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Infernis – Chapter Twenty-Three

February 4, 2013

Chapter Twenty-Three

De do do do, de da da da.

The individual now known as Corey Murphy sat quietly while the man behind the desk reviewed something in his file. Corey–he was still getting used to the name–decided he probably didn’t like the man.

The man reminded him of a head shrink he had seen briefly as a younger man. He had been careless in his youth, and that had resulted in an arrest. The arrest had only been for driving while intoxicated.


In those days it was not the serious charge that it is today. If you merely got pulled over for some other reason or had your ID checked at a road block, it was then in such places as he then lived, up to the officer in question as to whether or not the driver had had “too much.”

His attorney had weaved a sob story about his childhood and recent family problems–the truth had been far worse, unthinkably worse–and the judge had shown leniency. Some counseling, attending AA meetings, and the public service of removing some garbage along the side of the highway. And no jail time.

He had especially enjoyed the garbage detail. It had given him the time and opportunity to learn the location of various local geographic and geological features. Those had come in handy later.

But it was, of course, the counseling–not therapy, the psychologist had assured him–that he had enjoyed the least. The man had initially tried to see inside his head, he had imagined, and it was at an early age that he had learned to not share that with anyone. Not even his mother or sister. Especially not a stranger.

He had, at the second session, discovered the man’s interests. Before the third session, he spent some time at the library of the small university three towns over, and learned as much about it as he could.

At the third session, he had successfully diverted the conversation in that direction. By the fifth one, the man actually seemed to be enjoying the off-topic discussions so much he hardly even bothered with discussing the evils of drinking and driving.

Here he was, nearly three decades later, facing a man with a similar look. However, this seemed to be an exit interview of some sort, and “Corey” did not expect to see him again. Ever.

“So what did you think, overall, of the training?”

Corey took a moment to recall. Most of it had been done via computer, with video instruction and documents detailing various topics they had covered. Only in the hands-on training sessions had he had much interaction with the instructors at all, and even then both he, the instructors, and the other trainees all wore masks.

“I would have preferred some one-on-one with the instructors. Sometimes ideas occur to you during the video classes that you don’t get the chance to ask or discuss before moving on to something else.”

“So, would you have preferred a slower pace?”

“No. Not really. I enjoyed the fact that it was quick…the challenge of keeping up. But I had so many ideas…I think I just lost some–”

“Ah. You’ll remember them later. Whenever you need to. Our training is like that.”


The man closed the folder. Corey knew the reason for the masks. It was obvious.

But the video classes. Pre-recorded. That was a different thing altogether. That was fear. That was–

“So, any other questions? They explained to you what you are to do? What not to do?”

The man had interrupted his thoughts. That had happened a lot with these people. It underlined what he’d been thinking.

“I think so, yes. No one important unless…the impulse seems strong enough…”

There was something he wanted more information on. One of those things that he’d wanted to know more about. He might as well ask.

“We spent a lot of time with forensics. And yet, they said that FBI wasn’t to be a problem…”

“Yes. Well, they aren’t directly. They have a new focus and…well, we have people in there as well.

“No, it’s that some local municipalities might send things to their labs. Local and state police have become more sophisticated. Some of the larger places have better equipment than they used to. It makes sense to be careful, understanding how one can get caught and to influence what gets investigated and how. Avoids the possibility of failure of one of those two systems. Extra safeguard.”

“I see.”

Corey could not believe what he was hearing. But then, he couldn’t believe it when they had sent some corporate mercenaries whom he had mistaken initially for a SWAT team to his home, captured him, brought him in, and told him that they wanted his help, wanted him to continue. Not stop.

“Can you explain…why? That seems to be the one thing that hasn’t ever been discussed. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

Corey had tagged on that last sentence without making it seem so. He had realized as he was speaking that these people didn’t like those kinds of questions. It might result in undesirable side-effects if they took it as being too nosey.

The man cleared his throat. Corey had been correct, there was an element of suspicion at having brought it up.

“Well, I am not privy to the ‘grand design’, as it were. But what I have read–oh, it’s available online, a paper by some DD candidate in Arizona.

“The man showed that science and the Bible have shown that God, as He intended nature to be, made you and people like you as His agents. He created you as a way of continuing to carry His message. And you do that by being His scalpel. You remove that which He finds abhorrent. We are merely helping you and in doing so, fulfilling His will, as encoded by Darwin and His Word. Something like that. Evolution and God’s Will manifest together. Intelligent Design. That sort of thing.”

Corey thought for a moment. The man was saying he could indulge as much as he wanted so long as he avoided detection by local and state law enforcement. The Federal government was not only going to not bother him but was actively encouraging it. In order to…


He got it now. Population reduction. Scarcity repaired by reducing demand. Target those deemed undesirable by whoever it was decided those things. Throw in cherry-picked portions of ancient text as justification to pacify anyone with a conscience.

Corey was an atheist, always had been. But the idea that he was superior, was the next step in evolution…well, that had certainly occurred to him.

Maybe there was a God.

“I guess that’s all,” he said.

Now it made some sense. Now he wasn’t worried so much about a double-cross.

“There is one more thing, Mr. Murphy.”

The man paused for dramatic effect, it seemed to Corey.

“You must not re-engage with your previous M.O., your modus operandi. So, no more of…that.”

Murphy, or “the Muncher” as he had become known on some conspiracy website, had eaten–literally eaten–certain parts of the female anatomy raw, it had been surmised, given the corpses and the parts missing.

Nothing of the sort. It had been stir fry.

He thanked the man and left. It wasn’t until he was a few miles away that he allowed himself a smile. There had been three or four things that these people had not, so far as he could tell, considered.

Certainly, they had seen to it that he and, he assumed, others in his position were essentially blackmailed into working with them. If they disobeyed, they could and would wind up on the express judicial train to the penitentiary. End of the fun.

But that in itself had missed a few possibilities that he could think of.

Still, he had not only learned a lot more about how to kill and inflict pain, but he had also learned how to cover his tracks in so many ways that he had not yet even thought out from start to finish what he might actually do. The whole affair had been an incubator for the eggs in his imagination and they had yet to hatch.

He had for a moment back during the interview thought about asking about Dahmer but thought better of it. Corey had read all about him. Former military, stationed in Germany, where he had, it was thought, first killed.

Corey’s focus had been prostitutes. Dahmer’s had been gay men.

A cartoon flashed through his head as he sped down the road.

“Duck season!”

“Rabbit season!”

This was a license to have as much fun as he possibly could. There were whores requiring his attentions. Uncle Sam demanded it! It would be the patriotic thing to do.

He felt tingly and new. Like a virgin.


From → Infernis, Novels

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