Maniacs with Knives Read online

  “But what do I call you?” Erin thought maybe she could reason with the man if she could somehow connect with him. He probably didn’t get out much. He was probably lonely.

  “You can call me Ben for all I care. Though I’m hoping the world will recognize me by something great. Maybe ‘the Artist.’ That has a ring to it.”

  “So, you want fame?”

  “Yes. I want to be known throughout the world for my work. I’m hoping that you, my blank canvas, will be my greatest masterpiece.” Ben stared down at the tray of knives in front of him as if he were trying to decide on a dish at his favorite restaurant.

  Think, Erin. Think.

  “And what happens if I can’t be the canvas you want me to be? What happens if I’m not a masterpiece when you’re finished?”

  He looked up from the tray and frowned, looking defeated.

  It’s working.

  “What if I can’t bring you the fame you want?”

  Ben’s frown disappeared, and he shrugged. “No harm. No foul. I’ll just find another canvas.”

  Erin stared blankly at him. “But I. . . I. . .”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think you were special earlier. While I have high hopes for you, I’m afraid you are hardly the first woman I’ve had in here. You should have realized that by the state of that mattress.”

  Erin was quiet. Shit.

  “If you want, later I can show you the other room where I keep my ‘failed projects.’ We can count them. I bet there’s at least a dozen. I’ll warn you, though: the smell isn’t the greatest.”

  “No,” Erin said, trying to remain calm, trying to remain friendly to the madman, but inside her head, she was screaming in terror. “I believe you. I don’t need to see them.”

  Ben smiled again. “Good. And guess what? I think I’ve finally decided how to get started.” He picked up a strange looking object. It looked like a pair of pliers, but with an extra handle.

  “Do you know what this is?”

  Erin shook her head.

  “It’s a Costotome. It’s used for cutting ribs. Surgeons would grip onto these two handles to have the equipment grab onto a rib. Then once that was locked into place, they would use this third lever to operate the blade.”

  “Please. . . No.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not planning on touching your ribs with this. Oh, heaven’s no. That’s not what I generally use this for. Maybe one day I’ll use it on a rib cage, but for right now, it works pretty damn good on fingers.”

  Jen’s fingers gripped the shower knob and turned it off. She knew she had spent way too much time in there as it was. If her parents were home, they would have yelled at her for wasting water.

  And if they found out what I had in mind for later, they’d be even madder.

  She opened the glass door and grabbed the towel that was hanging on the hook nearby. After drying herself off, she hopped onto the bathroom rug and peered around the corner. The digital clock on her dresser said, ‘8:09.’

  “Shit!”

  Jen hadn’t realized she spent so much time in the shower touching herself. She had told Troy to be at her house around 8:30, but she knew he liked to come early.

  Hopefully not tonight.

  She chuckled to herself as she raced to her bed and reached under the frame for the black bag. After a few grabs at nothing but air, she pulled it out and dumped the contents onto her mattress. Jen grabbed the red, lacy thong, put one foot through each of the leg holes, and slid it up to her hips. Next, she grabbed the top and threw it over her head. It looked like a see-through tank top. She repositioned it, so it showed a lot of cleavage but decided to check the mirror to see how it looked.

  Going back into the bathroom, she saw the mirror wouldn’t do much good in the state it was in. She picked her towel up off the floor and wiped the mirror down as steam had totally fogged it over. Finally satisfied she cleared enough away, she tossed the towel aside and checked herself out, making sure to turn and look over her shoulder.

  Damn, girl. Troy is one lucky guy. If he plays his cards right, maybe we-

  In the mirror, she saw a dark figure walk by the doorway of her room. Jen jumped and spun around. Her heart was pounding as she looked around for a weapon. Suddenly, a smile crept across her face.

  Troy, you sly devil.

  Jen had almost forgotten she had confessed this fetish to her boyfriend. She had long fantasized about someone breaking into her house and having their way with her. She had only told one other person about that, and she thought Jen was nuts. Troy said that maybe they could try it sometime. She also remembered that he promised her something special tonight.

  Jen grinned ear-to-ear and in a hokey voice said, “Oh, I’m so scared being in this house all by myself. I hope nothing bad happens.” She waited, but Troy didn’t appear.

  Playing hard to get? Well, I guess I’ll just have to find you.

  She left the bathroom and her room behind and went into the hallway. She looked toward her parent's room but remembered Troy said it would be weird to have sex in their bed. Turning the other way, she saw the other spare bedrooms and the stairs.

  Where would you go?

  Jen headed toward the stairs. “I think I’ll get a glass of water. It’s so hot even though I’m wearing so little cl-“

  She stopped in her tracks. In front of her on the carpet, lie her cell phone. It was broken in two pieces. It wasn’t making any sense to Jen. She couldn’t understand why Troy would break her phone.

  Then, she saw why.

  The man that walked up the stairs was not her boyfriend. Her boyfriend wasn’t over six feet. Her boyfriend wouldn’t be covered in blood. Her boyfriend wouldn’t be wearing the flesh of her father’s face as a mask.

  “Never heard of him.”

  “You’ve never heard of the Bay River Slasher? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Nope. Sorry,” Owen said as he threw his long hair back, taking another shot of whiskey.

  “How could you not have heard of him!? Those killings were nationwide news in the 90s.”

  He laughed. “The 90s? I was born in the 90s. If you were some big shot, I wouldn’t have heard of you. I was probably still sucking on my momma’s tit.”

  Alex couldn’t believe it. He always thought of himself as a living legend. He was infamous. He was the most prolific serial killer to never get caught. And now, this stranger was telling him that he was a nobody, that who he was had vanished from everyone’s memory.

  Alex took a drink and sat at his barstool, defeated. He looked around at all the people in the room laughing and having a good time. During his killing spree, people had locked themselves in their houses. Bars like this one would close up early due to lack of patrons. The streets weren’t safe. The police were always on patrol. The Bay River Slasher was feared by the whole country.

  Now, nothing.

  “So, Mr. Big Shot, you going to talk or what?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I wanted to hear a story,” Owen said, ordering yet another shot. “Enlighten me on who you used to be.”

  “Alright,” Alex said, thinking about where to start. It had been so long ago, and he had never told anyone his secret before. He looked around at the rest of the bar, thinking that someone else might be listening in on their conversation. No one was paying attention to him.

  I’ve been forgotten.

  “It all started on September 25th, 1991. . .”

  “Well, Kim. You’ve certainly fucked things up.”

  And now, you’re talking to yourself. That’s surely a sign of psychosis.

  “Shut up.”

  Kim looked down at the body of her husband. In mere minutes, her life as she knew it disappeared. There was no going back after this. No reset button would clean up this mess and raise the dead. She knew she was screwed unless she could prove it was self-defense.

  With your history? Doubtful.

  “I said shut up!”

&nbsp
; She had to figure out how to fix this. Fortunately, she realized that she had quite a bit of time. Rich was unemployed and didn’t keep in much contact with friends and family, if at all. Being completely honest with herself, Kim could probably pick up a few more hours now that she didn’t have to keep Rich happy and she’d be able to pay most of the bills.

  But what about the body? You can’t just leave him here like this. Someone could look in that window at any-

  “Yes. Yes. I know. I need to clean this up. Then, when I’m thinking more clearly, I can decide how to move forward.”

  A broom and mop will take care of the floor, but won’t do shit for a dead body.

  “Well, what do you fucking suggest, voice in my head?”

  I suggest you grab a bunch of garbage bags and look for the hacksaw in the garage.

  Chapter Three

  Knowing your Knives

  Erin watched in horror as the costotome clamped down hard onto her pinkie finger. She wished she had put up a fight when he untied her hands from behind her back just to retie them to the posts of the bed. He had held a knife to her throat as he did it and she had no doubt he would use it. Thinking back, maybe it would have been a better way to go.

  “Now, you might feel a little pinch.” He locked the handles and opened his hand to get a grip on the third handle.

  “JAKE!” she yelled out of nowhere. “I was with my boyfriend Jake when you took me. What happened to him?”

  Ben laughed. “I wondered when you were going to ask about him. My special blend of knockout juice tends to leave its victims a little fuzzy on the details. You’ve just got to think real hard, and it’ll come back to you.”

  Keep him talking. Maybe he’ll see you as more than a canvas.

  Erin shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t remember anything other than going to the movies with him. I’m worried about him.”

  “Think back. You two didn’t finish your movie. You must have left the showing early, and no other movie was starting soon because you two just happened to find yourself outside the theater when no one else was around. You probably wanted to find someplace a little more secluded. Probably wanted to do what teenagers do late at night. I’m sure he talked you into it. You two were walking in the parking lot-”

  “You. . . You asked us for some change.”

  Ben clapped his hands and jumped up excitedly. Erin was happy that his hand left the costotome. Though, it was still clamped on her finger. “Now, you’re starting to remember. Guilty as charged. I pretended to be nothing more than a simple panhandler.”

  “You asked for change and then. . ,”

  A flood of images passed through Erin’s head. She saw Jake reaching both hands into his pockets to retrieve some coins. She saw the hobo pull out a pocket knife and slash her boyfriend’s throat while he was defenseless. He fell to the asphalt with only gurgling noises coming from his mouth. Erin opened her mouth to scream, but a wet rag quickly covered it. She felt herself get lightheaded and she hit the ground next to Jake. His eyes were wide and vacant. The blood from the wound on his neck crept toward her. She wanted to get away, but couldn’t move. Then, there was nothing.

  “You killed him. YOU KILLED JAKE!”

  Ben frowned. “I know you’re upset. It’ll pass. I know you probably won’t see it yet, but he didn’t appreciate you the way I will. I was a young man once. I know what it’s like to be a teenage boy. He was only thinking about getting his dick wet. He wanted to use your body for his sick desires. I, on the other hand, want to bring out your true beauty. I want to glorify your body.”

  His hand gripped the tool once again.

  “No! Please.”

  “I have a good feeling about this. It was fate that brought us together. You’re going to be my masterpiece.”

  He clamped the third handle down. Erin’s screams filled the basement however no one would be able to hear them. At the same time, no one could hear Ben utter one simple word.

  “Beautiful.”

  Jen’s screams filled the upstairs hallway as the stranger advanced toward her with a meat cleaver raised above his head. She ran back to her bedroom and locked the door behind her. Within seconds, the door shook on its hinges as if it were hit with a sledgehammer. Jen ran to her window but quickly decided against it. She knew from prior experience that there was no climbing out or climbing up as Troy had tried in the past. She could scream for help, thinking it might scare him away.

  Guys that wear other people’s faces don’t get scared.

  A long crack formed on the door as it was struck by another blow. Jen knew she’d have to fight to survive, but didn’t know what she could use as a weapon. Another crack split the door, and she saw the meat cleaver for a second. Not knowing what else to do, she ran for her bathroom and locked that door behind her. She threw open all the drawers and searched for anything that could cause some damage. She heard her bedroom door finally give out and footsteps heading toward her.

  Shit. Shit! SHIT!

  The door rocked on its hinges, and all Jen managed to find was a small pair of scissors she sometimes used to trim split ends. The door started to give away with each blow from the cleaver. Jen stood on her bathmat in her new lingerie with her hand gripped on the scissors as if it were a knife.

  Finally, a piece of the door fell away. A bloody hand reached through and grabbed for the doorknob. Jen sprang forward, plunged the scissors into the man’s hand, and quickly jumped back. The hand retreated taking her only weapon with it. The man never made a sound. In fact, now the whole house was quiet.

  Could he have left?

  It didn’t make sense. Jen knew she couldn’t have hurt him that bad. She slowly stepped off the bathmat and went toward the door. Leaning forward, she peered through the gaping hole in the wood.

  Nothing.

  Still not entirely convinced, Jen pushed her head through the hole so she could get a better view of her bedroom. The hand grabbed a fistful of black hair and pulled. Jen screamed as her shoulders slammed against the part of the door still standing. Her legs uselessly flailed in the air. She tried to use her hands to push against the doorframe to get away, but he was too strong. She looked up at the man wearing her father’s flesh. His lips formed a smile between her father’s dead lips. It was the most revolting thing she had ever seen and the second to last thing she ever saw.

  The last thing was the meat cleaver coming down.

  “. . . And I just couldn’t take it anymore.” Alex said, slamming his drink down on the bar.

  *****

  I had a pretty decent life. I had a great job. I had my fair share of women. Still, something was missing. I had these dark urges most of my life, but I had never acted on them. These urges kept building, kept growing, kept pushing to be released.

  I finally gave in that day.

  I loaded up my car with a bunch of supplies. I had a tarp, duct tape, rope, garbage bags, lots of knives, and most importantly, a plan. I drove out of state and began the hunt for any young women who were hitchhiking. I figured that if they were out on the road, they were less likely to be noticed as missing or they were already listed as a missing person to begin with. Either way, the risk would be much lesser than grabbing someone that might be expected into work the next day or who always calls their mom every night. These runaways had nobody to miss them. If I was going to give in to my dark urges, I was going to make sure I didn’t get caught.

  As luck would have it, it didn’t take long for me to find my first target. I was half-hoping I wouldn’t find anyone, that I’d turn around and forget my plans. Maybe I could have fought those urges, and eventually, they’d go away. The other half of me was excited and screamed at me to apply the brakes when I saw her thumb. My foot agreed.

  “Where you headed?”

  She leaned down to peer into my car through my rolled-down window. I could see her eyes searching for something. I knew she might have been attacked in the past, maybe even raped. She probably knew what to look for. Lucki
ly for me, unlucky for her, my supplies were hidden in the trunk.

  “As far as you’ll take me.”

  I nodded and unlocked the passenger side door. She got in, and I finally got a good look at her. She had to be in her early twenties. Her long hair was probably golden blonde several years or showers ago. The road had taken its toll on her, and yet, she still was quite beautiful even as thin as she was.

  “That’s the weird thing to say,” I replied. “You’ve got to be going somewhere?”

  She shook her head. “No. Not really. I just want to see the world and traveling by car sure beats hoofing it.”

  “Fair enough.”

  The car went silent. I wasn’t really sure what to talk about. I wasn’t the type of guy who could just start up conversations with strangers. Besides that, my mind was preoccupied with deciding on how I was going to kill her. Small talk was the last thing on my mind as my urges formed dark thoughts in my head.

  I felt the car rumble as my tires started to weave onto the shoulder. My gaze had lingered a little too long on my passenger, taking my eyes off the road. I realized it, and so did she. Her body shifted away from me, and she crossed her arms over her small breasts in an attempt to hide them.

  Way to go. Now she’s got her guard up.

  “I think maybe this is far enough. You can stop here.”

  I looked at the road in front of me. My eyes then went to my rearview mirror.

  Sounds good to me.

  My foot agreed again and slammed on the brakes. My seatbelt held tight against my chest, protecting me. My passenger’s, however, did not because she hadn’t put hers on. Maybe this was one of the tricks she had learned on the road. Maybe you’re not supposed to wear a seatbelt in case you need to jump out of a car. It didn’t matter anymore. Regardless of the reason, she’d never have to worry about who picked her up. She’d never hitchhike again, or do anything else for that matter. Her face hit the dash hard. Her body bounced back into the seat. Blood poured out from her nostrils, and her eyes looked dazed. Not taking any chances, I grabbed a bunch of that dirty blond hair and smashed her head back into the dashboard again and again.