They say I’m well now; I guess they think I’m well, because I’m finally going along with the program.  The judge said that I was criminally insane, that I had gone mad, just because I killed my wife and a half dozen people at the office.  I did burn down that homeless shelter in New York City and killed several more across the country, but they were only people in the abstract sense.  My name is Brad Cummings, and I kill monsters. 

I used to be a happily married man, but one day my wife and I went for a walk in the park near where we lived.  Something fell from a tree, landed on the back of my wife’s neck and she let out a yelp rubbing the sore spot.  I checked out the back of her neck and saw a black slug that reminded me of a glob of Jell-O burrow into her skin causing her flesh to sizzle for a few seconds.  Pleading with her to go to a doctor, I couldn’t understand why she refused.  Even then, the reptilian larva was taking control and by the end of the week, my beautiful ray of sunshine was gone.  Only I could see the evil thing lurking beneath the surface.

As a resident of a mental hospital, you have a lot of time on your hands.  When I first came here, I spent most of my time either killing, or observing the monsters trying to grasp their agenda.  They go about their daily lives like normal people, but then I thought, maybe they are waiting for the mother ship?  Eventual, I gave up and decided to leave them alone.  Here in the loony bin you meet interesting people.  I’ve discovered another variety of monster that makes the reptilian interlopers seem as benign as choirboys.  This kind of monster is entirely human and that’s what scares me.  Here we have serial killers, inbred cannibals, rapist, child molesters you name it.  The ones I hate the most, are the ones who hurt children.  One day they took us to an amusement park and I was standing by a carousel when a little girl came running up to me.

“Mr. Are you sick?” she asked me.

“They think I am,” I said shooting her a smile.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I see monsters.”  The little girl gave me a look of utter shock, her eyes widened and her bottom jaw dropped.

“I see them too,” she whispered.  “They try hard to look like everyone else, but I can see them hiding underneath.  The lizard kind are the worst.” 

Now it was I, who stood in shock with my mouth hanging open.  I had never met another person who saw the monsters.

“Don’t let anyone else know that you see them,” I whispered.

“Why?  Do you think they’ll put me in the funny farm like you?”

I laughed.

“No. you’re too pretty for that.”  The girl’s mother called.  “You’d better run.  You don’t want your mother to get worried,” I said.  The girl ran off and I heard her mother scolding her about talking to strangers.  Back at the hospital, I sat down in the common room to read a newspaper.  I read an article about a serial killer that was killing little girls back east and the authorities couldn’t catch him.  They said that his usual MO was to kidnap little girls on their way home from school, take them to some secluded place and then contact the parents.  He tells the mother that if she wants to see her little girl alive to come alone and he asks for money.  If the mother comes, he rapes and kills both of them, cannibalizes them while they are still alive, and then he burns what’s left.  The article said that in a few cases, he broke from his pattern and killed people at random.  But in every case, he would cannibalize and burn the bodies.  The newspapers called him Billy the Burner. 

I thought about the little girl in the amusement park and what a horrible thing it would be if someone did that to her.  Billy had to die and that’s why I decided to go along with the program.  Now, I am a model patient and my target date for freedom is two years from now.  They say that I need to stay confined and remain in therapy for at least that long before the authorities would consider releasing me.  Then, it would be to a halfway house, but two years is too long to wait, and besides, that’s out the window, now that I have blood on my knife.

***

The barn owl looked up from the branch of the Pine tree where he sat when the woman screamed.  A flickering light, wafted from the interior of the abandoned farmhouse and another blood-curdling scream split the night.  The owl spread his wings and took flight.  Inside the farmhouse, Billy knelt over the woman laying spread eagle on the floor.  The woman’s six-year-old daughter’s butchered body sat on the dirty hard wood floor beside her.  Pieces of flesh set in the coals inside the fireplace sizzling.  Reaching with his grubby hand into the fireplace, Billy picked up a piece of half cooked meat.

“Ouch.  That’s hot,” Billy said.  “A man’s got to keep up his strength though, so down the hatch it goes.”  He dropped the small pieces of human flesh into his mouth and wolfed it down.  He picked up another piece of meat and tossed it into his mouth.

“Please.  Just kill me.  You’ve already killed my baby girl.  I have nothing to live for anyway.  Just put me out of my misery,” the woman pleaded.

Billy wiped his greasy hands on his pants and picked up his bloody knife.

“You know, you do have sexy legs,” he said and then smacked his lips.  He cut off several large pieces of flesh from the woman’s thighs.  Blood pooled up underneath the woman’s body and she let out another scream.  A foul odor permeated from the farmhouse and outside a coyote howled smelling the fresh cooked meat.  Billy tossed the fresh cut strips of human flesh onto the fire to cook.  After gorging himself, Billy said, “Ha, ha…I always like to save the sweat meat for last,” and then stuck the knife into the woman’s belly.  She let out another blood curdling-scream, but after a while, the screaming stopped.  Later, his hunger placated, Billy the Burner stuffed several pieces of half-cooked flesh into his soiled backpack, and set the pack outside on the front porch of the farmhouse.  Picking up a can of gasoline, Billy poured gas over the body of the woman and the child.  He poured a stream of gasoline across the hardwood floor of the living room to the front door.

Outside on the front porch, Billy slung his pack onto his back, took a book of matches from his pocket and struck a match.  Tossing a match through the front door, Billy stepped back watching the flames.  Once the flames fully consumed the farmhouse, Billy strolled down the dirt driveway to the highway and headed west.

***

Right now, I am knelling over the body of John Holliday and His blood is forming a pool at my feet.  Here in the Coo Coos Nest, we call him Little Johnny Boy.  Tomorrow was Little Johnny Boy’s release date, but I couldn’t let that happen.  Little Johnny Boy used to suck up to the doctors expressing remorse about his crimes.  They claimed he was cured and no longer a danger to society.  This morning I heard Little Johnny Boy bragging about all the young trim he was going to get once he was on the outside.  He liked young girls between the age of thirteen and sixteen.  He would abduct them, take them to some secluded place and then rape them.  Finished with that, he would kill them with his knife, taking his time.  That’s why I killed little Johnny Boy with my blade.  Hearing a noise, I looked up.

“Damn Cummings!  You killed Little Johnny Boy!  That’s about as funny as a fart in church!” Patrick Murphy said, stepping from the darkness.  Murphy is your typical Irish thug.  He likes to rob liquor stores, steal cars, break in to people’s houses and shoot people.  His last victim had nineteen bullet holes in his body.  The police caught Murphy, but the courts sent him here.

“Help me drag him into the laundry room.  Get some towels and help me clean up this mess,” I said.  Murphy did as instructed.  “Now get his feet.”  Murphy grabbed the body’s feet and we carried it to the washroom.

“He’s a heavy bugger,” Murphy said while we carried the body down the corridor.

“I hear you,” I replied.  Sweat dripped down my forehead and formed underneath my armpits.  We deposited Little Johnny Boy’s body into n industrial sized laundry hamper in the washroom.  Reaching up to a top shelf, I brought down a stack of white towels, tossed them into the hamper covering the body and then brought down another stack.  Tossing half of them to Murphy, I said, “Let’s clean up the mess.”

“Why don’t I just mop the floor?”  Embarrassment shot through me and my cheeks turned red.

“Bring it.  We’ll still need the towels,” I replied.  We spent the next fifteen minutes moping up the floor and cleaning up the mess.

“What now?” Murphy asked.

“Now you go back to your room,” I said breathing in the smell of ammonia from the mop bucket.

“What about you?”

“I’m getting out of here.”

“Take me with you.”

“No way man.”

“Take me with you or I scream bloody murder.  They’ll put you in the padded room again.”  I grabbed my knife and Murphy took a step back.  “You need me.  I know stuff.  I can help.”

I paused thinking.  Murphy’s rap sheet covered everything from petty theft to homicide.

“All right.  You can come, but if you ever threaten to snitch on me again, I’ll cut your balls off and feed them to you,” I said and headed back to the laundry room.  Murphy came in behind me and closed the door.

“What’s your plan, Boss?”

“Weaver will be making his rounds in ten minutes.  When he passes by, I’ll jump him.  I’ll take his keys and his gun.”

“What about me, Boss Man?”

“You stay here.  I’ll bring Weaver in and we’ll tie him up.”

“Why don’t you just cut his big black throat?”

“I don’t want to kill Weaver.  He’s not like the rest.”

“If you say so Hoss, but if you don’t they’ll nail you for killing Little Johnny Boy.”

“They’ll do that anyway.  What are they gonna do?  Throw me in the loony bin?”  Murphy let go with a belly laugh.  “Shut up.  Someone might hear us,” I whispered.

“Why did you kill Little Johnny Boy?” Murphy asked.

“Because he needed it.  Now shut up.”  We hunkered down in the laundry room for another fifteen minutes.

“I wonder what’s takin’ the black bastard so long?  Maybe, he had to lay a big black turd,” Murphy said and then laughed.  This struck my funny bone and I let out a snicker.  Soon we were both laughing and snorting.

“Shut up.  Shut up.  I think I hear him coming,” I said stifling my laughter.

Weaver fiddled with his keys, opened the door to the laundry room and we dived behind the laundry hamper.

“Who’s in here?  I could of swore I heard someone laughing,” Weaver said flipping on the light.  He looked around for a few more seconds and then closed the door.  I heard his footsteps moving down the hallway.  Silently, I stepped into the hallway, crept up behind Weaver and pulled my knife.  Grabbing him by the back of his shoulder with my left hand, I brought the knife over his right shoulder and touched his throat with the blade.

“I always liked you Dan.  Don’t make me do something that we’ll both regret,” I whispered.

“Good Lord, Brad.  I think I just shit myself.  Please don’t kill me.”  I let out a low chuckle.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Dan.  Unbuckle your belt and drop it.  I’ll need your gun and your keys.  Empty your pockets.”

“You don’t want to do this, Brad.”

“I slid the blade across Weaver’s throat just barely nicking the skin.  A tiny drop of blood trickled down the front of his neck.

“Don’t think about going for that pistol.  You’d make an ugly corpse.”  Weaver unbuckled his belt, let it drop to the floor and I kicked it away.  “Now empty your pockets.”  He did as instructed and I forced him up against the wall.  “Get on your knees,” I said.  Tucking the knife in my waistband, I grabbed Weaver’s 357 Magnum.

“Good Lord, you are gonna kill me.  I got a wife and a family,” he said.

“Get up and head to the laundry room.  If you want to see that wife and family of yours again, do what I tell you,” I said sticking the gun in his back.  I forced Weaver into the laundry room and made him sit down next to the laundry hamper.  “Get his keys.  Get some rope and some Duck tape from the storage room,” I said to Murphy.  A big grin crossed Murphy’s face and I saw blood lust in his eyes.

“Why don’t you just shoot the big black bastard, or better yet, let me do it.”

“Nobody’s going to shoot him.  If you don’t do what I tell you, I just might shoot you.”

“You’re the Boss Man, as long as you have that gun,” Murphy said and then went after the rope and the Duck tape.

“If you be nice, Dan, you just might live through this, but if you start to feel Froggy, just look in that laundry hamper.  Go ahead.  Take a look,” I said flipping on the light.  Weaver rose up and peeked inside the laundry hamper.  “Move the towels aside so you can get a good look.”

“Lord God almighty.  You killed John Holliday.  He was supposed to get out of here tomorrow,” Weaver said, his face turning ashen.

“I couldn’t let that happen.  Holliday was a piece of shit, so I killed him.  I’ll kill you too if I have to.”

“I won’t cause you no trouble, Brad.  Don’t let Murphy get hold of that gun.  He’ll kill me for sure.”

“I’ll handle Murphy.  I’m the one you’ve got to worry about.”

“You know you’re not gonna make it out of here.”

“I’ll make it.  Once I make it to the front gate, I’ll ram the gate with your car.”

Weaver let out a sigh.

“Damn.  I just waxed that car.”

“I’m going to have to tie you up and then hit you.  I can’t have you raising cane.”

“Just don’t hit me too hard.” 

Murphy came back with the rope and the duck tape.

“Tie him up, put some rags in his mouth and duck tape his mouth closed,” I said.  While Murphy went to work, I picked up Weaver’s belt and put it on.

“All trussed up like a Christmas turkey, all though he looks a little bit on the burnt side,” Murphy said and then laughed.

“Wait for me outside,” I said.

“Anything you say, Boss.  You’ve got the gun.”  When Murphy stepped outside, I opened Weaver’s wallet and took out a wad of cash.

“You have over four-hundred dollars here.  It must be payday.  I’ll take two-hundred and leave you the rest.  You do have that family to feed,” I said and then brought the gun crashing down on his head.  He slumped against the wall in a state of unconsciousness and I examined the top of his skull.  “Lucky for you, this gun has rubber grips.  You’ll have a headache tomorrow.”  Picking up Weaver’s things, I stepped out the door.  Murphy and I headed down the hallway breathing in the smell of floor wax, which masked the pungent odor coming from some of the patient’s room.  Some of our patients had accidents at night.  When the bats are in the belfries, you don’t think about going to the bathroom to make a bowel movement.

Using Weaver’s keys, I unlocked the doors and we passed through the wards.  A door on our right opened and a mousy girl with long red hair stepped into the hallway.  I heaved a sigh of despair.  Ashley Courtland stood in her hospital gown watching us, her nipples pressing against the fabric of her thin cotton gown.  I glanced at her chest and then looked away.  I ought to cold cock her and save myself some trouble.  Ashley liked to cut herself, she was also anorexic and she liked to start fires.  Other than that, she was just a whinny bitch.

“What are you guys doing?” Ashley whispered.

“Mind your own business.  Go back to sleep,” I said trying to keep my voice down.

“We’re bustin’ out of here, Little Darlin’,” Murphy said.  I felt anger surge through me.

“Take me with you,” Ashley whispered.  She rushed into the hallway and grabbed Murphy’s arm.

“Go back to your room,” I said trying not to let my voice grow above a whisper.

“Why not Hoss?  Ashley’s a kick.  I’ll share.  You can always use some pun tang.”

 “If you don’t take me, I’ll scream,” Ashley whispered.

“I’ll gut you, if you do,” I replied.  Ashley rubbed up against me and put her hand on my back.

“Please.  I’ll do anything you want.” 

“Shit.  All right, but keep your mouth shut and do what I tell you,” I said.

We moved down the hallway and then let ourselves outside using Weaver’s keys.  I crossed the lawn to the employee’s parking lot with Murphy swaggering along behind me.  I found Weaver’s car, an older Chevy sedan and we piled in.  Sitting behind the wheel, I fired up the engine, Ashley rode bitch and Murphy rode shotgun.

“Thank you for taking me,” Ashley said putting her hand on my leg.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” I said pushing her hand away.  Pulling out of the parking lot, I headed down the road to freedom.  Weaver’s keys let us out of the interior gate and then I drove down the tree-lined road leading to the perimeter fence.

“What are you going to do about the guard at main gate?” Murphy asked.

Watch and see,” I replied.

“You’ve got that hog leg.  Just shoot the son of a bitch.”

“Unlike you, I only shoot people when necessary,” I said.  We came round a curve in the road and approached the main gate.  The guard stepped out of the guard shack and turned to face us.  When I stopped with the front end of Weaver’s car only inches from the gate, the guard shined his flashlight onto the vehicle.  He raised a handheld radio to his lips and spoke into it.  Franticly, the guard shoved his radio back into its pouch and pulled a handgun.

“Do something Boss!” Murphy yelled.  “This old boy smells a rat!”

Jamming the shifter into reverse, I mashed my foot down on the accelerator.  The tires squealed and the car shot backward.  I slammed on the brakes, breathing in the smell of burnt rubber, and Ashley let out a scream.  Three hundred feet of space separated us from freedom.  Jamming the shifter into drive, I burned some more rubber squealing the tires and the car shot forward.  The guard ran hiding behind the guard sack and the car slammed into the gate making a loud crunching sound.  The gate leaned backward barely holding onto its track, but Ashley wouldn’t stop screaming.

“Shut up you dumb bitch,” I said and put the shifter into reverse.  This time when we slammed into the gate, the car knocked it halfway to the ground.  When I rammed the gate the third time, the gate fell to the ground and we rolled over it.  Murphy let out a wild whoop and we rolled down the road to freedom.  The guard took a few potshots at us with his handgun and a bullet slammed into the back window causing Ashley to scream again.

“If you can’t make that bitch shut up, I’m gonna put a bullet in her,” I said.

“Ashley, Darlin’.  Hush now,” Murphy said, laying a hand on her leg.  Ashley hushed and I turned right onto a two-lane highway heading west at a high rate of speed.

***

On the road for three days, Billy the Burner was famished.  He’d gone through all of the human flesh in his backpack and considered stopping at a store to buy something to tide him over until he found what he considered real food.  He had passed several restaurants and Quick Marts along the highway, but Billy loathed eating what most people considered palatable.  He would starve himself for days after eating human flesh and only eat something else if he absolutely had to.  The early morning chill caused Billy’s face to redden, his eyes tiered up, his hands shook and he felt weak.  He heard a rumbling sound and looked up the road.  A beat up, white Ford van backfired, approaching from the east and Billy stuck out his thumb.

The van pulled over and stopped.

“You headed west?” a portly woman with dirty blonde hair said looking out the passenger window.

“Yeah,” Billy said peering pass the woman at her grossly fat husband.  He had a large belly, fleshy jowls and rolls of fat that hung from his arms.

Clinching a big cigar between his teeth, the fat man waved Billy toward the vehicle.

“Hurry up son.  We ain’t got all day,” the fat man said.

“Ha,” Billy chuckled underneath his breath.  “Here’s lunch.”

Five miles down the road, they stopped at a country cross road.  Taking his knife from his backpack, Billy reached up and stuck it into the side of the fat man’s throat.  Blood squinted out, the man grabbed his throat trying to scream and his portly wife shrieked.  Billy took a tire iron from underneath the passenger seat and brought it crashing down on the woman’s head knocking her unconscious.  Jumping into the driver’s compartment, he dragged the body of the fat man into the back and then climbed behind the wheel.

Down the road a few more miles, Billy turned off into a vacant field and parked in a secluded spot behind a clump of trees.  Using ropes from his backpack, Billy tied off both the fat man and his wife hanging them from the near by Sycamore trees.  The woman woke up a few minutes later, hanging by her feet next to her dead husband, and let out a scream.

“You know, I would consider having some fun with you, but I’m not really in to fat girls,” Billy said and then went to work with his knives.  Three days later with his stomach full, Billy the Burner climbed behind the wheel of the Ford van, pulled out onto the highway and headed west. 

The first thing officer Barrow noticed after receiving the radio call about the bodies was the smell.  The smell of cooked human flesh emanated from the smoldering bodies hanging from the trees.

“My God.  It’s hard to tell that they’re even human.  At first I thought some poacher took a couple of bears out of season,” Barrow’s partner said and then promptly threw up on his shoes.  “Have you ever seen anything like it?” Barrow’s partner asked after he composed himself.

Barrow shook his head looking up at the two-burnt bodies.  Long strips of half-cooked meat hung in the trees next to the bodies, animal tracks lay on the ground, a small cooking fire set near the base of the trees and the remains of a human hand lay in the ashes.

“No.  I’ve been with the State Police for thirty-two years and I've never seen anything like this.  Old Billy had himself a feast.  We got to catch this motherless son of a bitch,” Barrow said and then headed back to the patrol car for the body bags.

***

Turning the radio onto a country and western station, I rolled down the window.

“We need to ditch this car,” I said resting my arm on the back of the seat.

“What ever you say, Hoss, but could we change the music off this country shit?”

“How about some heavy metal?” Ashley said running her hand down my leg.  Moving my hand to her inner thigh, I ran it up underneath her gown until my pinky finger came to rest against her moist center.  Squeezing her thigh, I bore down hard and she let out a yelp.

“The station stays where it is.  I told you to keep your hands to yourself.”  Removing my hand, I turned up the radio and in the mirror; I saw tears in Ashley’s eyes.

“Why do you have to be so mean?” she asked.

“Because that’s the way I roll.”

“Don’t worry, Hoss.  She’ll be fine, won’t you Darlin’?  You play what you want,” Murphy said.  “As long as you’ve got the gun, you’re the boss.”

Ten miles down the road, I saw a mailbox setting next to a dirt road leading back into the trees.  The lights from an old farmhouse filtered through the woods.  Stomping on the brakes, I turned onto the dirt road and Ashley let out another scream.

“This farmer probably has a truck setting in his barn,” I said.  “We’ll leave Weaver’s ride here.  The cops probably have the license plate number and a description by now.”

“I told you, you should have shot the black bastard,” Murphy said.

Glancing out the window, I watched the forest and breathed in the Pine scent.

“Maybe I should shoot you?”

“No need to get hostile,” Murphy said raising his hands in surrender.  The dirt road opened up into a clearing with a dilapidated old farmhouse setting in its center.  To the east of the house set a rickety old barn.  Parking the car next to the barn, I turned off the motor and Murphy started to open the door.

“Wait a minute.  They might have a dog.  If it starts barking, we’re out of here,” I said.  We sat in the car waiting while crickets sang love songs to the night, but do dogs barked.

“The furry critters must be inside with the old folks,” Murphy said.

“Stay here while I check the barn,” I whispered.  Climbing out of the car, I stood letting my eyes grow accustomed to the darkness.   After a minute, I crept up to the barn.  The barn door hung on a track with rollers at its top so I leaned against the door and gave it a shove.  The rollers squeaked, but the barn door slid open.  A musty smell emanated from the dark interior, the smell bringing back memories from my childhood.  Something brushed up against my leg and I almost jumped out of my skin.  A black and white cat looked up at me and meowed.  Inside the barn set a faded Cobalt Blue 1966 Dodge pickup truck.  I went to the front of the truck and raised the hood.  Turning to a nearby shelf in the barn, I rummaged around looking for a piece of wire to hotwire the truck.  Stopping in mid search, I heaved a sigh.

“Always check the easy stuff first,” I said then grabbed the driver’s side door handle, and gave it a pull.  The door squeaked open and I sat down behind the wheel.  The keys dangled from the ignition switch.  Climbing out of the cab, I eased the hood closed and then climbed back behind the wheel and turned the key.  The engine cranked slowly at first, but then fired up and I backed out of the barn.  Expecting to see Murphy and Ashley come running up to the truck, a fit of rage shot through me when I didn’t.

“Shit!”  Muffled gunshots came from the house.  I saw bright flashes of light coming from a back bedroom.  “Shit!  I left Weaver’s gun sitting on the front seat of the car!” I screamed slamming my fist down on the steering wheel.  Murphy and Ashley came running from the house and jumped into the truck on the passenger side.  They couldn’t stop giggling and laughing.  Ashley put her hand on my leg.  “What the hell did you do?”

“I shot the shit out of them old coots,” Murphy said and then laughed.

“You should have seen that old woman’s face when we stepped into the room,” Ashley said and then let out a nervous giggle.

“Shut up bitch!” I yelled and backhanded her across the face.  “Why did you kill them?  We could have got away clean!”

“Take it easy Hoss.  I’ve got the gun now.  You ain’t the boss man no more.”

“If you point that gun at me again, I’ll gut you like a fish.  Besides, the gun’s empty.  You’re out of bullets.”

“Bang!” Murphy said pointing the gun at me.  “You’re right Hoss.  I got no bullets.”  Reaching over, my elbow brushed against Ashley’s breast, when I grabbed the gun.

“Hey!  Watch it!” Ashley said.  I backhanded her with the back of my fist that held the gun.

“Shut up bitch!”  Pulling up next to Weaver’s car, I jumped out and grabbed Weaver’s gun belt.  Back inside the truck, I reloaded the weapon and placed the barrel against Murphy’s forehead.

“Never carry an unloaded weapon, you dumb shit.  Always reload after you’re through shooting.”  Murphy’s eyes widened, I tucked the handgun in the waistband of my trousers, put the truck in gear and mashed my foot down on the accelerator.  The truck lurched forward bouncing over the sandy dirt road.  Once we cleared the woods and reached the highway, I headed west.  We’ll be lucky if every cop in the state isn’t on our tail by daylight, I thought.  Keeping my foot to the floor, I hoped to make the next town before the police threw up a roadblock.