EXODUS

— by Jeff Karamales

Chapter 8
The Darkest Heart
 

Law enforcement investigations had finally determined that James Pinkerton had a body count well over one hundred people with murders that spanned not only the Continental United States, but also parts of Canada and Mexico. Clinical psychiatric reports had discovered that Pinkerton hated all other humans, but saw himself as the next evolutionary step; a predator of predators, something he believed fervently with every fiber of his being. The large news agencies hadn’t wasted any time after his capture of sending out entire battalions of investigative reporters to uncover everything possible about the man, of the life he had while growing up in suburban Indiana. What was learned indicated that, for all intents and purposes, the deranged killer had had a normal life, something incongruous with the beginnings of most serial murderers. Another facet was that his killings didn’t seem to be tied into any psycho-sexual deviations that other serial killers throughout modern history suffered from.

Then strange reports began to filter in, neighbors that had been around the man during his formative years that only spoke after promises that their identities would be kept secret. Tales of abuse, torture, an inability to fit in with others began to circulate. One old man from the neighborhood where Pinkerton had spent his early childhood told of a sudden rash of pet disappearances that remained unsolved until a few years later when a construction company unearthed a mass burial site for a housing development that was to be built. When authorities investigated the animal grave, well over three dozen bodies and skeletal remains of cats, dogs and squirrels were documented.

A little more digging in the area uncovered three more skeletons, these of three children, two girls and a boy ages five, seven and eight that had gone missing with no trace of their whereabouts. Just feet away the decomposing body of a man that had been identified as a vagrant drifter was also unearthed.

While no one wanted to say anything, everyone realized that something evil was in their midst and caused neighbors to look at their fellows with suspicion. Police roamed the area when school was in session and Federal investigators were called in to begin a profile. For the most part the only thing that linked any of the bodies of both animals, children and man were that they were all buried in the same location, though only a few of the animal remains bore the same signs of being killed similarly. Despite the increased police presence, missing persons reports were still filed, normally for more children. It wasn’t until families began to vacate the area that the murders slowed to an average of one every six weeks.

No one ever thought to consider that the missing children were being hunted and killed by one of their peers until much later.

His own family moving to flee the heinous crimes that were being committed, the Pinkerton family relocated to Ohio, though James, at this point older, wiser, found that animals and children were no longer the same quarry he’d stalked as a twelve year old. Adults were far more challenging and thrilling. Again, however, his predations stymied law enforcement personnel as there wasn’t anything that truly linked any of the new disappearances; a young college girl, a gas station attendant in his mid thirties, a store manager for a national grocery chain were among the latest slew of victims. If anything, the only thing that linked any of the victims was a complete randomness to their selection. There was no specific ethnicity targeted, nor were they killed in similar ways. One was strangled, another stabbed. One was shot and while the weapon was found, it had been damaged to the point that retrieving any evidence from it was impossible.

James Pinkerton went to school then college, eventually landing a job with a company that would enable him to travel regularly, hence the widespread terror he was able to engage in. He was finally caught when he selected a man in Kansas City as a victim, the man one Harold Kincaid, a ten year student of martial arts despite being confined to a wheelchair. What Pinkerton thought would be just another victim to his prowess turned out to be more than the man could handle. His initial attack thwarted, Kincaid was able to fend off the killer, even giving James a very specific injury. From there it was fairly easy to track the serial murderer down through doctors’ records and such, the police also having an accurate description to go on.

It wasn’t long after his arrest that Pinkerton divulged that his spree had been carried across the North American continent and spanned decades, the first when he was ten years old and killed a one of the original missing children from his old neighborhood. From there forensic psychiatrists were able to link the man to cold cases that had baffled local, state and Federal law officers. When finally asked why, Pinkerton had responded with answers that chilled his interrogators.

James Pinkerton was an individual that tested genius level in IQ exams. He viewed himself as a superior being, better than the rest of humanity and murdering so many without getting caught or even considered as a suspect was proof of his delusions. He enjoyed the thrill of the stalk, reveled in the terror of his prey and celebrated in the kill. He was firmly convinced of his superiority and what he saw as his right to kill those he viewed as inferior. Had there been any question to his intellect, Pinkerton was able to put those questions to rest when he escaped, albeit only a week, from his death row cell at Federal Penitentiary at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. Unfortunately he was able to add to his body count during his temporary escape, leaving an entire family butchered in their house in an affluent neighborhood of Nashville, Tennessee.

Pinkerton’s trial was one of the most publicized in recent history and there was no doubt as to the verdict as the prosecution had not only mountains of incontrovertible evidence, there were the video and audio recordings of James’ Pinkerton’s confessions, as if he was actually flaunting his activities as contemptuously as possible to authorities. His death sentence came as no surprise to the rest of the population.

As Wyatt carried out his exercises for the morning, the rest of Group 1 also following the program, he felt a tingling on the back of his neck and turned to find Pinkerton appraising him with all of the emotion that a butcher would to a side of meat, the man’s gold, overly bright feline eyes as emotionless as glass marbles. He felt the same kind of tingling, gut clenching sensation that he had when he’d found himself in the water with a large tiger shark years before off the coast of Florida. It was unnerving and as his feet thumped on the belt of the treadmill, Wyatt felt his fingers twitch a little tighter on the safety bar, as if trying to extend claws that weren’t really there in a very feline reaction to a threat. It was an involuntary reaction, but he was able to quash the immediate flood of revulsion and look at it using the still logical portion of his brain. He came to the immediate conclusion that Lesko putting James Pinkerton through the same changes the rest of them were going through was perhaps one of the worst ideas ever acted upon.

Pinkerton viewed himself as better than his fellow humans, superior in both intelligence and prowess, an admittance given by the killer himself on numerous interviews. Now he was going to be given a form that, according to Doctor Emily Lesko, would make him and the other test subjects stronger, faster, more adaptable and exceedingly more lethal. If there was any way to make one that was already a threat more dangerous, Wyatt couldn’t come up with it. It was, to use the old adage, a bad idea in a long list of bad ideas.

Would completing the change only reinforce the views the man had about himself? Would it only push him to pick up his old ways, though with even more motivation and conviction? It wasn’t like the killer needed any extra motivation to kill.

As he turned his head to regard the serial murderer once more, Wyatt felt his blood suddenly chill as Pinkerton was regarding Perry Layton, though instead of the flat, emotionless way he’d been looking at Wyatt, James watched Perry with something that glittered dangerously in his intense eyes, as if he saw the larger man as something of a challenge, a test. Something welled up in Wyatt that he hadn’t felt in a long while. It wasn’t the fear that he’d been growing accustomed to as his body was warped by Lesko’s experiments, nor was it the confusion of enduring something so outlandish as genetic manipulation.

It was anger.

Anger filled the man. Anger that had had to work through all of the emotional layers his situation had heaped upon him, burning its way to the surface like a boil or abscess. The anger was all encompassing, directed at the guards, the medics and technicians, but at the core, like the kernel of a cyst, was a rage that smoldered for Emily Lesko, now added to by her inclusion of Pinkerton, a clear threat he posed to him and the others of the Group. Julie was correct; They would have to band together to survive their situation. 

*** 

If there was one place Wyatt felt more vulnerable than anywhere or anytime else, besides being under the mercies of Lesko, it was the showers and being naked in front of others. That feeling was only compounded with the addition of James Pinkerton to the mix. As it was in the exercise room, Wyatt found himself trying to keep the other man in view, not wanting to turn his back on the threat, and found Pinkerton again regarding the rest of the group. Perhaps it was their shared ordeal the previous day, or an underlying sense of danger, but the women were all on one side of the shower room, each in a position where they could keep an eye on both newcomers, the James in particular. The men, oddly enough, had done the same. All of them had killed at one point or another to have wound up on death row, but all of them sensed that Pinkerton was something vile and foul and felt better with space separating the man from them.

Perhaps that was why Wyatt jerked with a start as he let the water blast the gel soap from his scalp and its thickening cover of fine fur to find Pinkerton standing before him, completely nonplussed at his proximity to another male in spite of their nudity. The man didn’t say anything as he regarded Wyatt, his head tilting slightly as he seemed to take his measure. Swallowing hard and feeling an aching tingle in his fingertips to expose only half-formed claws, Wyatt fought not to let the low growl that wanted to rumble in his throat out as he spoke.

“Too close, Pinkerton,” Wyatt managed, somewhat proud that his voice came out calm and without a waver. “Respect my personal space.”

James’ mouth twitched slightly at one corner, his pupils contracting slightly, though that was the only outward sign that he paid to Wyatt’s warning. He continued to regard the other man for several more seconds, his physical bearing demonstrating a completely relaxed state until his pupils widened slightly and he smiled, though there was no warmth or mirth in the expression. “You understand,” Pinkerton said softly, the words clear but low, almost the same tone one would use with a lover in a moment of intimacy. Then, without anything else said or indicated, he turned and resumed his own washing.

Wyatt took a deep, centering breath, his heart hammering in his chest at the confrontation. As he shut off the water to his shower, Wyatt saw Julie looking at him with the first hint of fear he’d seen from her since they’d all been herded into the Group 1 chamber, and that, more than anything, worried him deeply. They both knew that, for some reason, Pinkerton had either just marked him as a desirable target, or as a potential equal.

Either way, it was something that was frightening to the man and woman.

— NEXT CHAPTER —

Unless otherwise noted, all material © Ted R. Blasingame. All rights reserved.