Abomination (2 page)

The sound of the exploding door startled her, but the
monster she saw standing in her bathroom terrified her. Laura knocked over
several candles lining the tub as she grabbed the sides trying to stand after
she heard him crash through the door. Her book was face down in the water
between her legs. His ghastly appearance caused her mouth to freeze open, but she
remained silent. From his hiding place in her backyard to the doorway in the
bathroom, his normal human appearance was replaced by something she had only
experienced in the pages of a book. Very much like the one slowly sinking to
the bottom of her tub.

Staring at her naked body, Peter was filled with ecstasy
laced with rage. He was so close to tasting her that he began to
hyperventilate. Still silent, Laura leaned back as if she were trying to force
an invisible escape door to open behind her. The door didn’t open as Peter
stepped towards her, but she finally was able to scream. It was music to his ears.

He knew he couldn’t fully enjoy his work at her house.
There was the off chance someone might stop by to visit, or her roommate
could’ve cut his trip short. He needed to get her back to the abandoned
farmhouse where they’d be alone and free from any interruption. It took every
ounce of restraint for Peter not to devour her where she sat. As her screams
echoed off every wall in the house, he delivered a nose-breaking punch,
rendering her unconscious and quiet. He closed his eyes as he licked her blood
off his knuckles. His transformation to an uncaring, unsympathetic, and
uncontrollable demon was complete.

An FBI fugitive recovery team, along with SWAT and sniper
units, was assembled in a sheriff’s department briefing room. They had been
hunting UA Marine Peter Arrington for nearly a month before tracking him to an
abandoned farmhouse in Virginia. The agents knew he’d be taking his fourth
victim within 12 hours.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Ryan Pearson, and I’m
a special agent with the FBI. I’d also like to introduce agents Dallas Chase,
Michelle Dobbs, and Thomas Freeman,” said Ryan as the three agents rose in the
front row. “We’re part of a federal task force with only one job: find Peter
Arrington.”

“Is he the reason we have three missing women in our
county that hasn’t seen a murder in nine years?” asked local Sheriff Bill
Parker in a slow southern drawl.

“Yes, sir,” responded Ryan, knowing he wouldn’t be a
welcomed visitor in the normally quiet town. “We have overwhelming evidence
he’s the guy responsible.”

“Give it to me straight. Are they dead?”

“Until we recover the bodies, I can’t say for sure. But
I can say, based on the evidence, it’s very unlikely they’re still alive.”

“I gotta tell ya, I find it a little troubling we haven’t
been allowed access to any of that evidence,” said Sheriff Parker.

“Sheriff, you’re not going to like my answer, but that
information is classified.”

“You’re right, I don’t. We’re a close community and we
look out for each other. Always have. I know each of those missing girls and
their families. I’d like to go to them with something more than it’s
classified.”

“I understand your concern, but –”

“No, sir,” interrupted Sheriff Parker. “You don’t
understand my concern. I tried to get help three months ago, but I couldn’t get
one damned FBI agent to give me the time of day. Now I’ve got over twenty of
you armed to the teeth and jammed in my briefing room. My boys and I have
barely slept since Laura Ackerman went missing three months ago. Who the hell
is Peter Arrington?”

“Sheriff, we don’t have much time,” said Ryan with a
stern tone. “Most of your questions will be answered once we have him in
custody. But right now we need to focus on stopping him from killing again – and
he will kill again. According to a fairly regulated timeline of the abductions,
he’s due. He seems to be a creature of habit. He’s also incredibly elusive.

“We believe he’s bringing his victims to the farmhouse
alive,” said Ryan, standing in front of a corkboard displaying photos of each
missing girl and a layout of the farmhouse. “He’ll spend one day, maybe two, at
the house and then he’ll disappear. He’s taken each victim exactly six weeks
apart to the day. We have surveillance teams already posted in the field. If he
sticks with his method, he should be returning late this evening.”

“Jesus Christ!” blurted Sheriff Parker. “He’s out there
right now looking for his next victim in my county, and you’re going to let him
take her? This is bullshit! We need to be warning people, not sitting on our
asses. This information needs to be on every television and radio station
within a hundred miles. I thought you federal boys would have your shit
together. Do you not understand I have an obligation to protect the citizens
who elected me to this office?”

Ryan walked to the table where the sheriff and his
deputies were sitting. He knelt down beside Parker’s chair. He wanted their
undivided attention.

“He cuts them until they lose enough blood to where they
can’t fight, but are still conscious and aware. He wants them to watch his
work. He viciously rapes them several times before he starts to disembowel
them. Again, he doesn’t remove any vital organs that will kill them instantly.
He only takes the parts he can play with while they’re alive. He’ll continue to
rape them, but he’ll start using objects and tools to do the job. When the
anger subsides and he grows tired after a day or two, he’ll lie down beside
them. He’ll hold them like a caring father holds a sick child. He wants to be
the last thing they see and feel before they die.

“Our best opportunity to stop him is tonight and in your
county. If we hit the streets trying to warn the public and show our cards,
he’ll know. And if he knows, he’ll disappear. Peter Arrington is a fucking
ghost. And he’s not the Casper kind. He’s the kind that comes right out of a
nightmare. But disappearing doesn’t mean he’ll stop killing. What you don’t
understand, is he has to kill.

“Your jurisdiction stops at the county line. Mine stops
at the border of Canada and Mexico. This is a federal case and you were invited
to this briefing as a courtesy. If you interrupt me one more time, you and your
boys will spend the rest of my visit in your own fucking jail. Is there
anything about my tone that makes you believe I’m not serious?”

The sheriff pressed his lips together and leaned back in
his chair as he looked at the federal agents surrounding him. He knew he was in
no position to argue. He needed to say his piece to look good in front of his
deputies, but even they were ready for him to stop talking.

“Get that sick son-of-a-bitch out of my county,” said
Parker. “The sooner you get rid of him, the sooner I get rid of all of you.”

“Deal,” said Ryan.

The sheriff and his deputies stood up and walked out of
the briefing. There was little they could do to assist the group assembled in
the crowded room. Ryan continued the detailed presentation using maps,
photographs, and data provided by the surveillance teams.

“My team, Alpha, will breach the rear of the house. 60
seconds later, Bravo team will enter through the front. Charlie team will cover
the rear. Delta, Echo, and Foxtrot teams will take up sniper positions covering
every the perimeter of the house. If he gets by the entry teams, you have the
green light. If you spot him without handcuffs, kill him. Are there any
questions from the snipers on the rules of engagement?”

No questions.

“Arrington is a special forces Marine. We have
intelligence that there may be sensors around the perimeter and he can possibly
intercept our radio communications. The mission will be conducted with absolute
radio silence. Remove the batteries from your cell phones and leave them in the
vehicles. No exceptions. Alpha is the only team authorized to break silence. We
don’t expect him to be there when we arrive, but we’ll approach and set up as
if he was. He’ll exploit and make us pay for any mistakes. Check your gear,
check it again, and assemble at the vehicles in twenty minutes for a final
briefing.”

The agents filed out of the room to prepare for the
mission. There were no rookies or first timers in the group. Every man and
woman was experienced and handpicked for the assault and teams. Each received
the call and arrived in the small western Virginia town in less than thirty-six
hours. The logistics required to put the group together were impressive. They
knew very little about Peter Arrington, but they all felt the sense of urgency
to put him behind bars or six feet underground. All of the agents cleared the
briefing room except Ryan’s team. There were a few items he needed to emphasize
to them before the assault.

“I don’t think you’ll be getting a Christmas card this
year from the sheriff, Boss,” said Agent Dallas Chase.

“I don’t blame him for being pissed,” said Ryan, working
on his second cup of coffee. “Any other situation and warning the public would
be our priority. But even if they barricaded themselves in storm cellars,
Arrington would still get to them.”

“This guy is no doubt a monster, but he’s still just a
man,” said Agent Thomas Freeman.

“Tom, I wish that statement was true,” said Ryan,
drawing the team in closer. “The reality is, he isn’t.”

“I don’t spook easy,” said Agent Michelle Dobbs, “but I
have to admit you’re creeping me out a little. So you’re telling us Arrington
isn’t human?”

“For reasons I can’t disclose at the moment, I’ve had to
keep specific information about his condition under wraps. Even though we’re
looking to take him down tonight, I won’t be able to answer many of the
questions I know you’re about to ask.”

“His condition?” started Dallas with the questions.

Ryan took a long purposeful drink out of his cup to
emphasize his next statement. “That one I can answer. Peter Arrington is
faster, stronger, and deadlier than any man we’ve hunted. And he’s the weakest
of the four Marines we need to find. All of them have been physically and
mentally altered by radical gene therapy treatments over the past two years.”

“Okay, now I’m officially creeped out,” said Michelle.

“You should be,” said Ryan. “The fastest human beings on
earth can run almost thirty miles per hour, but only for a few seconds.
Arrington was clocked at nearly forty, but he sustained the speed for two
minutes. The world record for the bench press is just over 1,000 pounds.
Arrington bench pressed 1,200. He did it twice before putting the weight down.”

“He doesn’t look like a world record sprinter or weight
lifter,” said Tom. “He’s definitely fit, but from his file photos he doesn’t
look much bigger than you, Boss. No offense.”

“None taken,” said Ryan. “You also wouldn’t be able to
tell his eyesight is comparable to a pair of binoculars, or his hearing and
sense of smell is comparable to a K-9. His brain processes information at
nearly twice the speed of a normal human. For lack of a better term, this guy
was built as a super soldier. All of them were.”

“They were built?” asked Dallas.

“That’s an area where I can’t go into much detail,” said
Ryan.

“Can’t or won’t?” asked Michelle.

“I can’t,” responded Ryan. “But mainly because I simply
don’t know. I promise each of you I’ll answer with what I do know, but I’ll also
tell you if I truly don’t.”

“Okay, so what can you tell us about how and why they
were built?” asked Tom.

“I don’t think it shocks any of you that the military
has been looking to build a better soldier. Most of the methods they use are
strictly regulated by civilian and government oversight committees. Each
soldier assigned to the research facility signed consent documents approved by
the Department of Health and Human Services as well as the FDA. Both agencies
have classified procedures in which civilians don’t have access, but the
information is mainly related to the individual results. This isn’t a new
process. It’s actually been around for decades.

“As far as the details about how they obtained those
incredible results, the scientists at the briefings in D.C. lost me in about
ten seconds. They did grab my attention when they started talking about the
Marine’s capabilities. The military was highly satisfied with the results until
the day all four decided to leave the facility.”

“You said they voluntarily consented,” said Michelle.
“Were they confined to the facility?”

“Oddly enough, no,” said Ryan. “They weren’t lab rats.
They had weekends off and took vacations. They went home to visit their
families like any other soldier.

“These guys weren’t a flight risk. All four were
decorated Marines holding Top Secret security clearances. From what I know,
they were highly patriotic and highly motivated. Up until the day they
disappeared, there were absolutely no indications they were unsatisfied or
unhappy with their assignment. They went through constant psychological
evaluations. And they passed every time.”

“So, what turned them into monsters?” asked Dallas. “One
day they’re super soldier patriots and then the next they’re serial rapist and
murderers? Doesn’t make sense, boss.”

“No, it doesn’t,” said Ryan. “Regardless of what synapse
misfired in their brains, they’re now killers. They’re now a serious threat to
anyone or anything they come across. Don’t get me wrong, I asked the deputy director
the same question. He gave me a simple answer. He told me to go find them so we
could ask.”

“Understood,” said Dallas. “I get your point. Enough
said.”

“Right now we need to focus on Arrington,” said Ryan,
bringing them back to the mission. “The scientist did tell me there may be a
weakness we can exploit. It’s one of the reasons we have to wait until he
brings his victim back to the farm. They said Arrington will probably be caught
up in the moment right before he starts his sadistic game. He’ll be more
focused on satisfying his urge rather than looking over his shoulder for us.
Once he gets her inside, we should be able to move into position at the back of
the house without alerting him. We’re going to make a quiet entry at the window
next to the rear door. They firmly believe it’s going to be our only shot at
taking him alive.”