Dark Corners - Twelve Tales of Terror (4 page)

“
Tough
break for old wheezy. What did he do?”

“
He
only lived a mile or so from the train tracks. He waited for the
eleven o’clock train and jumped in front of it as it passed.”

“
Not a bad way to go. I wonder if he felt it,”
Roberts mused.

“
I
know there wasn’t much left to identify him by. Quite a mess by
all accounts.”

“
I
bet it made the little nose job I gave him seem like a paper cut.”

“
Indeed.”
Elgin offered another thin smile and continued.

“
We’re
becoming sidetracked… I’m aware of the time constraints,
so let us continue.”

Roberts
nodded. And why not? He couldn’t put his finger on the reason
why, but he liked this kid. And keeping his mind occupied meant he
didn’t have to think about the clock, relentlessly ticking away
towards the end of his life.

“
Ok,
Kid. You go ahead and ask your questions, and I’ll answer them
if I can.”

Elgin
nodded curtly and closed the folder that had been open on his knees.
Both men were quiet, and for a moment there was only the dull growl
of the air conditioning unit that ran the length of the hallway.
Eventually Elgin continued.

“
You
said you liked to kill. Has that always been the case?”

“
I
think so. I mean, I had thought about it without really
knowing
I was thinking about it, if you know what I mean. I think it was
always there, buried and waiting for me to find it.”

“
And
what happened when you found it?”

Roberts
thought for a moment, then looked Elgin in the eye. His gaze was met
fearlessly.

“
I
think it found me, if that makes any sense. I always suspected there
was something different about me, but I didn’t know what it
was, not really until it happened.”

“
Are
you talking about the first kill?”

Roberts
nodded, surprised just how good it felt to get it off his chest.

“
Yes.
Would it surprise you to know I was just a boy when it happened?”

“
Not
really. Most serial murderers start off at an early age.”

“You
can probably tell by my appearance that I’m not native to the
United States.”

“
No,”
replied Elgin with a small smile. “You were raised in southern
Italy, if my research here is correct.”

“
I
was born in Taranto,” nodded Roberts. “But raised is
hardly the word I would use.”

“
You
had a troubled childhood?”

“
Actually
no—more an ignored one. I was the youngest of six
siblings—three brothers and two sisters. You could say I was
the runt of the litter. I suppose they loved me in their own way, but
if its affection that you are talking about, then no. There wasn’t
any that I remember. My father was born into money and we owned a
small Vineyard that saw us live comfortably. Not rich, you
understand, but we did well enough. My memories of him are few. I
remember he was a big man, with large workers hands and a booming
voice. He ruled the house with an iron fist, but as he was often away
from the house working, it was my mother who would hand out the
punishments. She was unpredictable, and her moods would swing from
placid calm to fierce rage in an instant. We knew not to push her,
but either because I wanted to test the limits, or more likely
because I wanted attention, I pushed. I pushed and pushed, and by the
time I was nine I had already started to become distant from my
family.”

“
Did
you have friends?”

“
No.
I never understood the reason why people crave companionship from
others. Even now, I still find it a strange concept. Not that I was
unhappy. I liked being by myself. I used to wander the fields
surrounding our vineyard. I would walk for miles just thinking,
trying to make sense of the world. I think even then I was searching
for something, looking for anything to make me feel alive.”

“
Killing?”

“
No.
Not yet. I discovered death. The simplicity of it—the finality.
The opinion I formed as a child is still the one I have today, if you
can believe that. See, nature has it right. The human species is too
concerned with doing what it deems to be the
right
thing
, and as a result, we often die
miserable and unfulfilled. I think we have it wrong though. I think
we need to look to nature.”

“
In
what way?”

“
Well
to be blunt, Mr. Elgin, nature doesn’t fuck around. Take any
species apart from our own and you will see it. They kill to survive,
they kill to protect. And who knows, maybe they even kill because
they enjoy it. I like that idea. I think we as a species, humans I
mean, have that inherent desire to shrug off the pressures of society
and just get back to basics. We are savage creatures, Mr. Elgin. When
the mood takes us, and we allow that primal instinct to take over, we
can be deadly.”

Roberts
paused for a moment, rubbing his stubble-covered cheeks thoughtfully.

“
I
first killed when I was ten years old. The seed had been planted a
year before, and the only reason for the delay was that opportunity
had not presented itself. That word is the serial killer’s only
companion, Mr. Elgin.
Opportunity
.
It happened whilst I was out on one of my long, directionless walks.
I was maybe a mile and a half away from the vineyard, by the narrow
creek which cut across the boundary of our land. I wasn’t doing
anything out there in particular, just wandering around, trying to
keep myself occupied. It was a hot day and I was enjoying the heat on
my back and the peace of the water as it gurgled past me, when I
heard a pained whimpering noise from somewhere ahead. The creek
opened up a little farther downstream, and there was a small sandy
bank cut away from the dirt. There were two dogs down by the water.
They were skeletal and mangy, covered in scars both old and new. One
was on its side, its tongue lolling out of its mouth as it stared
blankly ahead with milky, cataract eyes. The other was beside it, its
jaws clamped around the throat of its opponent. I drew breath and
watched in fascination from the edge of the water. It was nature at
its purest. Life versus death. Strong versus weak. I watched the dog
with the cataracts die. I watched the light fade from its eyes, and
its breathing slow and then finally stop. You know what the best
thing was? When it was all over, the other dog just stood and walked
away. It hadn’t killed for food, or for survival. It had killed
for fun.”

“
And
that set you off on your own journey?”

“
I
wouldn’t say that. As I already mentioned, I think it was
always within me. But it planted a seed. And over the next year, that
seed grew, until I took my first tentative step.”

“
Seed?”
enquired Elgin.

Roberts
nodded.

“
I
thought a lot about that dog in the following weeks. I think I knew
on some level then that I would make a good killer, and like that
dog, I would do it for my own enjoyment. Maybe it wouldn’t have
come to the forefront so early in my life if my childhood hadn’t
been so lonely, but when those who are meant to love you neglect you,
it gives someone—even a boy—time to think. And I thought
about it a lot. I suppose it was just a question of waiting for that
golden opportunity.”

“
And
that first kill. Tell me about that.”

Roberts
hesitated, watching Elgin, who looked back with a neutral, impossible
to read face.

“
As
much as I’m enjoying getting this off my chest, Mr. Elgin, you
still haven’t told me anything about this company you
represent.”

If
Elgin was flustered, he didn’t show it. He simply offered that
oily, thin smile, and regarded Roberts with his cool gaze. For some
reason, Roberts shuddered. Elgin finally spoke, keeping his tone
neutral and conversational.

“
I
appreciate your concern, Mr. Roberts, and I can assure you that I
will explain in full when the time is right.”

“
Now
seems like a good time to me. Tomorrow definitely wouldn’t
work— I can tell you that, Mr. Elgin.”

Roberts
chuckled at his own joke, but Elgin’s face remained impassive.
He leaned forward then, his face close to the bars. He gestured to
Roberts to come closer, and as he did, he could smell the expensive
cologne on Elgin’s skin. Elgin spoke in a whisper—his
eyes fierce and serious.

“
What
if I told you that you didn’t have to die here today?”

Roberts
chuckled, but wondered why he felt so uncomfortable; even a little
afraid.

“
Pardon
my French, but I would tell you you’re out of your fucking
mind, Mr. Elgin.”

Elgin
continued on, still wearing his lizard-like smile.

“
Perhaps
I am. But in the end, what do you really have to lose?”

Roberts
had no answer, and like a great salesman, Elgin kept running with it.

“
I
can offer you something, Mr. Roberts. Something you would not only
excel at, but also enjoy immensely. And that’s just the job
itself…”

Elgin
tilted his head slightly, which only intensified the reptilian mask
that was his face.

“
There
are benefits. Everyone knows the best jobs have good fringe benefits,
and if you will pardon
my
French, Mr. Roberts, the fringe benefits of this job will
blow
your fucking mind
.”

He
leaned back in his chair, and the spell was broken. Lizard face was
gone. He was just plain old Elgin, in his snazzy black suit with a
neutral look on his face. Roberts wondered why he was more afraid of
Elgin than he was of his impending death. He licked his lips, which
were suddenly dry, and was determined not to appear as flustered as
he actually was.

“
Ok,
Elgin. I’ll play along. But if you’re fucking with me, I
swear I’ll add you to my tally before they stick that damn
needle in me.”

Elgin
nodded but appeared completely unconcerned. It didn’t help
Roberts’ feeling of uneasiness.
He’s
in control,
Roberts thought distantly as he
composed himself.
He’s in control and
knows I’ll do as I’m told, because he’s right. I
have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

“
I’ll
talk a little more, if that’s what it will take. But it goes
both ways. I want answers too.”

“
I
appreciate that. Please, do continue.”

“
In the Spring of nineteen eighty-three, I killed
my brother, Alessio. The two of us had been sent out to the old well
on the border of our property to fetch some water. We had running
water in the house of course, but my father liked giving us jobs to
do so we would be kept busy. Alessio was three years older than
myself, but I was already taller than him by a couple of inches. He
hated that. Alessio was always the apple of my mother’s eye,
and although he wasn’t the oldest, it seemed he could do no
wrong. For that reason alone, I had a particular bitter hate for him,
which was amplified by my parents indifference towards me. The well
was around a mile and a half from the house, nestled in a dip between
two hills. Over the brow and across a short field of long grasses,
our land ended and became farmland belonging to the Picenzi family.
They had initially claimed ownership of the well, but my father was
adamant that it belonged to us, and after a long legal battle that
cost both families a lot of money, the ruling went in our favor and
the Picenzis were furious. They had since erected a large fence
around the border of their property, and although they were
technically our neighbors, our families would never speak directly
again. The strange thing was that we didn’t even need the well.
I think it must have been a matter of principal, but either way, it
was deemed as ours.

“
Alessio
had been on my case for the entire walk to that damn hole in the
ground. He was preaching about being responsible and not letting the
family down, as if he were a disappointed parent. I reminded him that
he was only thirteen and could keep his shitty opinions to himself.
His eyes had grown wide at my profanity, and I think we would have
come to blows then, had we not arrived at our destination. That well
frightened me; I should lay that out straightaway. I’d seen it
once before when it had been uncovered (my father had installed an
iron grate over it the summer after it was legally made ours). Like
any curious child would, I had peered down, and was horrified that I
couldn’t see the bottom. It smelled of rot, earth, and moss,
and as I dropped a stone down, it echoed back with a deep bloop that
I didn’t like. The walls were smooth and cold to the touch, and
I always thought it was like an inky eye, peering up into the world
from some secret and dark place.

“
Alessio
had the bucket, and I carried the two large containers we were to
fill and store in the barn until our father needed them. The walk had
been tiring, and as I set down the containers, Alessio took off his
shirt and started to slide the iron grate aside from the well. I
didn’t really want to go near it, but he barked at me to help,
and because I didn’t want him to see that I was afraid, I did.
The grate grumbled slowly aside, and with about half of the hole
uncovered, we stopped, leaving enough room to get the bucket down and
do the job. As the sun was directly overhead, I had hoped to see the
bottom and dispel my fear of a never ending hole, but the light
barely penetrated the darkness.