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Metronomeby Tom Hanslits
Copyright 2003 All rights reserved
In an adjacent wing to the maximum-security prison, attached by five high security barriers and twenty armed guards, a select group of mass murderers and various other criminals resided in the psych ward for the criminally insane. Dr. Collins had been assigned to test and evaluate these special prisoners and delve into their psyche. He ha d met with relative success with all of them, but one. Matthew was a particularly frustrating case and one of the more horrific of the murderers ensconced in the small cells that served as their permanent homes.
The sterile odor often associated with a laboratory assailed Matthew's nostrils as he sluggishly opened his eyes. It seemed an eternity while he struggled against the hated drugs. By sheer force of will, he regained consciousness ahead of schedule. Fluorescent lighting forced him to squint as he listened to the collective noises that swirled around him. There was a flurry of activity behind him. Judging from the sound their shoes made against the terrazzo floor, there were only two people. The doctor and his faithful nurse. However, they were very busy, too busy to realize that he was almost fully awake.
Why do they persist in keeping me so heavily drugged? I'm not mad; I don't need this continual assault on my mental faculties. Before they discovered me, I was the perfect killing machine. I was like a spider... yes I remember now. I was tending my territory with ruthless efficiency. But that seems so long ago. Long before they brought me here. Long before I met "IT".
"He's coming around Doctor," said the nurse anxiously. She was alarmed to find him awake. The administered dosage should have caused him to sleep for at least another hour. Matthew smiled inwardly. It was these small victories that reinforced his sense of superiority over his captors. Still the perfect killing machine... the spider.
Removing a penlight from her uniform, she pulled back his eyelids and shined the light directly in his left eye first, then the right. It was always the same routine. She's a functionary incapable of variation, a pathetic creature of habit. These were Matthew's last thoughts, as the light seemed to pierce directly to his brain. It caused the acid to churn violently in his stomach. Nausea swept over him.
Bitch! You'll be the first to die when it's time for me to leave. I'll savor every delectable moment as I escort you painfully from this life into the waiting arms of death. Matthew's hand brushed the cool steel of the bed rail as she plodded through her examination. An involuntary shudder of pleasure rippled deliciously through his body as he momentarily imagined that he'd found his knife. It had become an extension of himself. A cold steel weapon of destruction in his crusade to rid the world of those he deemed unwanted and a burden on society. They had deprived him of it for so long now. He ached with yearning for the feel of it in his hand once more. The pleasure from his memories concentrated in his loins and he became aroused immediately. A fact not lost to the nurse's ritual examination.
Letting the rage slip away; he drifted back to a time before here, before "IT." Flexing his fingers, he wrapped them delicately around the bed rail. In his mind, he was holding his knife once more, recalling the first moment he conceived the design. It would take several months before he could locate the right steel. He spent countless hours on research about the numerous varieties of stainless steel. Settling on 316L, a surgical quality, he found a short length of one-inch plate stock at a small supply house out west. Traveling there over a weekend, he made the purchase under an assumed name and with a fictitious address. No one even looked at him, or even cared. But it never hurt to be overly cautious. A spider waits until the precise moment to strike. It may rush up to the prey once snared in its' web, but it always waits to strike the killing blow.
Letting a smile cross his lips, Matthew remembered carefully fashioning it to resemble the long curved fangs of a tarantula. He copied the elegantly graceful curve to perfection. It took almost three full months of filing and polishing the steel to complete his weapon. When he was finished, it was nearly twelve inches long. Instead of round, he made the handle and blade oval, to accommodate a groove the length of the inner curve of his knife, his fang, his scepter of death.
Matthews plan was to daub poison, a neurotoxin, along the groove to paralyze his victims. There was no hilt, only indentations in the handle for his fingers. His thumb fit comfortably in hollow on the end of the handle. It afforded maximum pressure with each thrust, combined with minimal effort. This was a weapon for piercing deeply, repeatedly, not amateurish slashing. Matthew had even made a form-fitting sheath from hand stitched leather and lined with deep purple velvet. There was enough leather left over to fashion a bag for the vile of poison.
His breathing became rapid as he recalled the touch of the cold steel. It never ceased to amaze him how the blade warmed as he held it, becoming part of him, almost sensing the anticipation while waiting for the precise moment to strike. It warmed more quickly once it entered a body. There could be no real pleasure in brutally assaulting the prey. You needed to be patient and watch the eyes and listen to the labored breathing as the body succumbed to the poison and lost all function. The poison must be administered over and over again; inserting the knife and feeling the curve of it slide into the flesh repeatedly, releasing its lethal toxin each time. There was always the question "Why?" on his victim's lips, but they couldn't speak.
The front of his pants became wet and the nurse dropped her tray when she noticed the spreading moisture.
"Matthew? Can you hear me Matthew?" It was the doctor, called from his distraction at the commotion caused by the nurse.
Opening his eyes, Matthew stared defiantly at the doctor. "I can hear you just fine."
"What's the meaning of this? What's going on in that head of yours? You've ejaculated into your pants."
"Oh, it's nothing Doc." Matthew's voice took on a malevolent, yet tranquil, quality as he continued. "I was just thinking about how good it would feel to have my hands wrapped around your stinking neck." Then more innocently he added, "And as you can see, I just couldn't help myself. You're the Doctor, you do understand don't you?"
"We've discussed your antagonistic attitude before, Matthew. You'll never make any progress if you persist in fighting me this way."
"Fighting you Doc? You've got me all wrong." Matthew smiled and then added, "You insist that I'm mad, yet you treat me as if I'm sane. You're the one working at opposing realities. You better set your priorities straight before you dare conclude that the truth I speak is fighting you at the very least and madness at the very most."
Frustrated at Matthew's ability to twist a conversation away from the real point, Dr. Collins buzzed for the orderlies. "I'm sending you back to your cell Matthew. Until you cease this antagonistic attitude of yours, I'll be forced to continue the drug therapy indefinitely." He knew it was a lie, but he needed to force Matthews hand. The ploy worked as he watched panic sweep Matthew's body. He saw him strain violently against the straps binding him to the bed.
"Please don't send me back there Doc! I'm begging you. IT's there... waiting patiently for my return. This is the only place I can escape IT."
"Matthew, we've had this discussion before. In fact, we've had this discussion every time we've met for the last six months."
"I know Doc, but IT waits. I'm not mad," he pleaded. "IT waits for me. IT waits for us all. IT tells me all the time. I've told you Doc... Why won't you listen?"
Dr. Collins ignored him. He was tired of the same old story.
"IT will make you suffer for your arrogance," threatened Matthew. "You just don't know how big a mistake this is."
"It's time to leave now Matthew," said Dr. Collins as he heard the orderlies enter the hall outside the room. Two massive men appeared at the bedside and started to wheel Matthew from the room. Receiving last minute instructions, they paused only long enough to acknowledge that they understood. From the hall, the nurse and doctor could hear Matthew pleading to be taken anywhere but his cell. The cries for mercy fell on deaf ears and eventually faded away. Two other orderlies of similar build and disposition met them in front of Matthew's cell. They were quiet and efficient. There was no margin for error when dealing with a patient of Matthew's background. He was returned to his cell without incident.
"Matthew? Are you awake? It's no use pretending, I can wait forever, but you can't."
"What do you want with me? Why don't you leave me alone?" Matthew screamed.
"You know what I want Matthew. I want your soul."
"I'm not disposed to give it up just yet. Leave me alone." He was openly belligerent.
"Matthew, Matthew... is that any way to treat me?"
"I don't even know who you are." Matthew began to sweat and curled into a fetal position in the corner of his cell. He continued to press roughly into the corner to try and distance himself from the door and what lay beyond. His shoulder scrapped and bruised against the concrete, but Matthew ignored the pain and pressed himself even tighter into the corner.
"You know who I am. I'm always on the wall just outside of your cell. I never leave. I never sleep. Matthew, you see me all of the time. Time... now that's funny. It is funny isn't it Matthew?" It's question was menacing and carried a lethal warning.
"Please..." cried Matthew. "I'm not ready. There's much more work to be done. There are so many useless, unwanted, unloved people out there. They must be eliminated. I must remove the burden they cause on society. I must continue my work."
"Matthew? Can you hear me?"
"I can hear you. You're constant, unwavering and unrelenting. Your tick, tick, ticks. It's like a metronome. You count out the seconds of my life, a malevolent timekeeper. That's what you do, isn't it? You measure the moments lost and subtract them from the good works I've already done. When I've lost more than I've gained, you will take my soul and I will never be able to continue my work."
"We've been over this before Matthew; when I stop ticking, your time will be used up. You won't be able to continue because you'll be dead."
"Nooooo!" wailed Matthew. "I must continue."
"Then I too must continue Matthew." If you persist in ignoring me, fighting me; then you leave me no other recourse."
"What's that?" sobbed Matthew.
"I must stop ticking."
"Please..."
"You've made too much noise Matthew. They're coming and they look very angry." Panicked, Matthew stared at his cell door, paralyzed with fear and the knowledge of what they would do to him when they arrived. "You better return to your bed before they arrive. You know what they'll do if they find you on the floor. Hurry Matthew. They're almost at the door."
The two guards arrived at Matthew's cell only moments later. The head guard turned to check the clock on the wall and slurred, "It's only ten and he's raving like a maniac. I hate this son-of-a-bitch. After the trial, they should have taken him straight from the courtroom and gassed him."
The second guard only nodded in silent response. Turning back to the door, he slid open the metal plate covering the viewing window. He slammed the intercom button and hissed, "What the hell are you doing in there?" The speaker next to the window crackled and sputtered, but Matthew understood every word by the tone in his voice.
"I'm fine. Leave me alone."
"What?" screamed the guard. "Leave you alone?"
"I'm sorry. Really... I'm all right." Matthew's tone was conciliatory. "I won't be needing your help."
"You won't be needing my help? I should come in there and kick the living shit out of you, you fucking perverted little toad. Shut up and don't disturb me or any of the other guests or you'll find yourself bound and gagged," raged the guard. "You know what drugs they'll give you, don't you? You don't like the drugs, do you shit head?"
Nausea swept over him, but he remained calm. "No... please. I'm all right." He did his best to sit up straight and smile, even though his insides were twisting and his brain burned with a fire fueled by his panic. Still, he managed to look directly at the observation window. The silence that followed suspended time for an eternity. Finally the metal plate slammed with an audible crack. The hiss and crackle of the speaker discontinued.
"They're leaving Matthew. You did a fine acting job. There won't be any drugs tonight. You'll be able to talk with me all night long. Won't that be fun?"
Matthew wrapped his pillow around his head and cried into it to muffle the sound. But nothing could stop IT. He drew his legs up into a fetal position again and listened. Tick. Tick. Tick.
---
"Nurse, there was an episode with Matthew last night at ten. Did you get any additional details?"
"You have everything there Dr. Collins. The guard was off duty at seven. He left the report in the slot. There was no need for medication and Matthew remained quiet for the rest of the night. After questioning the supervisor, there was no new information to be added."
"Thank you," said Collins, still distracted by the report.
"Erin?"
"Yes, Dr. Collins."
"How long have we worked together?"
"I don't know. Maybe three years... could be four. Why?"
"Matthew really disturbs me. We've never encountered a case like this before. Other than his delusions about that blasted wall clock, he seems quite rational and somewhat normal. Now he insists that when the clock stops ticking, his life will be over. I need to understand him and why this new delusion has surfaced. I just can't find a way into his head."
"He resists all attempts to cooperate with you," she answered. "He could be using the clock as a way of avoiding the reality of what he's done. He is, after all, a premeditated mass murderer. Perhaps we should remove the clock. If he can't converse with it, he can't use it to evade your therapy."
"That's very insightful Erin. You should have continued your education. You'd make a damn fine doctor."
Blushing a bit, Erin replied, "Thank you Doctor. That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said about my work. While we're on the subject, may I say something about Matthew?"
"Go ahead."
"Matthew frightens me. He's restrained when we see him, but he makes my skin crawl. You saw the dampness on his trousers yesterday."
"Yes, it was unsettling."
"Doctor," she continued. "I didn't buy that story about him having his hands around your neck. It doesn't fit his killing profile. You've seen that God-awful weapon that he made. He paralyzed people and then, while they were still alive, he wrapped them in silk cloth and stored them in garages or basements where they eventually died." She began to shake uncontrollably. "He's a monster."
Putting an arm around her shoulder he guided her to chair where he helped her to sit. "Don't dwell on the details Erin," he comforted.
"I think he was imagining that he was killing me when he got his erection and ejaculated." Pausing to regain her composure, she continued, "Did you see that wicked smile on his face when I dropped my tray?"
"No I didn't. I had my back turned when I heard the crash. When I turned around, you were bending to pick up your tray. That movement grabbed my attention. I only noticed Matthew slightly. When I saw that he was securely bound, I returned my attention to you. I wanted to be sure that you were all right."
"I'm sorry Doctor. I just can't keep myself together when I'm near that man. If you wish to replace me, I'll understand. I'd almost welcome it."
"Enough of that talk. You're a professional. You need to detach yourself from what he's done. You can't dwell on it or it will drive you crazy. Let's try a new tactic. We'll install observation cameras in his cell and monitor him that way. His resistance might diminish if we leave him alone for a while."
"Do you think the warden will go along with it?"
"I've already got the approval. I spoke with him last week, but was unsure when I should try to install the cameras. My plan will be to observe only and then we can analyze any behavioral patterns that we can use and ultimately develop a new therapy protocol."
---
"Matthew? Can you hear me?" snapped and crackled the voice from the intercom. I know you're awake."
Remaining perfectly still, Matthew ignored the voice. It had been a month since they came for him. He was enjoying his drug free life. Keeping his breathing slow, he feigned sleep.
"Matthew. It's Dr. Collins. I've come to talk with you."
Even through the distortion of the cheap speaker, he'd heard every word and had reacted. Dr. Collins saw Matthew's body tense and become rigid.
"I know you can hear me Matthew. I only wish to speak with you. There won't be any drugs."
Matthew turned on his bed and faced the window. He stared intently, hoping to see through the one-way glass. He was trying to figure out their game when IT called to him. "They're all out here Matthew. They don't have any carts or the bed with them. I believe that they tell truth."
"How would you know? You haven't even spoken to me in two weeks."
"Did you miss me Matthew? I had things to do. I can't be with you all the time."
"It's never stopped you before..."
"Before what Matthew?"
"Before they quit giving me drugs."
"Matthew. We've had this discussion many times. Don't make me stop counting. You know what that means."
"Guard, can you stop the clock?"
"What do you mean Doc?"
"Just what I asked. Can you stop the clock?"
"Well I guess so. I'd have to find the circuit breaker, but sure Doc, I can stop the clock."
"Then do it... And be quick about it."
The guard rushed off to the utility closet and fumbled for the keys to unlock the several different security doors that protected the breaker panel. Once in the panel he found the breaker for the hall outlets and wall lights. Flipping it off left only the ceiling lights on.
"Is that what you want Doc?" he asked as he returned to his post next to the door.
"The wall lights might have been left on, but this will do."
"Sorry, Doc. The outlets and wall lights are all on the same circuit. You get all or nothing."
"Let's get Matthew out here in ten minutes. I want him to see that the clock is stopped and has been for ten minutes, and he'll have to give up the delusion about the clock." Turning back to the door, he keyed the speaker, "Matthew? Would you like to come out and join me in the lounge for some conversation?"
I've never been to the lounge. I'd like that very much, he thought. "Sure Doc," he answered to the speaker, "I'd like that a lot."
"Okay then Matthew. We'll be back in ten minutes. It's eleven now. You'll have to be secured, but you won't be placed on a bed or taken anywhere but the lounge."
"Thank you Doc. I'll be ready."
---
"What do you think?"
Silence.
"Can you here me you bastard? Do they intend to harm me?"
Silence.
"I hate you. I hate you. I hate you."
Silence.
---
"We'll know how successful we've been in ten more minutes. He seems to be fine," commented Dr. Collins.
Erin sat staring at the screen in silence. She enjoyed the observation room more than the direct therapy. It had been a very stress free thirty days. This was the moment that she dreaded. Maybe she was over-reacting, but her intuition told her that she was right.
"Come on. It's time to go." Dr. Collins extended a hand to help her up. Dr. Collins walked confidently towards the cell; Erin fell behind, reluctant to reach the destination. The cell door opened slowly. Matthew sat at the edge of his bed, wrapped in a straight jacket. He smiled at his visitors, but a look of mistrust remained visible across his tight lips.
"Let's go to the lounge Matthew," said Dr. Collins.
"Okay Doc," answered Matthew, eyes darting from one face to the next, searching for any sign of betrayal.
Matthew, standing more quickly than had been anticipated caused Dr. Collins to jump back. The guards moved in, but were waved off. "I'm sorry Matthew. You startled me. We can go now." Escorting Matthew through the door was difficult with so many people in the small cell. They all exited to give Matthew a chance to walk out on his own. He emerged with a sense of victory. He'd suffered countless indignities and finally, after almost a year of struggle, he had won the respect he deserved. This was the goal he sought. They recognized his superiority and were softening their attitude about his work. Soon he would be free to continue, the end was near.
A shriek lodged in his throat as he spied the clock, silent, unmoving. The muffled sound gurgled out as he collapsed, instantly dead, smashing his head onto the concrete floor. Matthew's terror was eternally frozen on his face, mouth open, and eyes wide and bulging. The look was grotesque. With his fingers still on Matthew's neck, searching for a pulse, Dr. Collins checked his watch and asked the guard to report the time of death. The other guard had already left to get a gurney.
Erin covered her mouth at the shock. Everyone thought that she was crying, but she did this to stifle her laughter. She had found the relief that she needed. This was her escape from the torment that Matthew brought her.
Once the body was removed, the process of cleaning out the cell and filing reports had begun. Soon the whole incident would be a case study tucked away in a filing cabinet until a curious doctor or student wished to read the history of Matthew's treatment.
"Erin, how long has Frank been a patient?"
"About a year Dr. Collins. He came to us a month after we lost Matthew. Why?"
"There's something vaguely familiar about him. I just can't put my finger on it. Well it doesn't matter right now. It'll come to me sooner or later. I'll see you on Monday Erin. You have a good weekend. Doing anything special?"
"Chris and I are going to take the kids to the lake. We bought a little cabin last month and the weather will be perfect. We should have lots of fun."
"I'm going to have to visit you now that you have a cabin."
"Mooch."
"Something like that. See you Monday," he laughed.
---
In the silence of the night, when even small sounds echoed thunderously down the corridors, a voice called out. The sheer intensity shattered the stillness.
"Frank? Are you awake? It's no use pretending, I can wait forever, but you can't."
"What do you want with me? Why don't you leave me alone?" Frank screamed.
"You know what I want..."
fini