Prey Drive (26 page)

See you soon ;)

Dirk

P.S. I found the hotel where Selene is staying in town. I’m going to meet up with her tonight.

Tonight? That would have been a week ago, but Selene hadn’t mentioned seeing him. Joe remembered the smell of death wafting from Selene’s skin. She smelled like she’d been drenched in blood.

No. She wouldn’t.

But Joe knew it was true. He played the scenario over in his head. He could imagine Dirk meeting Selene, her seducing him, bringing him up to her room, drugging him, and then … drunken shrimp. Dirk had been her kill, her drunken shrimp. Joe stared at the letter for a long time, knowing it would be the last one he’d ever see from his cousin. His last link to his family was gone. He was losing everything.

Joe was dangerously insane. He knew that and had known it for many years. He had fought his own madness, had often given into it, but he had always been aware of it. What he was only now becoming aware of was the destructive insanity he had surrounded himself with. Selene, Nathan, even Dirk himself. He attracted perverts, sadists, and psychotics. He lived in the company of lunatics. They wrote letters to him every day. He had let them into his life and now one of them had murdered his cousin. His life had gotten far out of control. It was time to take that control back, to take his life back. He still needed them to get him out of prison, but that was where it had to end. He could not cure himself while surrounded by people who enabled and encouraged his illness. He had learned that years ago in Sex Addicts Anonymous. Staying with Selene was a recipe for relapse. More than that, he needed to avenge his cousin’s murder. Dirk had not deserved this. He had been a good and loyal friend to Joe and it had cost him his life. Someone had to pay for that.

Joe began composing a note for Professor Locke. The man had believed in him and Joe felt he owed him an explanation before he disappeared. He had just begun putting pen to paper when Joe spotted a familiar face staring at him from across the room. He sighed and rolled his eyes as he recognized Officer Belton’s characteristic scowl. Belton locked eyes with Joe in what was clearly a challenge, more of his chest-beating, macho bullshit. Belton still could not stand the idea that there was one inmate in the penitentiary he couldn’t humble. The big, angry corrections officer lifted his chin and smirked. It looked more like a sneer. If Belton was stationed anywhere near the infirmary this evening, it was going to be a problem. Joe had no intention of letting the man get in the way of his freedom.

The day crept by like all days in the penitentiary, one sluggish second loping lazily after another in a painful, crushing monotony. Joe went for several walks between naps. He had one last trip to the physical therapist.

“I think you’re ready to get out of here. Your stitches have healed and you seem to have your strength back. We need that bed for the sick patients,” said Mrs. Apley, a portly, black corrections nurse who also served as the hospital’s only physical therapist.

“The only reason they let you stay here this long is to make certain you didn’t just wind up right back in here. The warden wanted to make sure you healed enough to be able to protect yourself. It was either the infirmary or solitary or back to supermax.”

“Then I’m glad he chose the infirmary,” Joe said trying a smile that failed miserably. Joe still had a hard time with normal human interactions. His only comfortable, natural relationship with humanity was one of predator and prey. Relating to humans as peers had always been a problem.

“I hear he had help making the decision. Rumor is there’s someone giving him some monetary inspiration where you’re concerned.”

She studied Joe’s face, obviously waiting for a comment or facial expression to confirm or refute the rumor. Neither was forthcoming. Joe merely stared back at her, returning her inquisitive stare with one full of threat. She turned away.

“Anyway, I’m putting in your release papers. Tomorrow you go back to your cell.”

“Home sweet home,” Joe replied with a smile. He’d begun filing his teeth again. They were as sharp as ever, like a mouth full of tiny, white arrowheads. Nurse Apley turned away with a shiver.

“Thanks for everything, Nurse Apley. I guess I’d better go get ready to leave.”

“Goodbye, Joseph. I hope I don’t see you back here any time soon.”

“You won’t. I promise you that.”

Joe smiled again. The expression had never fit comfortably on his face, not since he was a child, before he’d been assaulted, before he became a monster. Now, with his teeth filed to sharp points, his smile was absolutely terrifying. He remembered how threatening it had looked on Devon and even on Luscious and felt sorry for the nurse, but there was no way to make it look any less monstrous. He shut the smile down and turned away.

“Goodbye,” he said as he wandered back to his bed.

Fausto was there when he returned.

“Hey, hermano! You look good! You heal pretty quick, huh, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Listen, homes, there’s rumors going around that Devon and Luscious are going to fuck your shit up when you get back to genpop. You want me to say something to the warden for you? See if they can get you moved to another cell block?”

Joe shook his head.

“I’ll be okay, Fausto. Thanks for the warning.”

Fausto nodded.

“Okay. I know you’s a bad motherfucker and all, but you sure you don’t need help?”

Joe patted the big Mexican on the shoulder. Fausto flinched. Inmates didn’t touch each other much unless they were gay. Joe pulled his hand quickly away, seeing how uncomfortable it made his cellmate.

“You know what’s funny? Until I saw what you did to Devon, I was planning on raping your ass one night. I know you’re tough and shit, right? I mean, you fucked up Luscious and Armondo, right? Yeah, I knew about Armondo and I know you were trying not to say nothing, but my homies, they wanted you fucked up for that shit, right? And they wanted me to do it. They wanted me to rape you and then cut your loco ass up. You know, right? But after seeing you handle yourself, I knew you would have killed my ass if I tried some shit. Besides, you’re a pretty cool dude and Armondo was an asshole. It was only a matter of time before he fucked with the wrong dude. Plus, I know the screws made you fight him. It wasn’t like you just picked him out of a crowd and decided to rip his face off, you know, right? You ain’t have no choice. Anyway, I told the homies to just let it ride, so you don’t have to worry about no beef from us.”

Joe nodded.

“Thanks, Fausto.”

“You take care, hermano. Stay safe and I’ll see you back in the cell.”

Fausto held up a bottle of pain killers so Joe could read the label. It was a bottle of percocets with Joe’s name on it. Fausto placed them in his pocket.

“I swiped them from one of the nurses. Last week. I figured you were tough enough you didn’t need ’em anyway, huh, right?”

“That’s fine. You take ’em. Consider it payment for Armondo.”

Fausto smiled and nodded enthusiastically then and stuck out his fist.

“Huh, right?”

Joe bumped fists with him.

“Right.”

“One more thing, hermano. You’re gonna need something besides those teeth to protect yourself with. Here—”

He handed Joe a little toothbrush with a razor blade embedded in it. The bristles had been melted and the blade was stuck in the wax, then glued down with something, and wrapped in duct tape.

“It works, homes. You’ll see. You might need it.”

“Thanks again, Fausto.”

“No problem, hermano. I mean, I was planning on raping you. I guess this is the least I could do, huh, right?”

Joe smiled.

“Right.”

“Those teeth of yours are fucking crazy! You’re fucking loco for real, huh, right? You take care of yourself and I’ll see you back in the cell.”

Fausto left and Joe sat silently on his bed. He thought about his mother for the first time since her last visit. He wondered if he should try to see her again when he got out, but knew the Federal Marshals would have her place staked out for sure, expecting him to try to make contact. In all likelihood, her last visit was the last time he’d ever see her. Joe sighed deeply and tears welled up unexpectedly in his eyes.

His life had changed so much in the last few years. He’d fought so hard to maintain some semblance of normalcy when he first felt the psychotic urges overwhelming him. He’d done everything he was supposed to do. He went to counseling. He tried to lose himself in his art. He even spoke to his professor about it before taking the matter into his own hands and seeking out his own cure. Now, his entire life had changed. Before he’d been afraid he would grow fangs and fur and turn into some sort of werewolf or vampire. Ultimately, he had fashioned his own fangs and become something as bad or worse than the mythical creatures whose legends he’d looked to for a solution to his problem. His life had now changed in ways he would have never been able to imagine. The idea that it might all be over soon was exhilarating. He only wished Alicia was still around to share it with him. He missed her so badly it was like physical pain. Again, his thoughts drifted to Alicia’s sister, Lana. She was so different from Alicia in so many ways, but so similar as well. If he could make her love him, his life would be complete. But he knew that was impossible. And what about Selene and his grandfather? They both had to be handled before he could even think about loving anyone or being loved. Even after he escaped, Joe knew the myriad of obstacles in his life would be far from over.

Joe sighed deeply, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his problems. Nothing was ever simple, but Joe was resolved to getting his life back. Anything or anyone that stood in the way of that was in for a very short life. When Joe looked up and casually scanned the room, noting his fellow patients, the stern nurses who seemed to double as corrections officers themselves, two of the less than half-dozen full-time doctors the prison employed, Fausto busily mopping up some mess caused by one of the other patients while glowering at the patient murderously, Nathan helping transfer a coughing older inmate who looked to be in his seventies or eighties from a gurney to one of the beds, he spotted officer Belton standing outside the infirmary again, peering in at him and scowling. Belton was definitely going to be a problem. And Joe couldn’t allow any problems. Not when he was so close to regaining his life.

Part V

Ikizukuri 

One small adult 

One large lemon 

Soy sauce to taste 

Two bottles of saki

When eating raw long pig, just as in sushi, freshness is critical. Refrigeration hardens and dries the meat. The fresher it is when served, the juicier, more succulent, and softer the meat will be. Ikizukuri literally means “prepared alive.” There is no fresher meat than one that is still twitching, moaning, and screaming. To begin, prepare the meat by getting the long pig to imbibe both bottles of saki. This is preferable to drugging the victim as certain narcotics can interfere with the taste of the meat and the saki will add flavor. Restraints will still be necessary. 

Surgically slice off the flesh of adult long pig, avoiding all the vital organs and major arteries to keep the long pig alive. Cut the flesh into paper-thin sheets. Drizzle with lemon and soy sauce. Reassemble it in the long pig's body and serve with wasabi and soy sauce.

Forty-Two 

Cindy came for him exactly at midnight. There were other inmates still awake. He could hear them mumbling, whispering, and moaning in pain in the dark all around him. They all knew better than to say shit about his visitor. Ratting out a CO was a good way to get yourself killed. Ratting out the most dangerous inmate in the penitentiary and a CO was a guarantee of certain death. Cindy held up a finger, a needless reminder for Joe to be silent as he slipped from beneath the cover into his prison slippers.

There were no nurses on the floor when Joe and Cindy crept out of the infirmary and down the hall. Joe’s excitement was at a fever pitch. They turned down another hall and started toward the stairs leading down to the prison morgue. That’s when Joe heard the first footsteps and smelled the familiar testosterone musk of his old friend, Officer Belton. He was following them.

There were cameras in every hall and room except the morgue. Evidently, Belton was looking for something more than just proof of Joe’s romantic involvement with Cindy. He wanted to catch them red-handed and make some sort of scene. Joe was having a hard time figuring out the man’s angle. The number of people Joe was going to have to kill before he could be free of this place was continuing to grow. Unlike what he had to do to Cindy, killing Belton was something Joe knew he would never regret.

Joe’s predatory instincts were now fully engaged. The monster was awake and in a fury. It hated being pursued. It wanted to taste blood. Joe took note of the security cameras he passed, looking for a blind-spot where he could end the pursuit. They passed a room meant for temporary solitary confinement and the door was ajar. Joe paused and peeked inside. There were no cameras.

“You want to go in there?” Cindy asked.

“No. I was just curious. Let’s go down to the morgue. Do you mind if I stop to take a piss? I’ll catch up to you.”

Cindy stood her ground.

“I’d better stay with you in case somebody finds you.”

“I’ll tell them I came down here on my own. It’s better than them finding us together. That would be harder to explain.”

Cindy thought about it and nodded.

“Okay. Be quick though.”

“I will. I’ll see you down in the morgue. I know the way.”

Joe watched Cindy enter the stairwell and listened for her footsteps fading away down the stairs and the door at the bottom opening and shutting before turning to focus his attention on the stealthy footsteps advancing from the opposite direction. He slipped into the isolation cell and waited, peering through the crack in the door. It wasn’t long before he saw the bald head and wide shoulders of Officer Belton slip past the cell door. His radio was turned down low, but Joe could still hear it squawk. Belton whispered a curse then turned the radio volume down even lower. Joe flung the door open and dragged Belton inside before he could so much as scream. Belton was built like a football player, heavy and muscular, but he was still no match for the enormous super-predator. Joe’s body was built for killing. His arms were thick as pythons and his body was like a suit of armor—hard, unyielding, and nearly impervious. Belton fought his way free, twisting and throwing punches and elbows, but not before Joe stripped him of his radio and pepper spray. He turned off the radio and dropped it to the floor. Now, the only sound in the room was their combined heavy breathing.