Caleb Martinsen stifled a yawn, taking a sip from his paper cup. Of necessity, he ignored the astringent mahogany bite of the prison's coffee, just grateful for the caffeine it provided. Thinking of the transfer papers lying on his desk at home, his whiskers twitched in distaste. Having only been recently "promoted" -- ha, ha -- to the Supermax unit, Caleb couldn't afford to be anything but totally alert and sharp at all times. No matter how poorly he was sleeping at night. 1
Grassy green eyes darted this way and that, their pupils broadened to sharpened almonds in the poorly-lit hallway. Each cell under Caleb's charge was inspected and dismissed in turn. Caleb's keen feline eyes pierced the gloom easily, noting his counterpart at the far end of the hall. As usual, everyone was present or accounted for -- eleven were present in their cells, the twelfth having been taken for interrogation a few minutes ago. Yep, all's quiet, sir-yes-sir... For now. 2
The cells were arranged into hallways separate from each other, twelve cells and two guards to a hallway -- the ratio of guards to prisoners was relatively high in this prison-within-a-prison, the new man observed. There had been no serious security issues in a long time. Which was in itself a cause for concern. Caleb hoped no one tried to escape, or worse, start a riot, on his watch.3
He thought back to the informative pamphlet he'd received along with his transfer notice. The black cat sighed, wishing he had read the pamphlet before accepting the transfer. If he had known just who he would be working around, he would most likely have remained in his original position. 4
The larger section of the complex, the pamphlet read, was for mentally ill offenders who had not committed murder to receive treatment; it functioned essentially as an asylum. The other section, the one in which Caleb now worked, was much smaller, set aside for the State's mentally ill and most violent serial killers, rapists, and arsonists, those which have not committed Federal crimes but which are too dangerous or unstable for other facilities in the state of Aurumnia. Prisoners who had been condemned to Death Row were also legally required to spend at least one year for evaluation in a State facility such as PCCMF, to make certain that no one with genuine mental disability would be executed. 5
That was un-Constitutional, according to the Allied Vesperigoan States Supreme Court.6
In short, Caleb thought with a sigh, I'm stuck in a small building with the rottenest of Aurumnia's rotten eggs. With no hazard pay. They call this a promotion?7
Caleb cast a furtive glance at his co-worker down the hall, reflecting that the prisoners -- bloody-minded and confrontational as they could be -- weren't even the real problem. As if to illustrate the thought, a fetid torrent of foul, thanatoic invective came pouring in savage glory down one of the three adjacent hallways which connected to Caleb's. It was as if someone had spilled a wine-press filled with grapes of wrath, a bloody oenic abortion. 8
The young guard, with a gut-twinge of reluctance, realized that the outraged curses and screaming were coming from the direction of the interrogation rooms.9
As a cat, Caleb was gifted with keener natural hearing than many races, but his sharp ears weren't necessary to pick up the noise. Even a half-deaf snake could have heard it. He sighed. Modifying his expression to a bland poker face, the cat-man's almond eyes narrowed, flicking toward his co-worker. Caleb wondered how the other man would react to the sound. 10
The other guard, a rat, had a distant, subtle smile on his narrow pointed face. The man's black beady eyes were shut, as if he were imagining just what was going on to cause the racket and enjoying his thoughts.11
Caleb turned away, his nausea now complete. 12
It wasn't the prisoners he minded. It the other guards that gave him nightmares. 13
So what we've done, he thought cynically with a brief, unconscious baring of teeth, is lock up all the beasts and set monsters to guard them. My tax dollars at work.14
From previous experience, he knew the sound issuing from the corridor would not cease for a while. He did his best to close his ears against what must be happening in the so-called "interrogation" room, but knew that, again, he wouldn't be sleeping much tonight.15
Caleb drank. Hot coffee was cold comfort.16
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The cursing went on for almost an hour. After that, it was replaced by wordless screaming in the same voice. When it finally stopped, Caleb felt drawn, shaky, and abused, as if he had been the one tortured. Fortunately, the other guard was too absorbed in his own fantasies to take any notice of Caleb's weakness. The prisoners in their cells, meanwhile, were all doing their best not to acknowledge or inhabit the reality everyone else shared. Beyond that fantasy (and/or hallucinating) was how they usually spent their time, even the most psychotic knew that to draw attention to oneself was to buy a ticket to that same room.18
Finally, after about ten minutes of utter silence, Caleb's sharp ears picked up the scrape of a door, muted incoherencies, and then a clear vocal fragment: "... pinch yer nose shut if ... screechin' ... gag. Wan ... suffocate or ... --ut up?" 19
Caleb pretended with all his might that he had heard nothing. 20
Moments later, two other prison guards appeared in the corridor. Large, powerful specimens, probably two of the biggest screws in PCCMF, Caleb mused. An elephant and a crocodile, muscular and fit even by the impressive standards of their respective races. Caleb, exercising his equally overdeveloped ignorance muscle, managed to not notice the tell-tale condition of their once-neat uniforms.21
Between them they carried a restraining board which currently held this section's Prisoner #12. He was not cursing anymore because his muzzle was tied shut.22
Even though the condemned serial killer's limbs and torso were restrained, his claws capped, and his muzzle tied, the prisoner -- who was a wolverine, built like a Mack truck despite his short stature -- did everything in his power to make the job as difficult for the two guards as possible. His eyes blazed with demonic hatred, his lean form twisting and thrashing as much as possible within the cruelly tightened restraints. 23
This wasn't much. It made no discernible impact on his bearers. The two guards ignored their passenger's efforts, slamming him down inside his cell without bothering to release him. As the elephant and crocodile turned to depart, the rat glanced at his watch. "We're off," he drawled. "I'll send our replacements up." 24
"Do us a favor, newbie," the crocodile chuckled as all three walked past together, nudging Caleb with his elbow.25
Yeah, thanks, assholes, Caleb thought. He knew better than to express his unwillingness, or to try to make the rat comply with prison rules. They were supposed to wait until the next shift arrived to relieve them. Caleb was not fool enough to think his uniform made him immune. 26
Without a word, the black cat watched his "coworkers" leave.27
Caleb waited resentfully until the other guards were gone, then crossed the hallway to #12's cell.28
"I'm going to undo the straps, all right?"29
Prisoner #12 tried to meet Caleb's eyes. The murderer's lips were skinned back from his teeth; his low growl echoed like distant thunder off the concrete walls. Caleb ducked his head, refusing to allow their gazes to lock, instead looking down so as to thread his arms through the bars so as to reach the main torso belt. He could feel the man's gaze, blazing with the immeasurable fury of a wildfire, trying to set the back of his neck alight. With the torso belt undone, Caleb paused. 30
Impulsively, the feline allowed his eyes to meet the prisoners' then, gazing up at the condemned man with an amount of sympathy that surprised himself. Knowing that the wolverine before him was guilty of murders so twisted that even a demon wouldn't have committed them didn't change Caleb's fundamental aversion to torture, nor his sympathy for a victim thereof. If nothing else, Caleb felt, a man should have the safety and community of his own kind. Barlak packs never turned on each other. Wyverns never stung other wyverns. Yet human beasts prey on their own kind as happily as everyone else.31
He couldn't meet those hellish eyes for long. He felt as if his eyeballs were scalded, as if hate could be concentrated into a caustic chemical gas. Swallowing reflexively against a dry mouth, Caleb turned his attention swiftly to releasing the second torso belt. He was grateful that the weight of the official prison guard's uniform hid his bristling hackles.32
Caleb cast furtive glances about, making sure they were still alone, then leaned forward in the manner of a conspirator addressing his fellows. The dark-coated man spoke to the floor -- unable to meet the other man's eyes again -- in a quick, whispered undertone, his long, sleek tail twitching in agitation behind him.33
"Listen. I know you won't believe this, but... the others are fucking sick. I don't care what you've done. You're still a person, not a toy for some power-tripping dickhead's sick tiny-penis-compensation games."34
A considerable quantity of animosity tore itself free of Caleb's self-control and flung itself through his teeth, twisting the cat's short muzzle into an ugly snarl. The heat of his own words took Caleb aback, but he didn't retract or modulate them.35
Silence hung heavy around their shoulders. On sudden impulse, Caleb reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded ten-dollar bill, tucking it into the pocket on the front of #12's prison-issue shirt. It had been set aside for tonight's dinner, but Caleb didn't feel like eating anymore. He deliberately averted his gaze from #12's face as he released the man's right arm and hand. 36
As soon as #12's right arm was fully freed, Caleb yanked his arms back through the bars and walked quickly back to his post. His sensitive ears detected footsteps approaching and he couldn't risk being seen interacting with a prisoner so closely. With his arm free, #12 could finish releasing himself.37
Behind him, in the cell, he heard #12 undo the restraints and push the restraint-board into its nook at the back of his cell. Every cell had one. Each prisoner was responsible for their own board, including paying for any repairs or replacements necessary. This was one of the Warden's personal innovations. Alpha male of this pack of degenerate drakes, Caleb thought.38
Caleb wasn't surprised, as some might have been, that #12 chose not to take out his simmering rage on the board. It may have been tempting, but the Warden overcharged prisoners outrageously for such things. A prisoner who couldn't afford to replace what he had destroyed ended up "in seclusion". Everyone called it The Pit.39
Nobody liked being in The Pit. Not even the angriest, least cooperative inmates.40
The Pit devoured monsters and spat out madmen. 41
Caleb wished, not for the first time, that he could find a different job. With the economy how it was, however, he knew he was lucky even to have the job he did. To give it up would be suicide. 42
As Caleb noted the subtle sound of paper being unfolded, the two guards responsible for working the next shift arrived. Caleb stayed just long enough to exchange polite greetings. Then he fled as quickly as he felt he could risk, desperate for home.
Author notes
Constructive criticism is usually preferred. But, honestly, if it makes you want to be brutal, be brutal. Give me the critique I deserve.
- Penned to the Letter group list • next in list
A contest entry
- Novels and Chaptered Works 2 by tallblondie.
1000 points, ended December 15, 2008, 28 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - THUNDERDOME by beerstorecowboy.
100 points, ended January 18, 23 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Are you engaged and interested? Do you care what happens to these people?
Comments
1 - 23 of 23
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I thought I just commented on this, but apparently something didn't work right. Probably me. I like that you used animals and the story kept me engaged from the beginning until the end. I wouldn't mind reading more of this.
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Very engaging story, kept me reading from the beginning til the end. Nice touch using the animals. Wouldn't mind reading more of this.
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Let me take a departure from my usual stance of unmitigated brutality over everything and say quite honestly to you that even if I were feeling like tearing you to shreds, I'm not so sure I could do it.
You are incredibly talented and this is a very well-done piece. I'm impressed.
But that's not what you want or need to hear. Problem is, I don't have much criticism to give you. The writing flows well. Nothing is over-described. The characters feel real.
I do think the dialogue could use a little work and occasionally your word choices have an air of pretentiousness to them, but overall this is pretty damn good.
One thing, though:
I cannot, for the life of me, understand why the characters are humanoid animals. It seems entirely unnecessary and, thusfar anyway, doesn't play into the plot all that much. I saw that you were asking if the reader cares about these characters and the answer is Yes... but I would care a lot more if they weren't rats and crocodiles.
You make the finalist list for sure. -
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Take a look at some of the comments below. There is, in fact, a big reason why they're how they are. It's sort of a metaphoric meta-story device. It'll become clearer in a novel-length story, I think, than it is in a single isolated chapter. Essentially, the idea is to reinforce the fact that we are, in fact, all animals. Humans are animals, but we like to cling to this delusion of separateness and superiority. I've also noticed that many people resemble specific animals other than humans, to the point where that animal as a symbol can be used to metaphorically represent that person's inner nature. Both of those elements are strongly involved.
The other big thing is that having them be morphics allows me to go into some topics -- racism in particular, but also classism -- in much greater depth, detail, and freedom than I would if I were using real-world humans with real-world races and ethnicities. This way I can say what I want without worrying about people misinterpreting me as being biased against one race or another. I can portray without fearing that people think I'm promoting. See what I mean? -
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Definitely. In fact, I thought you were speaking metaphorically at first and that the characters just had similar features to those animals. It threw me for a loop when I realized you meant it literally.
At any rate, that is a good way to skirt around the controversy when it comes to discussing race relations, but I've always been partial to the harsh sucker-punch of reality when it comes to hot topics.
Again, though... Awesome story, dude. -
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I think using a tactic like this allows for a harder hit to the central processing unit in the brain, at least for my own style. It bypasses the usual biases and automatic "thinking" and forces people to actually consider what's going on. And if they're at all intelligent they'll realize what's going on by the time the book is over. If I do it right, it'll force them to really *think* about things they've long since abandoned to prejudice and habit. I'm especially aiming at people who don't think they have any biases. I target all kinds of biases and pre-conceived notions, though... including that which makes all killing murder and all murder always wrong, except of course when the government does it according to specific rules, and other irrational modern ideas.
*bows* Thanks very much. I'm still improving this. The second chapter should be up soon tho' if you're interested.
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Sorry, but I have already read and commented on this post.
I can’t rate it twice so I’ll have to wait for the next chapter.
Geri
Thumbup Geri
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You threw me a bit at the beginning, I couldn't quite grasp the relation of the characters to their environment, but as I continued on reading it became quite clear as to the bond that each one has to its animal character. I was actually relieved that you used different characters, although I imagine, a story might not be too well received if it was about a pack of rats
Very unusual and unique. Great job!
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This is interesting and unusual - which in my books makes it even more interesting. The animal characteristics of the characters points to what I feel is a deeper meaning in this story - the almost base instinctual capacity of the human 'creature' (what is often referred to as the 'animal' part of the human psyche). The setting and atmosphere of this piece serves to bolster the impact of this story.
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YES!! You're the first person to pick up on that without me having to tell you. I've been wracking my brains trying to figure out how to communicate all the little ideas and concepts I string through these stories more clearly. Thank you. I'm not sure I don't still have to do that, though.
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Good
This is well written and entertaining, although I don't usually go for stories about animal/human characters. Your characters are interesting and have distinct personalities.
I appreciated your short explanation of how Delve finds his victims, having earlier read 'Doubt' today.
This promises to be an odd novel.
Andy
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Please read my contest rules next time; I specified no horror, and that's one of your categories. I'm going to have to DQ this entry.
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I did read the rules. I decided to enter because it's only peripherally "horror"; it's about a serial killer, but not about his active career and the main body of the story is about mental health and legal issues.
Sorry if the fact that I tagged it "horror" was too much.
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The plot is smooth and moves along nicely, with action that is visible
An unusual tale of horror, since I’m rather into the darker side of reading and I always pick up first chapters, I just had to check it out
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I did realize the fact; your story is not of this World, as we know it.
You have a grand imagination and using animals to portray your characters is fun. But since unnecessary cruelty to one another is more a human trait, or alien (they usually resemble each other) investment, it took me awhile to figure out what kind of world the author was creating.
The plot is smooth and moves along nicely, with action that is visible, so it is easy to follow.
The dialogue mixes perfectly with the activity taking place.
Apparently you plan to disclose the genre (Science Fiction) in the introduction and by the cover of the novel. When I first started to read (my fault) I assumed this was another story of the Human Serial Killer kind. Not a problem because I dig ‘Other World’ tales even more
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I do hope you continue posting this, as I look forward to following the story.
Geri
plot: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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See, that's the one concept I've had the hardest time conveying. They *are* human -- but they're also animals, just as we in real life are humans and yet also still animals. I'm trying to demonstrate the essential bestiality of humanity by putting my own characters' inner beast on the outside. To make it work on an external level I set it in an alternate Earth and did some evolutionary fiddling, plus worked in the concept of a living animistic world as opposed to the "dead matter" we usually conceive of. I'm going to try to use the cover, and maybe interior illustrations (I'm an artist also) to show the reader exactly what I'm talking about as far as how the people look, but even though these people look and seem more animal than real-world humans, it's mostly just the evolutionary remnants of being descended from beasts other than primates, and the deliberate attempts by many people to "stay true to their roots". (Just like people do in our world with their national heritage.)
Hence why they look like animals and have animal habits, but behave fundamentally like humans. It's a useful metaphor and also gives me some freedom that I normally don't have when working with primate-humans. For example, I have a lot more freedom to delve into racism and the like without worrying about stepping on people's toes, or about not having really intimate knowledge of the subject and thus screwing something up.
(There are, in fact, some primate-humans in this world, too, though slightly more bestial to go along with the overall theme. In writing this world I discovered a few people are just plain human inside, with no symbolic or metaphoric resemblance to any other creature. The other races tend to call them "flat-faces".)
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This is really good, very nice description and I love the realistic portrayal of prison life here. It does throw me off that you use animals though instead of people...maybe I am missing something?
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They're anthropomorphic animals; sort of like "furries" but both more animalistic and more realistically human. It's set in an alternate Earth in which evolution proceeded much differently and life takes energy-based as well as matter-based forms. Things will get clearer as the story continues. I chose this story as my first novel specifically because it allows me to introduce the world in a way that (I hope) other people will be able to follow and enjoy.
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A Panzram novel? Can't wait! =D
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Yes indeed! It's going to be set in my alternate-Earth original universe, so the names and some details will be different, but I plan to stick pretty close to his real story and especially his personality. I think it's a shame he's so obscure; he's the only serial killer who actually impresses me as a *powerful* person, rather than a desperate, un-controlled one. Most killers kill because they can't resist their impulses -- he deliberately chose to stomp all over everyone he thought had kept him down. He was a seriously broken person, don't get me wrong, but a very different sort to the usual, and in some ways almost sympathetic. If it's true that he was viciously abused under the auspices of "reform" by the Church, and true that he was gang-raped by homeless men at 13-14 years old, then his endless inability to perceive anything but threat from anyone else becomes almost pitiable. Almost.
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Not to mention he has some of the greatest serial killer quotes ever;
"His brains were coming out of his ears when I left him and he will never be any deader."
And his last words;
"Yes, hurry it up, you Hoosier bastard! I could hang ten men while you're fooling around!"
Any other killers you're interested in? Feel free to PM me. -
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LOL, damn right! XD I plan to use some of his best. Have you seen the Joe Coleman comic about him?
I'm fascinated by serial killers in general, especially those with particularly interesting psychologies. Jeffrey Dahmer, Zodiac, Andrei Chikatilo... most any cannibals, really, plus a lot of interest in piquerism.
(I often have little conversations in comments. I'll PM if you like.)
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There's a comic about him?? I did not know that. =P
Same here. Dahmer, Bundy, Gein, Fish, Zodiac, Gacy, BTK, Holmes, and on and on... I dunno why, they're just interesting individuals.
As for piquerism, I know Fish was definitely into that. There's that X-ray of his groin and all the needles he stuck in himself...
Up to you. Either works for me. Or if you've got AIM (usually no one I asks does), I've got that, too. -
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Not a comic exactly... more like a graphic-novel style illustration of his life and such. It's awesome. It's in the back of the book "The Serial Killer Files".
P.S.: There's actually a story in this entry now.
P.S.S.: I do actually have AIM but almost never use it. I should fix that.
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