever they were, diabetes medicine sure didn’t help them any.
Injecting her at three she was comatose by six. Pinching her belly fat on the other side of her body I gave her another massive dose of Torrance’s medicine to finish her off. Her final shuddering gasp took place while I ate with Grandfather out in the garage. It bothered me not to see it, but I needed to protect myself and Grandfather.
Nine
“Did you hear about the new guy up on six?” Chris asked me as I logged in for the evening.
“Who is it this time, the governor?” I asked. As usual, day shift had left us a huge pile of reports to file and mine was overflowing.
Closing the file in his hands, Chris turned towards me. “Nope. It’s Floyd Craven. If you can believe it, he fell off the second story balcony of the prison. The FBI thought the prison infirmary was too big a threat to him.”
“To him? They should’ve left him to die there. Bastard!” I remarked forcefully. Things were entirely too personal between Mr. Craven and me.
“I know, right? You’re from North Carolina, aren’t you?” Chris asked me.
I nodded as the memories flooded back to me. After Grandmother was dead and buried, things changed for the better, at least in the beginning.
The funeral was massive. Who knew there were this many people in our small town?
Grandfather was upset and in mourning for more than a week after the maid came screaming out of the house yelling that Grandmother was dead. Both the ambulance and her doctor said it was a combination of the alcohol and her heart that led to her death. But I wasn’t sure if I was in the clear or not.
Genevieve, I need you to be strong for this. Can you do it for me?” Grandfather asked me as the church began to fill up. The line went out the door and into the parking lot. Almost everyone was dressed in their Sunday best.
Not knowing what to say, I just nodded. Grandfather patted me on the head even as one of the town’s aldermen shook his hand. The church lady might be dead, but there were still the rituals of everyday life that needed to be attended to.
“I can’t believe she’s gone. We were just talking like yesterday,” Alderman Franks exclaimed. He patted my grandfather on the back, trying to reassure him. “Was it her heart?”
Grandfather nodded. “That’s what her doctor said. Sheriff Smith wanted me to authorize an autopsy, but I said no. You know how she was, the idea of strangers poking at her, even in death, would have horrified her.”
I could feel Grandfather’s eyes on me the entire time he was speaking. More than once during and after the funeral, I found him giving me furtive looks. I wasn’t sure if he suspected me or not.
“She was a tough old broad, that's for sure,” Franks stated. “We’ll miss her input at our council meetings.”
Grandfather shook his head giving the man a stern look. “No you won’t, and you can forget about any donations to your slush funds this year. Unlike her, I have no political aspirations.”
Franks pulled back from him. “What are you saying here?”
“Exactly what I said. My company is MY company. Now that I’m back in control, there will be a lot of changes, for the good,” he explained. “Mary Kay wanted different things than I did. This town will be better off without her influence, I think.”
The whispering all around us got louder and louder as Grandfather’s pronouncements made the circuit. Mary Kay might’ve wanted to be the queen, but Grandfather wasn’t a king. Back in corporate mode, he was more of a shark.
Hours later we both sat staring at Grandmother’s coffin. Still sitting in front of the church’s altar, it was a focal point. Not once had I approached it to see her. In my mind’s eye, I could still see her body trembling as she slipped from this plane of existence. That was the memory I wanted to last. Not one of her in a wooden box.
“Cat got your tongue?” Grandfather asked me.
Glancing in his direction, I saw that he had his full attention on me. “I was just thinking about my mother.”
He sighed. “Hannah made a lot of mistakes as a child, but she truly didn’t deserve what happened to her. She’s my daughter and I still love her.”
“Have you told her that? Grandmother did everything she could to drive her away.” I motioned towards the coffin and the body of the Church Lady.
“Who do you think paid the rent on the house you grew up in?” Grandfather explained. “I tried to help as much as your mother would allow me. Mary Kay…” He shook his head making a calming motion with one hand. “Your grandmother was a hard woman. The values she lived by were those her own mother taught her. When Hannah was pregnant with you, we both insisted that she name the father and get married. It’s what is expected in the world we live in. When she refused, Mary Kay and I reacted poorly. Our threats fell on deaf ears.” Grandfather chuckled. “Your mother is probably more hard-headed than I am. She just dug her feet in and held us off. And
for that, Mary Kay banished her. Pure mule-headed-stubbornness. Plain and simple. You take after her, you know. There are times I see her in you. That same exact scowl on both your faces.”
Grandfather placed a finger against his lips as he stared into my eyes. “You have a power in you that when tapped makes you unstoppable in your need to prove things. I’ve watched you closer than even you know. Forget
what she might have wanted for you in this life. What do you want?”
He was watching me? Just how much did he know? Too many thoughts raced through my head. Was he going to turn me in? Bringing justice to those that wronged me had been my goal for the past five years. I had a list. It was pretty short now with grandmother and the headmaster gone but there were still plenty of folks around town I hadn’t met yet to possibly add to it.
Grandmother treated me like a trophy or even her own personal pet. Something she could trot out to show off to her friends and neighbors. A work in progress. I wanted to help people, but at the same time I had needs.
Misunderstanding my concern, Grandfather continued on with his questions. “I ask this because I’m in a position to help you now. She ultimately wanted you to go to college, her alma mater, then learn to the company business at her knee. Business according to Mary Kay though.” He paused for a moment. Glancing at the coffin he smiled. “Other than the cars in the garage, you’ve never shown me any interest in the firm we run. I’ve seen those books you read as well. Does law enforcement interest you? I’m sure the sheriff could recommend you to the police academy.”
Fut the wah? My brain stuttered to a halt. Jerking awake out of the panic-induced haze, I met Grandfather’s eyes. “No. That’s not for me, thank you. Do you think I would be a good nurse?”
Grandfather smiled. Rubbing his hands together, he started to nod. “Your grades aren’t the best in the world, but medical schools always need money, and nepotism isn’t dead. Let me make some calls. If you are truly interested I might be able to get you into something like that. But…”
Wincing, I braced myself for bad news.
“...you have to bring your grades up some and graduate first. Can you do that for me?” he asked.
I nodded. “Sure. I can do that.”
“Excellent. And no more nighttime excursions. You’ve been incredibly lucky so far,” Grandfather replied ignoring my look of shock. He stood up, not looking at me. “We need to go. They’re waiting for us at the restaurant.”
Back into panic mode I went. Just how much did he know and how? Numbly, I followed him out of the church. Death and food went hand in hand in the south. Now it was time to put on a fake smile, ignore the whispers, nod and stuff my face with food.
Ten
Freedom!
Leaving Dickerson and starting school was a new chapter in my life, both good and bad. Getting away from the town and all the whispers related to it was a good thing. There were too many potential suspicious questions associated with me there. It was better for Grandfather that I left, anyway. He needed to live his life.
North Carolina State was supposed to be a new start for me, but circumstances beyond my control put me on my current path instead. It was at school that I met Floyd Craven for the first time.
Whether you called him the Campus Killer, BRK (beat, rape, kill), the East Coast Killer, or the Carolina Reaper, everyone in America had heard of Craven at one point. He’d been killing for years under a half dozen fake names and methods. Public enemy number one, according to the FBI. I knew his reputation from my research into serial killers and methodology. It was easier to learn from others’ mistakes than commit them myself. The year I started school was the same year that Craven appeared on campus.
His identity managed to stay hidden for so long because of politics. Craven joined the Army at eighteen just in time to be shipped overseas. Thrown into the maw of the Horde early on, he and his unit were decorated by the President himself for bravery above and beyond. Evil recognizes evil, apparently. When he returned home, he involved himself in the political machine that ran Washington.
Craven was the type of yes-man you wanted on your side if up for re-election. He had the natural ability to get people to do things they didn’t want to do. It has been said was an empath, or a mind-magic user. That is, he had the power to manipulate the weak-minded. Polling and community activism were his specialties. His father, a traveling minister and faith healer, trained him early on to follow in his footsteps but the lure of the military nixed all that.
Free access to college campuses and community groups helped with choosing victims, as well.
Craven killed at least one girl a month everywhere he went. His primary method was simple. He’d get them alone, beat them half to death, sexually assault them, and finally kill them. Cutting the victim’s head off was his particular signature. If killers were like rock stars, Craven would have been in the hall of fame. Law enforcement didn’t have a clue as to where he was or how to catch him.
It was at NC State that I ran into him and was almost his girl of the month. Almost.
“Excuse me, can...can you give me a hand?”
I was sitting under a tree on the campus quad, catching up on my reading. The nursing program I was enrolled in was way more science intensive than Dickerson High ever got. I’d gotten through the college science remedial class pretty well, but many of the big words really got me. It took almost twice as long to read the chapters on medical care than it took for the psychology class I was in.
Looking up, I could see a tall, thin, nice looking, well-dressed man standing next to one of the park benches. There was a small pile of books next to him. Looking closer, I could see his left arm was in a sling strapped close to his chest.
“I’ve got a broken wing and need to take all of these.” He motioned toward the books then pointed across the quad. “Way over there to my car.”
Following his finger, I could see a bright yellow VW bug sitting under a small copse of trees.
I closed my book and stuffed it back into my tote bag. “How did you get all of them here?” I asked as I stood up, brushing the grass and dirt off my pants.
“A friendly soul. Too many papers, not enough time. My professors don’t care about my injury at all,” he replied with a smile.
Pursing my lips, I stared at him. NC State was both a medical college and a technical institute. It surprised me that the instructors wouldn’t make arrangements for him. They did for me and my reading issues. Ignoring my thoughts, I answered him. “Sure. I can help you.”
As I drew closer I could see there were a lot of books in the pile. “Wow, that is a bunch. How many classes are you taking?”
“Too many, if you listen to my advisor. I’m trying to finish up in less than two years. Big family job waiting for me,” he replied. Holding out his hand he introduced himself, “Name’s John Draven.”
Just as I was about to take his hand I heard the cawing of a crow. It made me look skyward. “Sorry, birds,” I said, as if that was an answer.
His hand forgotten, I reached for the books. Taking about half of them, I held them out to John. “If you can handle these, the rest should be easy.”
John frowned. I could tell it wasn’t his plan. But I gave them to him anyway. “Got them?”
“Yes, my car’s the yellow bug,” John replied with a slight grimace.
Letting him lead the way, I scooped up the other books and started after him. Halfway across the quad, disaster happened.
“Ka-caw! Ka-caw!”
Two large crows swooped out of the sky right in front of John. Up close they were like flying cats, larger and bigger than life. One brushed John’s head, while the other hit the pile of books held precariously against his chest.
“Look out!” I yelled, even as the birds hit him.
John staggered back, away from the bird that hit him. Books slid off, making the man tip sideways. As he fell, his broken arm, the one in the sling, slipped out to brace him against the ground as he hit with thump, books everywhere. “Oof!”
Frozen in mid-step, I started to reach for him to help when I noticed his arm. “Hey?”
“Ka-caw! Ka-caw!”
The birds cried out as they circled us, swooping low as if to peck at John.
“Eew!” John cried out in disgust as he tried to wipe the bird poop from his face and hair with his left hand.
“That arm’
s not broken,” I told him, taking a step backwards.
Looking down at his grime-covered hand, he cursed. “It was just a sprain. Sorry I lied to you.”
“Sure it was, and breaking your fall didn’t hurt?” I tossed the armful of books to one side looking in all directions. Campus security was just on the other side of the main building from where I was. “Not falling for it.”
Breaking into a run I headed to safety. John and his books were gone when I returned with one of the officers. I’d given my description, but “John” didn’t turn back up. Not that year at least.
“You okay?” Chris asked me.
“Yeah, I was just remembering something. I was at NC State when Craven killed all those girls. Some of them were in my classes,” I explained to him.
Running his hands through his hair, Chris gave me a long look of sympathy. “Bad?”
I nodded. “Oh, yeah. All the reports in the world couldn’t have stopped him.”
In some small way I had to hand it to Craven. He’d skipped us because of me but then we became his primary target. Not that I would’ve told the police that. Recognizing him for what he was might’ve given me away, as well. What a year that was, though. His name in the press had shifted from the Campus Slasher to BRK. Leave it to the press to come up with memorable nicknames you’d soon forget.
I was in the second year of a three-year program. They’d fast tracked some of us beyond what freshmen were taking. Some called it the AP or advanced placement class, but it was just those of us scoring in the top ten percent of class. It was the early days of the women’s rights movement and the medical field was where they all wanted to be. It was like an old science fiction novel I read in high school. “Make room, make room.” The school needed us out to free up the dorms. That simple.
Craven was identified and arrested in Rhode Island at a random traffic stop. It was sheer chance that a local patrolman saw him run a stop sign. The cop pulled him over in his VW, the same one I’d seen. The officer noticed that the passenger seat was missing and burglary tools, rope, a ski mask, trash bags, and handcuffs were lying on the floor. Further investigation matched the bug to a singular report from Delaware of a matching car in a kidnapping. The evidence was weak, but enough to hold him. His apartment was searched by police and college handbooks for more than a dozen campuses were discovered. That alone wasn’t enough, so he was released but watched.
