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Description
Prologue

From the top level of the old, abandoned barn, a dark figure watched through a grimy window as a lone police slowed to a stop just short of a winding dirt path, the brilliant red and blue lights winking out as the engine abruptly shut off. He smirked and stepped away from the filthy glass, walking towards a rickety step ladder just barely peeking up over the lip of the hay-covered floor. They finally managed to put two and two together, he thought. Good. It would've been no fun at all if he remained in that town for the rest of his life, walking free thanks to the incompetence of the police. He slowly descended the ladder and opted to skip the last few steps, releasing his grip and landing on the dirt with a thud.

In front of him, hanging by the ankles several feet above the floor in the middle of the room, another figure stirred, awakened by the noise. He paced methodically towards her, boots clomping heavily against the ground, and grinned as the captive's newly opened eyes went wide with fear, her predicament dawning on her. "Good. You're awake." He ran a gloved finger along her soft cheek, prompting to writhe and scream furiously against the restraints, her cries for help muffled by the cloth gag stuffed in her mouth. "This would be much less fun if you were unconscious." The man drew a long knife, and the girl caught a glimpse of her own terrified visage in the blade's polished flat, the metal gleaming wickedly in the moonlight. "I apologize for the suddenness." he said, bringing the razor edge closer to the soft meat of her neck. "Ordinarily I'd take a day or two to cut you up some, but I'm in a bit of a hurry."
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Part 1

"Whaddya think's going on in there, Tom?" One of the uniformed men in the vehicle asked, a pair of binoculars focused on the barn affixed to his eyes. Tom chewed the toothpick in his mouth thoughtfully, craning his neck for a view around his partner's head. "Geez...I don't know." he muttered. "Nothing good, I'm guessing." The first officer, without removing his hand from the binoculars, pointed to a large white van sitting outside. "That's the van they said was in that girl's driveway the morning she went missing." "There are millions of white vans, Bill." Tom mused. "I know, but this is the one. I know it is." "How so?" Bill handed the binoculars to Tom, who raised them to his eyes. "Look at the license plate." Bill said, grinning as Tom squinted to see what he had seen.

"There isn't a license plate." "Exactly." "You think he tore them off?" "I think the van didn't have plates to begin with." Bill explained. "A guy like this, he wouldn't want to be recognized, whether just driving around town or butchering folks." "You think he's local?" "Nope. Remember that con that escaped from prison a few counties over?" "Eddie-something? Skinny guy, crazy as a soup sandwich?" "That's him." Bill said excitedly. "He was doing 35 years for slaughtering some poor woman and her kid. Hacked 'em up like our guy, and get this: he was driving a white van when he was caught disposing of their remains." A smile slowly crept across Tom's face as he set down the binoculars, much to the delight of his partner.

"That's a hell of a theory, Bill." "Ain't it? Best part is, they never found the guy after he escaped." Tom watched Bill quizzically as he popped open the passenger side door and stepped out of the car, snapping his gun out of its holster. "Whoa, whoa...What are you doing?" "Going to take a look around." Bill replied. "After all, we've got probable cause now, don't we?" "Bill, wait...Bill!" Tom called after Bill as he walked away from the car and crouched, moving forward slowly and cautiously, a wall of corn providing his cover. "Call it in." he shouted back. "I'll be back in a minute."

He took another step forward, and the ground squished as his polished shoe sunk deep into the dark, wet mud. A pungent odor radiated from the puddle, and Bill crinkled his nose at the smell. "Tom!" he shouted. "We need to get out of here! He's been pouring gas into the soil!" Tom's inaudible next words were interrupted by the crack of a gunshot, giving way to stark silence shortly afterwards. Bill gulped, a tight knot of dread forming in his gut, and called again. "Tom!" No response. He turned and sprinted back up the path, determined to uncover what had just transpired, but before he had gotten very far he heard the scream.
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Part 2

Charging down the dirt path at top speed, Bill transferred his momentum into a fast kick as he reached the barn's side door, splintering it off its hinges and revealing a blazing inferno in the building's interior. A tall, wire-thin man in dark clothing stood brooding over a weeping girl bound and hanging upside down, a knife in one hand and a small hacksaw in the other. Blood was pouring from the girl's mouth and the deep crimson holes where her eyes had once been, as well as the large divot his saw had opened up in her arm. The barn's burning infrastructure seemed unconcerning to the man, and he continued sawing even as embers falling from the rafters set the dry hay on the floor around him ablaze. The girl's wail of pain churned Bill's stomach as the saw's teeth bit deeper into her arm, and he leveled his pistol at the man's back.

"Police!" he shouted. "Drop the weapons and step away from the girl!" The man froze momentarily, the knife's point sticking in the dirt as it slipped from his fingers, but after the shock had worn off he immediately returned to his work. "I don't think I'll be doing that, Officer." he spoke calmly, quietly, yet there was something lilting and manic in his tone. "So you may as well shoot me now. As fast as this place is coming down, none of us have much time left." Bill gritted his teeth, creeping silently up behind the man as the saw finally broke through the humerus bone. The bloodied tool was cast backwards at his feet, and he nearly gagged as the torturer grabbed the limp, dangling arm with both hands, freeing it from the last few connecting bits of flesh as the girl screamed again.

The man tossed the arm aside as he had done with the saw and stuffed his grimy gloved hands in his pockets, chuckling as he watched his captive thrash in pain. Bill was right behind him, gun raised, ready to club him into submission with the butt. The hot report of a gunshot sounded, and with a yell he dropped his weapon and pitched over backwards, clutching the fresh wound in his gut. "You...Hff...Son-of-a..." The man fired again, the bullet flying through the hole torn in his coat pocket by the first and finding a home in Bill's hand, prompting another howl from the latter as he writhed in pain on the ground. The man placed the gun inside his pocket and retrieved Bill's fallen pistol, examining it. "I hope you don't mind if I take this." he said. "Your partner required a bit of convincing before he was willing to part with his." Bill could manage nothing more than a weak gasp as the man smiled and ruffled his thinning, sweat-matted hair. "You did a good job finally finding me, Officer..." he called as he walked to the door, pausing in the threshold, "But it seems you were ill-prepared to face me. That, I'm afraid, has cost you your life." The man stepped out of the burning barn, leaving Bill and his captive to their fate.
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Part 3

There was no sign of the killer when Bill, in extreme pain, staggered out of the rapidly collapsing building with the unconscious girl on his shoulders, the barn collapsing in a heap of flame and charred wood seconds afterwards. He pitched straight forward and fell face-first into the mud, pain shooting through his wounds as his body served as a cushion for the girl's fall. He wanted to simply pass out, let the darkness have him and lay bleeding until the fire department arrived, but he couldn't. The killer was still somewhere close, and his words in the barn had led Bill to believe that Tom could be in danger.

Gently rolling the girl off of him, Bill struggled to his feet, one hand clutched against the ragged wound spilling blood down his uniform. With his free hand, he retrieved his backup pistol, with which he had shot through the rope holding the captive in place, and pulled back the hammer, the click echoing throughout the surrounding cornfields. A cold, menacing voice called out mockingly in return. "Are you hunting for me, Officer?" Bill ignored him and pressed on, moving closer to the road where he hoped the squad car-along with Tom-still sat. "I wouldn't go up there if I were you. It's a bit of a mess." He crept closer to the corner of one column of cornstalks, spotting the slightest bit of crimson flowing slowly across the concrete. "In my opinion, though, he got off easier than you're going to."

Bill whipped the back of his gun hand over his mouth in horror as the cruiser finally came into view, as well as Tom, who was sitting rigidly in the driver's seat. His blank, unseeing eyes were looking out the splintered windshield, and his jaw sagged slightly, blood from the bullet hole in his forehead dribbling down into his mouth through the small part in his lips. Tears in his eyes, Bill stumbled to the still-open passenger side door and leaned inside, closing Tom's eyes with a trembling hand and shouting with animal rage into the night. "YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!!!" Silence. "If it's revenge you want, Officer..." the calm voice finally replied, a hint of amusement in the killer's tone. "I'm waiting."

Sucking in a deep, painful breath and letting it out slowly, Bill stepped away from the car and unclipped his radio from his belt, a burst of static sounding as he switched it on. "Dispatch..." his voice was low and quiet as he lifted the receiver to his lips. "This is Unit 83." A response came almost right away. "Copy, 83, what's your twenty?" "We've got a..." Bill's voice caught in his throat as he began to tear up again. He continued, voice trembling. "We've...We've got a 406 off of Highway 9. Repeat, 406. Officer down...I'm all alone, Dispatch." He turned to look at the blackened pile of wood dotted with flame that had once been the barn, the mangled girl lying beside it on the ground, Tom, and finally his own wounds. "Hell...Send everyone, Dispatch." he muttered. "Black and whites, EMS, fire department...Get 'em all down here. It's a mess." "Copy that. Hang in there, we're coming to you."

The radio went dead, and Bill fired a shot through the device as it slipped from his fingers and sunk into the blood-soaked mud. He had done the right thing, and now he had several minutes to hunt for the madman unopposed. Gun ready and with a heart full of vengeance, he stepped into the cornfield and began creeping through the stalks, intent on finding and shooting the man himself.
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Part 4

"You hear that, you sick fuck?!" Bill shouted as he stalked through the rows. "I got friends on the way! And when they're finished with you, you'll be so full of holes it'll be like looking at Swiss cheese!!" From somewhere in the maze, the killer laughed mockingly. "Is that so? Then tell me, why are you taking your chances playing needle-in-a-haystack looking for me? Why not wait in safety by the car until the others arrive?" Though he knew the motion couldn't be seen, Bill shrugged angrily. "Maybe I want to get a lick or two in for all the shit you've put me through tonight." he growled through clenched teeth. "A fair point. But you're an officer of the law, not some trigger-happy vigilante." The voice was coming from a different direction than before, and he adjusted his course to follow it. "A bit of property damage, a dead partner, and two gunshot wounds doesn't change that." "On the contrary." Bill replied. "It'll be a while before my backup gets here. We've got some alone time. If you happen to get shot between now and then, I can make up any story I like about how it happened." "And you'll have your revenge." the killer mused. The lilting voice was almost directly behind him now, and Bill tightened his grip on his gun.

Suddenly, without warning, he dove forward towards the damp ground and spun mid-dive, firing four shots that struck a large, humanlike figure standing nearly directly behind him center mass and sending it reeling against a wall of cornstalks. Bill stood, smiling triumphantly as he approached the shape, but his gleeful grin evaporated as his eyes adjusted and he saw reality, the face of the figure he shot revealed as one of burlap instead of flesh. "No..." He backed away from the prone scarecrow and popped the chamber out of his revolver, now emptied of bullets, seething as the killer chuckled again. "If I remember correctly, that was a revolver in your hand by the car earlier." His voice sounded far away, as if he was no longer within the cornfield. "Good to know."

There was a clink and the hard crunch of metal on metal, and through the rows Bill spotted a tiny beacon of yellow light, quivering in the darkness. He recognized it instantly, and a feeling of dread shot through him as he realized just how thoroughly he'd been tricked. He had smelled a pungent odor all night-down the path, in the barn, in the cornfield-and he had largely ignored it due to the many distractions occupying his attention in its stead. That ignorance had lured him straight into the killer's trap, and now he would die for his mistake. Bitterly, angrily, he tossed his empty gun to the ground and folded his hands together, closing his eyes to silently make his peace with God in his last few moments of life.

On the outskirts of the cornfield Bill stood in, the killer grinned and dropped the silver lighter in his hand onto the gas-soaked earth, stepping up onto the safety of the road as the flames quickly advanced on the dry cornstalks. One by one, they became burning pillars of fire, an inferno that ate its way through the rows until the entire field was consumed in flame. The brilliant light gave form to the dark night, and as he stood watching the blaze, the killer heard Bill screaming as he was roasted alive.