Dead Men (and Women) Walking Read online

  The detective looked at the legal aid next to him for a moment. Both of them realized they were in a room with a man with serious problems already, but the suspect's demeanor was very off-putting. He was rationalizing one hell of an atrocious act in front of them and he seemed to be fine with it. The investigation continued.

  The legal aid asked, "Mr. Hicks, what do you believe gives you the right to punish others, specifically the deceased Mr. Taylor in the way you did?" "I think being born gave me all the rights I needed to deal out a bit of justice. Free will is actually about exercising your right to do what you will, how you will, even if its expression through ...color." Those fleshy red lips where tantalizing, almost quivering for Eric's touch, his lick ...his bite. Yet again the detective interrupted Hicks' staring. "Not when you break the law, no, Mr. Hicks. Let's get something straight here. You're not just going to be charged with murder. We have witnesses that can account for your actions after you pushed Mr. Taylor down by the tracks, specifically, what you did afterward with his fingers."

  "Oh do tell, Mr. Wilson, what did I do with his fingers? Put them in my pockets? Save them for a rainy day? Ship them to your wife, perhaps?" "...You ate them, Mr. Hicks. You stood there with a man scared out of his mind, and you ate his fingers while you dangled him over the live rail." Hicks' face broke into a smile upon hearing his crime spoken aloud. A single bead of sweat fell from the detective's ear and the lovely lady in red was swallowing more than a normal person usually would. "Hmm ...I suppose I did, but not all of them, god no. The thumbs you see, they get caught in the throat."

  Mr. Hicks was amused that the detective was able to keep his cool so far. He wondered just how long it would take to break the cop's will for a moment, and decided to test him.

  "Oh, by the way Mr. Wilson, I have something to submit as evidence in the investigation." "What would that be?" asked the detective. ""It's a small reminder of our poor late Mr. Taylor."

  Hicks spat out a half-chewed fingernail onto the table. The pink tint of the violated protective object had almost faded away now, leaving a pale opaque shell behind. The fingernail had been bitten off halfway through and was chewed everywhere. It landed directly on the legal aid's paperwork, which caused her to charge out of the room, vomiting as she did. Mr. Wilson took a deep breath and collected his nerve. Using a pair of gloves, the detective collected the fingernail for evidence into a small plastic bag.

  "You haven't done yourself any favors, you sick bastard."

  "Why, Mr. Wilson, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were making this personal. Surely you don't care for all of your suspects this way, do you? Please be careful, I might claim favoritism." The face of the detective was full of disgust and grew tired of this little game.

  "What drives you lunatics to do these things? I mean, do you suddenly wake up one day and decide that you want to become a cannibalistic reject or what? I know its pretty pointless asking you, but just for the hell of it, tell me why. What's it like to say to yourself that you're going to eat someone on any given day? Tell me why you feel the need to feast on someone else's flesh."

  Hicks felt the pull of the abyss, of the frenzied stirring of his inner being. He caught himself about to say something he would immensely regret in such a place. Instead, the cannibal looked around nervously for a minute and calmed down again. If the corpse in front of the detective could blush, it would've at such a personal question. Silence filled the room for a minute before he finally decided to speak. "I'm flattered, detective, that you care. I can only do my best in answering your question with the utmost of enthusiasm.

  Wilson waited while Hicks stared at him. Neither man blinked, but eventually, Wilson's agitation got the better of him and he exploded. "Well?!" yelled Wilson.

  "Oh no detective, you see, it doesn't work like that. I can't exactly tell you here, can I? You'll know when its time. We have plenty of time."

  The detective's face was pure acid and his hands, where once they cupped each other, were now balled into fists. "You'll have it where you're going, and you'll have as long as you need to eat yourself to death, Hicks."

  "What an utterly interesting prospect you raise, detective. I'm beginning to like you already."

  Hicks make a kissing motion as Wilson left the room. Hicks felt sad that he couldn't see those curvy red fingernails and lips again. They were so intense that he barely contained himself.

  Part 2: The False Knot

  It was dark inside the cell. Hicks could barely see his hand in front of his face, but he knew it was sometime early in the morning. He'd been thrown in this dank little hole to await his court date. Even if he did get bail, it wouldn't help because there was no one at present to help him out anyway. The small cot was rather uncomfortable to Hicks, but he'd only have to suffer another night or two before he could be back in action.

  Devouring the flesh of the living drove Hicks, but it didn't make him a less passionate person, at least not in the sense of caring for others who deserved it. He thought about the night before when Mr. Wilson asked the question. "What's it like," Wilson asked. If only he knew. If only the detective knew what sensational pleasure could be had from chewing on someone's body, to consume a part of another's very essence, then he may well answer that question for himself. Hicks decided that he would indeed adopt the detective. The man had an inner curiosity that drove him above the average person on the street and to harness that quality could only be a good thing. To exalt the quality in someone else of Hicks' caliber was even better. The curious always made for such passionate people, at least that's what Hicks believed.

  The cell that Hicks had be thrown into on the other hand were so utterly devoid of passion that he was surprised more people didn't kill themselves just because they had to stay in such a place. The walls were rough where multiple coats of light tan colored paint were layered upon one another. The cell was no larger than a bathroom and Hicks found himself staring into the dark, wishing he could just have a nibble of something. Those lips, actually, yes, the legal aid's lips. Hicks would give almost anything to kiss those lips, to suck and savor them -even if the woman had no other redeeming features, those tender fleshy lips could satisfy Hicks. Alas, they were gone forever -or at least, until he got out, but she'd have to wait. He needed to get out of the police station first.

  Hicks was pacing back and forth quickly in wait of his signal. He wasn't long in waiting. Movement could be heard down the end of the hallway. Three cells down, the guard flipped the light switch on in the main hallway. The blazing light from underneath the door illuminated a chilling picture inside the dark room. Hicks' eyes were glowing in the dark. Large yellow eyes with large black pupils jerked slightly back and forth as Hicks rushed to tie his shirt around his neck. A black ichor oozed out of his mouth, his throat convulsing and pushing the liquid up and out as his dead body oozed his very essence from within. Finally, Hicks lay down and shut his eyes just as the sliding view holder on the door was pushed aside by the policeman. Shouting could be heard outside the cell. Hicks, forcing his life force deep within him, became limp. His mind drifted into nothingness as medical staff examined him. Hicks was pronounced dead early Wednesday morning, though from what was under much speculation.

  Part 3: The Urge

  The shelter of oblivion mixed with the bliss of non-existence felt more reassuring than any promise made by men of flesh and bone. The cold blanket of death had wrapped itself around Eric Hicks to keep him safe from the fires of the living. The grip of death even over such a creature as Hicks, however powerful, acquiescence to the Urge was undeniable. Even the abyss couldn't deny his body sustenance for long. Hicks thought about staying in the dark forever, to let his mind slip away and truly become dead to the world, but he knew better than that. He knew that his body would rise again and feast on the living with or without him, to be destroyed or captured for experimentation and try as he might, Hicks couldn't stand not caressing the supple skin of another for the rest of eternity.

  Sl
owly, Hicks' will began to grow again. His senses came even slower, only allowing his mind to clear after several hours of patience within the very shell he willingly left only the day before. Eventually, rigor mortis lost its hold over his corpse and finger after finger, his undying life-force began to assert dominance once again. Eric was vaguely aware of his immediate surroundings and he knew that he was in an open room upon a table. The bright lights above Eric completely blinded him and once he reached up to turn them off, he fell back onto the morgue table. Eric's strength had left him. His mind was hazy and sluggish, but he was alive again, or rather, undead. Crossing the threshold of decay played havoc on the mind, but it also left the body of the person vulnerable to attack. Luckily, most people didn't go around beheading the bodies of suspicious corpses anymore.

  The room was set up for an autopsy, and as he was on the table, he could only assume the worst. A discouraging array of instruments that was lined neatly on a metal tray to Eric's left tried in vein to gleam in the dimmed light of the room. These were the instruments that were made specifically for the utter violation of the human form, the very sight of such barbaric tools disgusted the cannibal. There were much better uses for corpses than butchery and burial, if only someone would have the balls to put Man's short-sighted moral ambiguity aside. In fact, a morgue was nothing different than a crude processing plant that didn't function properly. As Eric looked around, freezers filled with the bodies of the dead were tucked neatly away behind metal doors like hidden pieces of secretive gossip that no one wanted to speak of anymore. The dead were no longer celebrated, at least not in this day and age. In Hicks' mind, that was a shame.

  Eric's body, having lost its pulse and heartbeat long ago, would be no different than any other corpse, except for the rigor mortis that had been lifted already. As weak as Eric was though, the Urge was growing in intensity all the time. A dull ache at the best of times, the Urge could become a murderous rage if left unchecked or denied for too long and Hicks simply didn't have the strength to 'go under' a second time so quickly after doing so only a day before.

  Eric arched his back in order to straighten his body out on the table. He absolutely loathed not knowing who he was going to feed on, but this time, he didn't have much of a choice. He lashed out with his right foot, sending the tray of instruments clamoring on the floor. Once he could hear footsteps coming down the hallway, he feigned rigor mortis and mustered all the self-control he could to be patient for the prey to come to its devourer.

  A young man of no more than 20 years old came around to survey the commotion in the room. He wore a cacophony of different colors, ranging from the outer blue garments to having some manner of gothic attire beneath it. There were scars on the boy's face where he'd taken out his piercings in preparation for assistance with Mr. Hicks' autopsy. The morgue assistant cursed the corpse on the table for still having the shakes and proceeded to pick up the instruments from the floor.

  Eric lifted an eyelid to see just where the boy was and fortunately, the boy's back was turned. Hicks rolled off the table with a grace that totally betrayed his deathly appearance. As Eric approached the boy, he could hear music coming from the boy's mp3 player. The charade was dropped and the cannibal straightened up completely and walked calmly toward the hapless victim. As Hicks' eyes began to change to their natural coloration of bloodshot yellow, the young man turned and stared. Hicks grabbed the man by the throat with an unnatural strength. The man grabbed a hold of Hicks' arms in an attempt to free himself from death's grip, but it was no good. Hicks began to smile as he slowly dragged the boy closer. Before long, the boy's face began to turn an unhealthy shade of purple and Hicks was bombarded with punches and kicks, but none of them did any good. The prey had been caught, the predator triumphant.

  Hicks grabbed onto one of the boy's arms and jerked away hard. In an instant, the attached shoulder was dislocated. The boy let out a stifled murmur into the air and Hicks realized that he had to squeeze a little harder to completely seal off the airway. Hicks twisted the young man's arm all the way around and held it up, cupping the back of the arm to his mouth. There, in the sterile autopsy room of the morgue, the dead had risen to steal life from those who took it for granted.

  Part Four: The Willing Feast

  Eric Hicks thought the Thames River looked so beautiful at night. Its surface was nice and smooth due in no small part to a lack of wind and, as the lights shined from Canary Wharf, the water was brought to life by a plethora of colored lights. The reflection of multiple skyscrapers was a sight that Eric enjoyed no matter where he went because it showed that mankind did have a capacity for ingenuity and ambition --both emotions that Hicks held close to his own moral code. But he wasn't there to fulfill his moral code; he was there to break it. He wanted to flaunt his actions to the very police that had tried to put him away. In Eric's mind, it wasn't revenge in the sense that most people view the emotional response. No, he felt he needed to give them a little taste of the impossible. Eric Hicks was dead to the police. They would think the morgue assistant took his body and ran with it ...until they found the car a couple of days later. After that, only one man would really know what happened. That man was unfortunately on Hicks' to-do list.

  The morgue assistant's car was parked on the dock near the water. Hicks got into the driver's seat and rolled the windows down. He'd torn holes in the trunk of the car to help sink it and the body wasn't going anywhere anyway. He reversed the car around 30 feet and then raced toward the water. Right before the car's front tires touched the wooden pier, he jumped out and rolled with the momentum. As Eric sat and watched the car bubble down toward a murky end, he thought more about his own soon-to-be new assistant in life. His delight was all too apparent is his smile.

  As Eric spent the next day watching and waiting, he discovered that his body had been reported stolen by a worker at the city morgue. This had the effect of amplifying his already considerable presence within the media. While the turn of events was an inconvenience, it didn't bother Hicks too much. He'd been avoiding authorities for well over 100 years. The fact that he hadn't been caught after he'd escaped every time was a testament to his resolve and skill to blend into just about any western civilization and keep a low profile. He enjoyed sneaking around to steal the life of those who he deemed worthy. A battle of the mind was nearly as engaging as a battle of the soul to Eric, and he did so love to play games of cat and mouse. The mouse had now become the cat, and it was time to hunt the prey.

  Detective Wilson was easy enough to look up through phones books and Library internet computers; it seems Mr. Wilson has been quite popular with apprehending a wide variety of unsavory sorts over the last 7 years. The anticipation rose in Hicks who could hardly contain glee for the night to come. Once he found Wilson's address, he went to check on the place to see what needed to be done to surprise the cop and to convert him to a different way of thinking. Since the detective owned a pricey 2-bedroom apartment, Eric decided to keep an eye on Wilson's apartment by breaking into the adjacent vacant apartment and listening for people coming down the hall. Eric knew it was a risk, but by the time anyone knew that he'd broken into the place, they'd never find him anyway. Not when he was going to be bunking with the detective from now on, that is.

  When Graham Wilson finally came to his front door at 6:30 in the evening, Eric could see that the detective had a bad day. His shoulders were slightly slumped and his head was leaning down slightly. Slow uncertain movements confirmed that indeed, the detective was going to be off guard tonight. Eric could only lick his lips and watch intently. There was nothing between himself and Wilson except a wooden door. Eric saw the detective's hands fumble around as they dug in his coat to find the keys to open the door. They were strong hands, and would serve Wilson well in the days to come. Wilson was also much taller than Hicks and would need to feed more often, but that wasn't a problem. London had more neglected people than almost any other city in the world, and with such resources as those readily available t
o a detective, finding food would be much easier. Before Wilson could open the door, his mobile phone buzzed. As Eric listened, he heard how Wilson's sister was coming over in around two hours for some rest and relaxation, as the two hadn't seen each other in some time. A twisted grin lit up Eric's face. So, company was to be expected, was it? What lovely news he thought, and family no less. Eric looked forward to meeting Wilson's sister so he could get a more broad knowledge of Wilson's familial contacts. Things were looking better all the time. Eric watched Graham's body movements to see when the time was right to sneak up to the door. As Wilson's conversation with his sister geared up about recent events, Hicks readied his bubble gum and half a credit card for the right moment. As Graham opened his front door and walked through, Eric quickly stepped up and pushed the top of the credit card to the inner doorframe and pulled his body back around the corner in the hallway. The top of the cut up credit card had bubblegum stuck to the back of it, and, when the door swung to close, the credit card would stop the metal tongue of the door from connected with the doorframe. Eric realized early on in his stay in England that most doors, even when not locked with key, still wouldn't open, having built-in locking mechanisms in the door handles where you could only open the doors from the inside. It was an annoying feature of these doors, but one that could still be dealt with. As Eric listened, Wilson continued his conversation on the phone and was walking further and further away from the door, so Hicks could only assume his plan worked.