Abomination

by E. E. Borton

  Every muscle in Ryan’s body wanted to propel him towards the house. Every second Arrington was out of sight, he could be dealing horrific pain to his powerless victim. He had to calm himself down by remembering the superhuman speed and strength of the Marine. He knew he had to wait until the monster was about to engage in the first act of his sick addiction. He had to wait until Arrington’s otherwise razor sharp mind and senses were overloaded with the ecstasy of the moment. It was the only time the soldier would be weak enough to overpower.

  The five minutes he waited concealed in the tree line seemed like five hours to Ryan and his team. He looked to his left and right to give a non-verbal signal to the other three that he was about to move. Ryan rose out of his cover and quickly traversed the open area between the staging position and the back door of the farmhouse. Dallas, Michelle, and Tom followed in close quarters with their weapons aimed at the house. The single file line of swiftly moving agents was the signal for Bravo team to advance to the front door. Charlie team followed Alpha once they confirmed Bravo was on the move. Charlie took cover behind the Jeep as Alpha waited for them to set into position. The countdown started. Ryan had sixty seconds to get inside and find the Marine before Bravo team kicked in the front door.

  Once again, Ryan was slightly baffled by Arrington’s behavior. He had left the back door ajar. The window the team assumed they’d need to breach was also left open. Ryan easily removed the loose screen from the window frame. He quietly placed it on the ground and took a moment to assess the room inside. There were no obvious signs of traps, tripwires or any devices to alert the Marine of an intrusion. There seemed to be no preparation at all.

  The agents entered through the window into the large open room and cleared the space in seconds. The only sounds produced by the team were heavy breathing and the occasional creak of the old wooden floors. An archway separated the cleared room from an even larger area which seemed to be a living room. Once cleared, they silently moved into a hallway connecting the front door to the back. The scientist had informed Ryan that, even though Arrington’s eyesight was incredibly sharp, he only possessed a slight advantage at night. The geneticist still hadn’t discovered how to effectively give the Marines the ability to see in the dark. When Ryan entered the hallway, his NVGs alerted him to a light source emitting from the bottom of a closed door. It was faint, but definitely man made.

  With his team behind him and time running out before things were going to get loud, Ryan quietly opened the door. A staircase was revealed leading down to the basement. As he placed his foot on the first step, the light intensified as if a lantern were turned up to maximum brightness. All four agents reached up and slid their NVGs to the top of their helmets. They were nearing the bottom of the stairwell when they heard a woman’s voice.

  “I’ll do anything you want me to do,” she said, surprisingly calm. “I promise. Anything. Please just don’t kill me. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “I wish I could stop myself,” said Arrington, in a surprisingly emotional voice. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “What’s happening to your face?” asked the bound woman. “Oh, my God!”

  Ryan hit the last step and raised his weapon towards the voices. In the far corner about twenty yards across the expanse of a wide open room, Arrington was leaning over the victim who was lying in a bed, bound to the posts. At first glance, it looked to Ryan as if he was kissing her cheek. But she began screaming in agony.

  “FBI! Show me your hands!” yelled Ryan, moving in closer. The scene was confusing to the agents. The woman was screaming, but the Marine’s hands were visible and he wasn’t holding a weapon; he wasn’t choking her; he wasn’t hitting her. At that distance, it still only looked like he was kissing the side of her face.

  “Arrington! Back away from her and show me your fucking…”

  The instant Ryan saw the blood erupt from the side of her neck he fired three rounds into Arrington’s ribcage. The killer’s face was too close to the girl for a clean headshot. The Marine tensed his body as the bullets drilled through skin and bone. Dallas also fired a three-round burst into Arrington’s back.

  In an inhumanly fast and fluid motion, the monster nearly decapitated his victim with what could only be described as claws on a grossly disfigured hand. With his other hand he easily hurled the large king-sized bed at the agents with the victim still tied to the posts. Each dove in a different direction as the bed slammed into the wall behind them. Before they could regain their senses, Arrington was flying up the stairs.

  Bravo team had already made entry and was moving through the upstairs hall from the front door when all hell broke loose in the basement. Arrington’s momentum propelled him into the wall at the top of the stairs. The lead agent on Bravo team immediately opened fire drilling more bullets into his body. He turned away from the intense gunfire and exploded through the back door and right into Charlie team’s advance.

  Arrington ran over the first agent; he was the lucky one. The Marine lashed out and tore through the second agent’s throat with his clawed hand. A geyser of blood sprayed several feet from the cavernous wound. The doomed man spun several times like a rag doll before dropping dead on the ground. The third in line was powerless to stop the thrust of Arrington’s hand punching deep into his abdominal cavity. He was propelled nearly 15 feet before stopping and bleeding out in seconds. The fourth agent stood his ground and continuously fired his weapon into the monster who quickly turned away from the determined shooter.

  The dozens of bullets already inside Arrington managed to slow him down to normal human speed, but he was still able to run towards the open field. One of the countless bullets Charlie and Bravo teams were firing at the killer finally severed his spinal cord. The monster dropped only twenty feet from the cornfield that may have offered him an escape. He pushed himself up with his arms and tried to crawl away from his pursuers. As the lead agent on Bravo team approached, Arrington’s head exploded like a watermelon being smashed with a sledgehammer. The impact was so violent that it caused the agents in pursuit to hit the deck; a sniper would be claiming the kill shot.

  Ryan and Dallas bolted through the back door seconds after Arrington fell. Tom and Michelle, who were trained medics, stayed with the victim in the basement. A few agents were still on the ground after the sniper shot. Ryan and Dallas kept their weapons aimed at the headless corpse as they approached.

  “Bravo and Charlie, do not approach the target,” ordered Ryan. “Check on the downed agents. I don’t want you to re-enter the house either. We’ll clear the rest of the rooms.”

  Nobody spoke as Ryan gave instructions. They were all baffled on how the Marine took dozens of rounds and stayed on his feet. They were also baffled on how he managed to nearly decapitate one agent and punch a fist-sized hole in the abdomen of another; it was obvious they both died instantly. Ryan and Dallas knelt beside Arrington’s body after they were convinced he was truly dead.

  “Look at his hands,” said Dallas, observing the long fingers with two-inch nails resembling claws.

  “I knew there was going to be some deformity, but I think it was slightly understated in the briefing,” responded Ryan.

  “Slightly understated? Did you see his fucking face in the basement?” asked Dallas. “He was pale as a ghost. Look at the skin around his neck. He looks like a zombie.”

  “There wasn’t much light down there, but I agree,” said Ryan. “You definitely don’t see that every day. Could just be blood loss.”

  “I guess,” acknowledged Dallas. “But still.”

  “I know, Dallas,” said Ryan. “I have a few questions myself. Stay here with him until I come back. Nobody gets close. Understand?”

  “I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” said Dallas, looking over at the agents huddled around their two downed men.

  As ordered earlier, Ryan slid a battery in his cell phone and immediately called the deputy director. He informed him Arrington was dead and the scientists were
cleared to enter the property. He returned to the basement to check on Michelle and Tom.

  “Is the freak dead?” asked Tom.

  “Very,” replied Ryan. “Sniper literally took his head off. But he killed two of ours before he went down.”

  “Damn it,” said Tom. “I really thought we had the drop on him. It was like he didn’t even know we were there until you interrupted him.”

  “This poor girl was probably dead before she hit the wall,” said Michelle, kneeling over the victim. “She’s nearly decapitated. Did he have a hatchet or a knife?”

  “Not that I saw,” said Ryan. “But his fingernails are about two inches long. When he rose up, I just saw blood pumping out of her neck.”

  “They weren’t joking about his speed and strength,” said Michelle.

  “No, they weren’t,” said Ryan. “We need to assemble outside and wait for the forensic team. There’s nothing we can do for her now.”

  “Boss?”

  “Yeah, Tom.”

  “Take a quick look down here before you go up. I cleared the other rooms when you and Dallas were upstairs. You’re going to want to see what’s in there.”

  “Not a word to anyone else about what we saw, Tom,” said Ryan, in a commanding tone. “You either, Michelle. This stays with us for now, okay?”

  “Got it,” responded both as they left the basement.

  Ryan stood alone next to the woman still bound to the broken bed. Her lifeless eyes were only half closed. He clenched his teeth and thought if they had entered the house one minute earlier, she may have survived. There was a sense of guilt for not advancing on Arrington as soon as he stepped out of the Jeep.

  He turned away from the woman to take a closer look at the monster’s torture chamber. The only light source in the basement was an oil lamp on a nightstand. Ryan’s mind briefly wandered to the file folders containing photos from Arrington’s first murder scene in New York. He expected to see a table covered with the tools he would’ve used to rape and disembowel his prize. He imagined pools of blood on the floor and organs sitting like trophies in glass jars lining the shelves.

  Arrington’s first victim was discovered in the furnace room of a steel mill that went out of business years ago. The beautiful 23-year-old medical student from Syracuse University died on a filthy floor after experiencing what could only be described as unimaginable pain. He kept her alive for two days as he repeatedly raped and tortured her. The autopsy revealed he started IVs and gave her fluids to combat shock and keep her aware. There were only trace amounts of painkillers and anesthetics. His intent wasn’t to relieve her agony. It was for her to see and feel as much as possible without passing out.

  Forensics also proved he curled up beside her and held the victim close in the final moments of her young, promising life. Those final moments came after she received a deep cut starting at her breastbone and ending below her navel; the mattress was soaked in her blood. The report stated not all of her organs were recovered from the scene. Ryan fully expected to discover them somewhere near where he was standing.

  He removed the high-powered flashlight from the end of his weapon. As he lit up the large room, the reality of Arrington’s torture chamber was completely different from the photos in the case files. It was meticulously clean and in order.

  Ryan deducted he must have moved the entire contents of one of the upstairs bedrooms down to the basement. Each piece of furniture was carefully cleaned and restored to its original condition. There were no medieval tools lined up on top of the dressers and no jars containing the organs of past victims. He turned to look at the bed Arrington used as a weapon. Other than the blood from the victim’s neck wound, the sheets were pristine. He looked down at his feet and noticed the lack of dirt on the old farmhouse’s concrete basement floor. He turned his light upward and couldn’t find one cobweb attached to any corner of the room. There was no dust on any of the flat surfaces. Had he been anywhere else, Ryan would’ve thought of the room as cozy and comfortable. The exact opposite of anything he expected to see.

  He noticed a door at the far end of the room. As he opened it, he was hit with a slight breeze of stale air. It was a large unfinished space with a dirt floor. His light illuminated tall stacks of old wooden produce crates lined up against the walls. Ryan noticed a gap between two stacks. As he approached, he observed an opening had recently been created through the wall. When he lit up the darkness on the other side, he saw four graves. Three were covered with mounds of settling dirt. The fourth was still open.

  Anyone walking through that hole in the wall would’ve instantly recognized the mounds as graves. Not because of the shape or recently disturbed earth, but because each was marked with a wooden cross bearing a name. The first cross had the name Laura Ackerman and the date she was murdered. The same woman Sheriff Bill Parker mentioned during the brief the previous morning.

  Against the specific orders of the deputy director, Ryan used the camera on his phone to take several pictures of the gruesome cemetery. He took several more of the adjoining rooms before he heard the rotors of approaching helicopters. He left the crime scene and regrouped with the agents outside. The two aircraft landed as flashing blue strobes and headlights from several fast moving vehicles were visible approaching the farmhouse.

  4

  Doubt

  Three black SUVs with tinted windows stopped only a few feet from Arrington’s headless body. The doors opened quickly on the first two, spilling out nearly a dozen heavily armed security personnel forming a perimeter around the corpse. Ryan noticed more security personnel deploying from helicopters in a field next to the house.

  One of the new arrivals approached Arrington with his weapon ready and reached down to check for a pulse. It seemed a little odd since he was missing his head, but after what they just experienced, Ryan understood the caution. The trooper squeezed the talk button on his radio and announced the target was indeed dead. The doors on the third SUV opened and four men in black coveralls carrying large tackle boxes walked up to Ryan and his team.

  “I need to speak with Special Agent Ryan Pearson,” said the first set of coveralls.

  “That would be me.”

  “Agent Pearson, my name is Scott Wilson. I’m a biochemist with the Michaels Laboratory assigned to the Didache program. I’m here to recover the body of Peter Arrington and debrief your team. I’m assuming containment was difficult?”

  “I’ve been expecting you, Scott,” said Ryan, slightly irritated. “Your Didache project pet gave us one hell of a fight. He killed two of my agents before a sniper put him down. Containment wasn’t a priority once we figured out shooting him with little bullets wasn’t working. I believe almost everyone here put their eyes on him. So to answer your question, yes, containment was difficult.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Scott, in a disarming tone.

  “Excuse me?” asked Ryan, a little puzzled.

  “The agents you lost. I’m sorry, Ryan. I promise you we’ll take good care of them. Once we finish processing the area, we’ll be taking them to an airstrip about six miles from here. The deputy director is making arrangements to get them home.”

  “I appreciate that, Scott. What about the rest of my guys?”

  “Bravo and Charlie teams will go by ground in the vehicles to the airstrip for debriefing. We’ve taken over a small hangar there as a command post. We’ll send the sniper teams by helicopter once they come in from the field. You, Dallas, Michelle, and Tom need to stay with us for a little while longer. You should be out of here in about an hour.”

  Bravo and Charlie teams were immediately whisked away in the vehicles. Ryan and his team took off their tactical gear and huddled around the remaining SUV. They watched as the forensic team poked and took photographs of Arrington’s body.

  “How many bullets do you think we put in him?” asked Dallas.

  “Enough,” responded Ryan, curtly.

  “I mean, you told us he was fast and strong,” continued Dallas
. “You didn’t say anything about being bullet proof. That information may have helped down there in the basement.”

  “You think I knew?” asked Ryan, stepping closer to Dallas.

  “No, Boss. That’s not what I meant. I meant they could’ve told us. I mean told you so you could’ve told us. Fuck, I don’t know. I’ll shut up now.”

  “It’s okay, Dallas. I’m sorry. I know what you meant. I’m not happy with the way this turned out either. I’ve never lost an agent under my command. Tonight I lost two. Believe me when I say I have more questions than answers. I seem to be somewhat limited with what I can ask and what I have to accept without question. Do you understand?”

  “I do. I understand I wouldn’t want your job,” said Dallas, lightening the mood.

  “Did you take a good look around down there?” asked Tom, changing the subject.

  “I did,” responded Ryan. “It didn’t look anything like I expected.”

  “You told me and Michelle not to talk to anyone about it, but I figured it was okay to talk to each other.”

  “Speak freely,” said Ryan sensing Tom had something he wanted to say.

  “We both have extensive backgrounds in behavioral science with serial killers. Nothing down there fits Arrington’s profile evaluation we received from Quantico. Serial killers tend to escalate with their violence and frequency of attacks. Arrington seems to have deescalated, and he sticks to a concrete schedule.”

  “Deescalated?” asked Ryan. “He killed three people in 15 seconds. How is that deescalating?”