The Butcher in the Hills

This a short excerpt from my book which is still under work by the same name. It defines the last kill of a serial killer before being arrested

The Butcher in the Hills

By Sachit Ganla

 

The cold wind blew through the night creating a shiver amongst the few passing by. As the night grew darker even the few the disappeared. This was common on Templeton Street in Lansboro. Crime was a common feature here. Addicts lay in the alleyways, muggers on the prowl for fresh victims to loot and police patrols were uncommon.

There lay our protagonist, the serial killer who terrorized the city in the past few months. He wasn’t like the previous ones, Jack the Ripper who preyed on prostitutes, Luis Garavito who chose young boys or Donald Gaskins who chose hitchhikers. He chose anyone who came across, fair and kind was his method but he knew how to lure each and every one of them. The papers called him the Butcher of the Hills, his method of killing was one where he would keep his victims alive and cut em up piece by piece until they gave out. He had killed 73 and 74^th would be his last one. This is not because the urge to kill had gone; he had committed a grave mistake. He had let his last to be victim to escape. She saw his face and within few days, his posters were around the city. She heard his last name, Robbins and the police raided his workplace, his house and frozen all his accounts.

All he had was his knife, the trusty large one which had claimed 73 lives. There he stood waiting in the dark for the last victim to appear; He thought to himself standing in the dark. He knew what the media would call him, he knew how the jury would chew him out but in his mind he was right.

“I cannot live an empty life; what is life without the glowing heat of excitement, without the thrill of what’s to come. Everyone has their own kick, this was his no amount of alcohol, nicotine and narcotic could sate the beast within. I desire so much more, killing and watching them scream through the cloth gave me more euphoria than any drug ever would”.

“I began preying first at the junkies, they were easy buy some heroin and lead them my car by promising them more at home, most of them agreed; after that well even God couldn’t help save them from their fate. I would never take them home; I would take them to the hills at the outskirts. There was my late father’s cabin. Its windows blacked and screaming was never a problem because who would hear them?”

“Once they entered I would knock them out, a strong blow to their head, and then tie them up to the table to begin the process. The cuts would be slow at first and then as the days passed as I would visit them the cuts would deeper and more toes and fingers lost. No one would last more than three days; you can call it my weekend getaway”.

“I began to be more confident after the 10^th victim, now I used my charm to prey on women of my age. I would go to bars and charm them. Take them home. Again for them home was the cabin and the same process would continue. I would stay away from children, I always liked them. I could never kill a child like the others before me”.

“Junkies, women and now men, the list began to grow. Men were the easiest, wear a nice suit, act like you have the right credentials. My introduction in such cases would be Mark Andrews working at the largest multinational in the country and would invite them to drop off their resumes at the cabin. I had fake identity card as well, which had the recruitment cell printed. Then make tea or coffee and invite them in and as they would move into the kitchen, I would knock them out. The same process would begin again”.

“My mistake? Overconfidence; I let the last one escape. The day was December 15^th; small group hikers had come. They were in search of a camping site and came across the cabin and heard the screams of the women stuck inside, she was able to spit the cloth and they called the police. I was at work when I saw the news and I realized then the game was over. If I left town I would have to cautious, it wouldn’t be easy to kill again so I decided that after another victim I would surrender, in prison I could still kill, who cares? I kill in prison my sentence would just get extended like the Brazilian Pedro”.

Then he broke from his thought as he saw a junkie lying on the street. He still had no place to go, the cabin and his home was no longer accessible. So he found a house to squat in, the family would not return till the New Year and it would be the perfect place to kill. The house was close by and the car was still his. He had heroin in his pocket and began to talk to the junkie was still high.

“Hi my name Mark Robbins, I am just like you, addicted. I have more”

The junkie replied “Err, you have? I have no money to pay”

“There is no need of that” he replied.

“I met you once, you wouldn’t remember, at the shelter. It was a few months back. You were high; you wouldn’t remember that why I gave you my introduction, I know Molly. I bought from her just a few days back and I like to share”.

“You know Molly? She always had the best product in the town” said the Junkie

“Come with me, we can share the product and then you can stay the night, I have food and a spare bed, you can leave in the morning” Robbins persuaded.

Robbins picked him up placed him the car and drove towards the house. He parked right in the front of the house. No one was up, it was 2am. The kill had to quick, soon the car would be discovered and he arrested. He entered the back door which was broken and led him to the basement. There had already placed a cloth stained in chloroform which he quickly placed on his victim mouth. He was out in seconds.

The junkie awoke a few hours later and lay on the table, he began realize that all of it was a lie and tried to scream with the cloth in his mouth. He tried to break lose but to no avail, this time he would make no mistakes; the ropes were tied tight, the cloth pushed in as deep as it could go.

Robbins then whispered “Don’t struggle, it just makes it worse. It is more painless if you just accept your fate. You have an honor, the last victim before I surrender. Of course there will be many more. You are the last one I choose fairly, and then it comes down male prisoners guilty of their crimes. I lose my charm then, the one of fair selection”.

“So tell me where should I start, personally I like the toes, then the fingers and then the tongue. I can’t remove your tongue now though. It was easier then when no one would hear them scream in the woods. Then it’s the hands, legs and finally the head. I would make sure they wouldn’t bleed out. I would bandage their arms and what remained of their legs and keep them alive”. Then was the head”.

“Now I think we start with your fingers, then toes and then the head. I can’t take the pleasure of three days; you have the easiest death, within a few hours your misery will be over. This would be mercy unknown to my previous victims. I’ve left the car outside as visible by day and by the time dawn hits the city, they will come for me”.

Robbins then began his process, he began to cut the fingers, toes and the junkie screamed but no one could hear him. How could they, if Robbins children and wife were asleep on the first floor of the house, they wouldn’t also.

Soon blood began to pool in sections of the room, spatters across the walls and junkie was sweating in pain. Robbins wanted his tongue; otherwise the process wouldn’t be complete. He opened the cloth and the junkie couldn’t even scream anymore, he had lost any hope survival. Slowly he cut it out and then said

“Now all that remains is the last step, the head. You will be awake soon, free from the pain and suffering”

He carried a machete, it was in his car. Quiet and strong enough to cut off a person’s head within seconds. He returned and then with one quick blow the junkie was dead. He began now to search his belongings. Robbins kept syringes of the junkies he had killed, any jewelry of female victims and the watches of the male victims. He had kept them as trophies in his black box engraved M.R.

He went up quietly and called 911 and informed them of the car. Soon they would take him away. He walked to the entrance and waited for the cops to come. They came; and soon as they did, he dropped his weapons, fell to his knees, kept his hands above his head and he was handcuffed and led into the car. 

This was a big win for the police as now there would no more victims. As they drove, Robbins glanced back towards the house for one last look and clutched to the syringe he had hidden in his pocket; The last trophy he would ever get from outside.

Then he smiled, as he knew that the junkie wouldn’t be his last.

Author's Note

ignore a few mistakes if i've made. Let me know how it can be improved further