Asylum - 13 Tales of Terror (23 page)

“Yeah, sit down you pillock,” Eddie grinned, “We’re all in this together, even if you do look like a serial killer.”

“Serial killers take many different forms young man,” a deep rumbling voice from the doorway startled them all.

Sara turned to see a tall broad man enter the room. He had longish wavy brown hair pushed backwards. His face was broad and controlled, his skin was tanned and smooth, and he exuded a natural authority. He wore small round glasses with a tortoise shell frame which softened his face and added an air of intelligence. He wore a checked brown sports jacket over a crisp white and black tie and he carried a leather briefcase with a battered and worn exterior that spoke of experience. For the briefest of seconds Sara was sure that Randolph had returned; perhaps the afterlife was not to his liking, or perhaps he just needed an assistant to take back with him. On second glance she was relieved. Where Randolph’s eyes were cold and hard, this man’s were warm and kind.

“Professor Rourke?” She asked.

“At your service ladies and gentleman, and please at this ungodly hour, it’s Michael,” he said as he moved to the front of the class, balancing a stack of papers in his other hand.

“Do you need some help with those Professor, Michael?” she corrected herself.

“No thank you, I’m sure that I can…” it was as far as he got before the papers fell from his grasp and scattered all over the floor, “Bugger,” he muttered charmingly.

Before she realised she was doing it, Sara had sprung forward and began gathering the papers up quickly in a reflex action from her previous life, even cowering slightly as she did it. She handed the papers back to the professor and rushed back to her seat, blushing furiously enough to put Molly to shame. She ignored Lacey’s eyebrow raise as she sat down again.

“Well now, why don’t we start again?” the professor smiled towards the class. “My name is Michael Rourke and I will be your professor for the duration of the course. I only have one rule in my class; all phones are to be switched off and tucked away safely beyond temptation in your bags.”

The class all complied, some with a little more reluctance than others.

“Why don’t we start with a little introductory course of our own?” Professor Rourke continued.

Barry stood formally, “My name is Barry Champlain.”

Eddie and Lacey sniggered.

“That is to say that my professional name is Champlain,” he added snippily. “I am here for research purposes.”

Eddie and Lacey suddenly went deathly quiet as they both stared on nervously.

“I am a writer of thriller fiction,” Barry said with a satisfied grin, “And I wanted to attempt to get inside a serial killer’s mind for my latest work.”

“That’s not a long trip,” Eddie said under his breath and Lacey giggled.

Sara cast a disapproving look towards Lacey.
Perhaps Lacey wasn’t going to be the sort of friend that she had first hoped
, she thought.

“Who’s next?” Professor Rourke asked.

“I’m Lacey Donovan,” Lacey stood and curtseyed theatrically. “I’m here because I saw the class ad and figured that it might be good for a few laughs. Since the divorce I’ve decided to try new things. I wanted to take an evening class and this looked interesting.

“Eddie Callahan,” Eddie said, not bothering to stand. “My folks got a little uptight because I was flunked out of college. My old man’s a copper and this was all his wonderful idea. He thought I might get a taste and want to follow in the great Callahan family tradition,” he shrugged.

“Molly O’Kelly,” Molly said quietly. “I was intrigued by the subject matter. I just tend to lean towards the darkness I guess,” she barely managed to finish the sentence out loud and did not make any eye contact whilst speaking.

“And you Miss?” Professor Rourke said towards Sara.

“Sara Wilton. I’ve just recently moved back here and I thought that this might be a nice way to meet some new people,” Sara said with an embarrassed glance at the ground.

“Well now, now that we’re all acquainted why don’t we get started?” Professor Rourke said glancing at his watch, “We don’t have all night after all.”

Sara couldn’t help but notice that the professor repeatedly lifted his glasses and rubbed his nose as though something was bothering him. She suddenly reddened as he caught her looking.

“I probably need a new prescription,” he said smiling, “These are killing me.” He cast a look around the gathered class. “Why don’t we start with what defines a serial killer. The FBI defines serial murder as: A minimum of three to four victims, with a "cooling off" period in between. The killer is usually a stranger to the victim, and the murders appear unconnected or random. The murders reflect a need to sadistically dominate the victim. The murder is rarely "for profit"; the motive is psychological, not material. The victim may have "symbolic" value for the killer; method of killing may reveal this meaning. Killers often choose victims who are vulnerable; prostitutes, runaways, etc.”

Sara watched the professor as he spoke. His eyes seemed to come alight and his manner exuded a calm authority. He held the room effortlessly and even Eddie and Lacey were paying close attention.

“Convicted serial killers have used a variety of excuses for their behavior.
Henry Lee Lucas
blamed his upbringing; others like
Jeffrey Dahmer
say that they were just born with a "part" of them missing.
Ted Bundy
claimed pornography made him do it.
Herbert Mullin
- Santa Cruz killer of thirteen - blamed the voices in his head that told him it was time to "sing the die song". Carl Panzram swore that it was prison that turned him into a monster, while
Bobby Joe Long
said that a motorcycle accident had made him hypersexual and eventually a serial lust killer. The most psychopathic amongst the breed, like
John Wayne Gacy
, somehow turned the blame around and said that his victims actually deserved to die.”

“Surely they’re all just a bunch of nut-jobs?” Eddie said dismissively.

“Is that your clinical opinion doctor?” Barry retorted.

“Hey I’m just saying that those guys were all mental cases, whacking off staring at the moon in filthy underpants,” Eddie said succinctly.

“Do you think that you would be able to spot one of these gentlemen on the street?” Professor Rourke asked a little tersely.

“Of course I would, who the hell wouldn’t?” Eddie responded.

“Well statistically, the average serial killer is a white male from a lower-to-middle-class background, usually in his twenties or thirties. Who does that sound like Eddie?” Rourke said staring directing at Eddie. “Did you know that some are very intelligent and have shown great promise as successful professionals? They are also fascinated with the police and authority in general. Many of them will have applied to become police themselves but were rejected; they may have worked as security guards or served in the military.”

“Didn’t you say that your family had a long history of police service Eddie?” Barry smirked.

“Hey screw you weirdo!” Eddie snapped, “How would like me to wipe that smug grin off of your face?”

“Settle down Eddie,” Rourke ordered.

“Hey he started it,” Eddie sulked.

“What are you twelve?” Lacey sniggered.

Sara could see that Eddie was getting agitated; his face was growing purple with unexpressed anger. She could guess that he was a man used to getting his own way in all affairs. Eddie’s good looks and athletic build had surely paved his easy path through life to date.

Eddie suddenly jumped to his feet. His eyes were bulging as he struggled to vocalize his feelings, “I didn’t come here to be insulted.”

“Why where do you usually go?” Barry quipped.

Eddie made a clumsy lunge towards Barry, only in his rage his feet snagged on his chair leg and he stumbled forward. A spontaneous laugh broke out from Barry, Lacey, and even Molly which only served to enrage Eddie further.

“Calm down Eddie,” Sara offered somewhat ineffectively.

Eddie staggered back to his feet, ripped his lumberjack shirt from the back of the chair and stormed violently out, slamming the door behind him.

“Well now, that was rather an inauspicious start,” Professor Rourke said a little shakily. “Give me a minute guys and I’ll see if I can get him to calm down and come back.”

Professor Rourke left the classroom in a somewhat quieter fashion than Eddie.

Lacey leaned across towards Sara, “Well that certainly was entertaining for our first night,” she giggled.

“Spoilt child,” Barry said with a sniff.

“Don’t be mean Barry,” Molly said quietly.

The door opened and Professor Rourke entered, “Sorry folks, but we’re going to be one short, at least for tonight.”

“Where’s Eddie?” Molly asked.

“He’s gone for the evening,” Professor Rourke said regretfully.

“Pouty child,” Barry said a little gleefully.

“Now where were we?” Professor Rourke asked.

“Serial killers?” Molly answered.

“Oh right, right. Many were physically or emotionally abused by parents. As children, fledgling serial killers often set fires, torture animals, and wet their beds. These red-flag behaviors are known as the "triad" of symptoms. Brain injuries are also common.”

“So what are the medical research facts surrounding these subjects?” Sara asked, growing interested again.

“Well, the most interesting…”

Professor Rourke was cut short as the room was suddenly plunged into complete darkness.

Someone screamed and Sara could not tell who was responsible in the blackened room.

“Keep calm folks,” Professor Rourke’s calming voice rang out.

“What’s going on?” Molly whimpered.

“It’s just the lights Molly,” Professor Rourke answered. “Maybe the storm blew down the power lines.”

“Maybe its Eddie,” Barry said in a low worried tone.

“I’m sure that it’s just the storm,” Sara said crossly, not wanting Molly to be upset or herself for that matter.

“Hang on, I’ve got a torch in here somewhere,” Molly said followed by a rustling in her bag. A thin stream of light suddenly illuminated her in the darkness. “I keep it for, you know…” she shrugged, “When it gets dark,”

“Good for you Molly,” Professor Rourke said strongly. “Pass me the torch and I’ll lead us down and out,” he said, effortlessly taking charge.

Sara followed him instinctively as though it was Randolph speaking from beyond the grave. She took Molly’s hand. Lacey came next and then Barry brought up the rear and the four of them followed Professor Rourke through the classroom door and out into the dark library.

The long narrow room was almost pitch black. There were no illuminations of any kind and the windows had blinds to guard the books against the daytime sun.

“I don’t like this,” Lacey whispered, somehow feeling that the environment still merited hushed voices. “What if it is Eddie? What if he’s messing around trying to scare us?”

“I’m sure that it’s nothing of the sort,” Barry said from behind. “And even if it was, what’s a little darkness going to achieve?” he snorted.

They all reached the stairs and looked down over the walkway into the black atrium below. There were no lights of any kind and the only gloomy light came from the night outside. Sara could hear the wind whipping rain viciously against the glass. The storm seemed to be intensifying and the moonlight was covered by thick black clouds.

“I don’t like this,” Molly whimpered.

“Oh shit!” Lacey suddenly exclaimed.

“What, WHAT!” Molly demanded.

“Calm down scaredy-pants,” Lacey snapped, “I just forgot my bag, it’s got my wallet and…, other stuff”

“Just leave it,” Sara insisted.

“Not a chance, I’ll just be a second,” and with that Lacey was already running back to the classroom.

“Should we wait?” Sara asked Professor Rourke.

“Wait here and I’ll go with her, whatever is happening you are all still my responsibility,” Professor Rourke said turning and following Lacey’s trail.

Sara watched the dark library as first Lacey went through the doors before she was followed by Professor Rourke.

A bloodcurdling scream shattered the air and mashed their collective thoughts into one single terrified mind.

Sara fought the rising tide of panic that threatened to overwhelm her. The scream had been high pitched and almost certainly female in origin. Lacey had run back to the library and the scream appeared to come from that general direction. Her feet felt welded to the floor and Molly’s grip on her hand had tightened to the point of painfulness, but she was grateful for the touch.

It seemed like an age before Professor Rourke suddenly reappeared back through the double doors.

“Where’s Lacey Professor Rourke?” Sara asked nervously.

“I couldn’t find her, the library is pitch black in there. I checked our classroom but she wasn’t there,” he replied a little shakily.

“What do you mean she wasn’t there?” Sara demanded. “You followed her in, she must be there. Who the hell was screaming?”

“I don’t know what to tell you Sara,” Professor Rourke responded somewhat testily. “She isn’t in there. I thought the scream came from out here somewhere. The acoustics in this place make any loud noises echo around the building.”

“What are we going to do?” Molly whined.

“Let’s not panic guys,” Professor Rourke said steadily, “All we’ve got here is a power cut, nothing more.”

“Dammit let’s just go already,” Barry snapped irritably.

“Um, Professor?” Molly suddenly whispered, “I’ve never heard of a power cut that only affects one building.”

Sara turned around and followed Molly’s gaze that was staring out of a large window to the streets outside. The houses sparkled and twinkled with warm glowing lights that kept the occupants safe against the raging dark and stormy night.

“OK, let’s not panic,” Professor Rourke reiterated, this time a little more unsure.

“Seems like a good time to me,” Barry quipped nervously.

“What do we do?” Molly panicked.

Sara had no idea and hoped for Professor Rourke to step up and take control - much like Randolph would have done in a similar position - but the teacher stood rooted to the spot.