Short Story : Killer Instinct
Detective Felicity Maxwell opened her eyes, blinking in the darkness of the room she found herself trapped in. She continued to blink, trying to adjust her eyes to the dark, and eventually she started to make out some of her surroundings.
The room looked like it might have been some sort of shed, but the lack of light from any windows made her think she might be underground, perhaps in someone’s basement workshop judging by the table saw and the rows of tools hammered into the wall above a bench. She shuddered as she eyed the tools, imagining what non-handy-man jobs they might have previously performed. She continued looking around the room, trying to scope out possible escape routes, but there was only one; a flight of stairs that led who-knew where. But trying to think of exit strategies was a little redundant, considering her arms were shackled to a beam above her head.
Felicity tugged at her restraints, desperately trying to find some sort of give in them, but there was none. All she could do was hang there, hoping that one of her fellow officers had received her request for backup before she’d been outmatched by the killer. Still, she had managed to get off a round into his shoulder, so that was something.
Not much, but something.
As she considered her situation, she couldn’t help but think back on how she’d left things with her boyfriend, Trevor. They’d argued that morning – a big argument – and the last words she’d said to him were “I wish you were dead”. She couldn’t help admiring the irony. Judging by her current predicament, she’d be the one dead, and soon.
She’d been tracking the location of a suspect in the Jigsaw Killer case; a killer who had a nasty habit of abducting people then leaving their bodies to be found, chopped up into pieces and assembled like a jigsaw puzzle. Originally they’d considered calling him the Puzzler, but it sounded too much like a villain from the old Batman comics. Granted, the Jigsaw Killer made him sound like John from the Saw series of movies, but the press had gotten hold of the name before they could come up with a better one.
Felicity herself hadn’t originally been assigned to the case of the Jigsaw Killer. Her boyfriend Trevor had been leading the case, but because of something that had happened at work between him and the Captain, he’d been pulled from the case. The argument between Trevor and Felicity had been concerning the fact that Felicity had agreed to take over the case, and he’d been furious that she was stealing his thunder by leading such a high profile investigation.
She’d told him to get over it.
Which hadn’t exactly calmed him down.
Things had escalated when he told her the only reason she got put on the case was because the Captain wanted to have sex with her, which went down very well. She’s slapped him across the face, he’d called her a bitch, and she’d told him she wished he was dead.
And now she was strung up in a lunatic’s lair, waiting to be butchered to death and sliced up like salami.
Felicity hung limply from the beam, trying to rest her legs but only succeeding in straining her arms. If someone didn’t come soon she was sure to be dead meat. She looked at the wall of weaponry, as she’d decided to name it, and pondered how she could loosen herself and slaughter whoever had locked her down her.
As she thought, she heard a noise coming from above her. So, she was definitely in a basement. The noise sounded like a door opening, but it wasn’t the door to this room unless it was pitch black in the rest of the house. She held her breath, fearing that it was the Jigsaw Killer and that he’d hear her, then realised how stupid that was.
He was the one who’d locked her down here. So what was the point in being silent?
Realising that her time might almost be up, she started to pull at her restraints, urgently trying to fray the ropes that bound her wrists. The beam she was tied to was an old wooden one, so there were splinters which she could try to use to cut through the rope. In desperation she started rubbing her hands back and forth, feeling the wood cutting into the rope as well as her wrists. Back and forth she pulled, back and forth, in the hope of getting free and maybe, just maybe, getting hold of a weapon to defend herself from the killer.
As she pulled on the rope, she heard footsteps above her head, getting louder as they presumably got closer. With a final burst of energy she whipped the rope back and forth even harder against the beam until suddenly, without warning, the rope snapped.
Felicity fell forward with a jolt as she found herself free from her restraints. She looked at her wrists, the skin rubbed raw by the beam and the rope, and she nursed the tenderly with her fingers. They hadn’t cut too deep, so rather than slicing her wrists they had only left mild abrasions. The sound of a door handle turning caught Felicity’s attention, and she turned her head quickly to where the sound was coming from, seeing a small sliver of light appear at the top of the flight of stairs. Getting up from her prone position on the floor, Felicity sprinted to the work bench and grabbed a hacksaw, hiding it behind her back as the sliver of light became a beam, then a shaft, then the whole room was illuminated as an over head halogen light flickered on.
Felicity breathed heavily as she heard the footsteps coming down into the basement, and she raised the hacksaw level with her face, waiting for the killer’s approach. Flexing her fingers, she got ready to swing the hacksaw as a pair of familiar shoes stopped down towards her. She frowned, then relaxed her face with a sigh of relief as she realised who it was.
Trevor.
“Oh, thank God you came!” Felicity beamed, throwing down the hacksaw and rushing towards her boyfriend, “I wasn’t sure if my message got through.”
“You really shouldn’t have come here,” Trevor said quietly, “I told you, this case isn’t for women.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Felicity agreed, not wanting to get into another fight, “let’s just get out of here.”
She threw her arms around Trevor, hugging him tightly, but she couldn’t help noticing him wince as she did so.
“Are you okay?” she asked, taking a step back, “are you hurt?”
“It’s nothing,” Trevor waved it off, “just a little stiff, that’s all.”
Felicity looked at Trevor, noticing a stain on his shirt. A small circle of blood was soaking through the shoulder of his shirt, and Felicity couldn’t suppress the look of shock that crossed her face.
“You... you’re...”
“What is it?” Trevor asked, but Felicity couldn’t speak. The wound was exactly where she’d shot the killer, which could mean only one thing...
“You’re...” Felicity tried again, reaching behind her for the work bench. Trevor looked at his shoulder wound and tutted.
“I wish you hadn’t seen that,” Trevor said almost inaudibly, looking down at his wound then back up at Felicity. As he did, Felicity swung a hammer she’d found on the work bench into the side of his head, knocking him off balance. Taking full advantage of his confusion, Felicity raced passed Trevor and up the stairs, hoping to escape.
That wound on his arm could mean only one thing. Trevor was the Jigsaw Killer!
No wonder he didn’t want anyone else working on the case; he was probably making sure that none of the actual evidence got compiled to form a case against him. Now he was killing cops as well? Or at least trying to.
Felicity scrambled through the door at teh top of the stairs, finding herself in an old fashioned wooden house. Looking around she saw the front door standing open and she raced towards it, but as the ran she heard Trevor coming up the stairs behind her.
“You can try to run, Felicity,” he said in a mocking voice, “but you won’t be able to get away.”
Felicity stared at the man she had once loved, a look of sheer evil on his face. In one hand he held Felicity’s police issue revolver, and in the other a deadly looking machete. He grinned even wider when he saw the fear on Felicity’s face before she ran through the front door.
Outside Felicity stopped in her tracks, looking around. All she could see was old farmland, allowed to turn barren through lack of care. She stared into the distance where she couldn’t even see a road or any other buildings. Turning back to the house, she saw Trevor standing in the doorway.
“Run,” he said simply, beginning the last sentence she’d ever hear, “it makes it so much more enjoyable.”
Realising there was nothing else for it, Felicity turned and ran, sprinting a futile sprint as Trevor started to give chase.
Originally Posted 10/2/2016
Result - Didn't Place
The room looked like it might have been some sort of shed, but the lack of light from any windows made her think she might be underground, perhaps in someone’s basement workshop judging by the table saw and the rows of tools hammered into the wall above a bench. She shuddered as she eyed the tools, imagining what non-handy-man jobs they might have previously performed. She continued looking around the room, trying to scope out possible escape routes, but there was only one; a flight of stairs that led who-knew where. But trying to think of exit strategies was a little redundant, considering her arms were shackled to a beam above her head.
Felicity tugged at her restraints, desperately trying to find some sort of give in them, but there was none. All she could do was hang there, hoping that one of her fellow officers had received her request for backup before she’d been outmatched by the killer. Still, she had managed to get off a round into his shoulder, so that was something.
Not much, but something.
As she considered her situation, she couldn’t help but think back on how she’d left things with her boyfriend, Trevor. They’d argued that morning – a big argument – and the last words she’d said to him were “I wish you were dead”. She couldn’t help admiring the irony. Judging by her current predicament, she’d be the one dead, and soon.
She’d been tracking the location of a suspect in the Jigsaw Killer case; a killer who had a nasty habit of abducting people then leaving their bodies to be found, chopped up into pieces and assembled like a jigsaw puzzle. Originally they’d considered calling him the Puzzler, but it sounded too much like a villain from the old Batman comics. Granted, the Jigsaw Killer made him sound like John from the Saw series of movies, but the press had gotten hold of the name before they could come up with a better one.
Felicity herself hadn’t originally been assigned to the case of the Jigsaw Killer. Her boyfriend Trevor had been leading the case, but because of something that had happened at work between him and the Captain, he’d been pulled from the case. The argument between Trevor and Felicity had been concerning the fact that Felicity had agreed to take over the case, and he’d been furious that she was stealing his thunder by leading such a high profile investigation.
She’d told him to get over it.
Which hadn’t exactly calmed him down.
Things had escalated when he told her the only reason she got put on the case was because the Captain wanted to have sex with her, which went down very well. She’s slapped him across the face, he’d called her a bitch, and she’d told him she wished he was dead.
And now she was strung up in a lunatic’s lair, waiting to be butchered to death and sliced up like salami.
Felicity hung limply from the beam, trying to rest her legs but only succeeding in straining her arms. If someone didn’t come soon she was sure to be dead meat. She looked at the wall of weaponry, as she’d decided to name it, and pondered how she could loosen herself and slaughter whoever had locked her down her.
As she thought, she heard a noise coming from above her. So, she was definitely in a basement. The noise sounded like a door opening, but it wasn’t the door to this room unless it was pitch black in the rest of the house. She held her breath, fearing that it was the Jigsaw Killer and that he’d hear her, then realised how stupid that was.
He was the one who’d locked her down here. So what was the point in being silent?
Realising that her time might almost be up, she started to pull at her restraints, urgently trying to fray the ropes that bound her wrists. The beam she was tied to was an old wooden one, so there were splinters which she could try to use to cut through the rope. In desperation she started rubbing her hands back and forth, feeling the wood cutting into the rope as well as her wrists. Back and forth she pulled, back and forth, in the hope of getting free and maybe, just maybe, getting hold of a weapon to defend herself from the killer.
As she pulled on the rope, she heard footsteps above her head, getting louder as they presumably got closer. With a final burst of energy she whipped the rope back and forth even harder against the beam until suddenly, without warning, the rope snapped.
Felicity fell forward with a jolt as she found herself free from her restraints. She looked at her wrists, the skin rubbed raw by the beam and the rope, and she nursed the tenderly with her fingers. They hadn’t cut too deep, so rather than slicing her wrists they had only left mild abrasions. The sound of a door handle turning caught Felicity’s attention, and she turned her head quickly to where the sound was coming from, seeing a small sliver of light appear at the top of the flight of stairs. Getting up from her prone position on the floor, Felicity sprinted to the work bench and grabbed a hacksaw, hiding it behind her back as the sliver of light became a beam, then a shaft, then the whole room was illuminated as an over head halogen light flickered on.
Felicity breathed heavily as she heard the footsteps coming down into the basement, and she raised the hacksaw level with her face, waiting for the killer’s approach. Flexing her fingers, she got ready to swing the hacksaw as a pair of familiar shoes stopped down towards her. She frowned, then relaxed her face with a sigh of relief as she realised who it was.
Trevor.
“Oh, thank God you came!” Felicity beamed, throwing down the hacksaw and rushing towards her boyfriend, “I wasn’t sure if my message got through.”
“You really shouldn’t have come here,” Trevor said quietly, “I told you, this case isn’t for women.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Felicity agreed, not wanting to get into another fight, “let’s just get out of here.”
She threw her arms around Trevor, hugging him tightly, but she couldn’t help noticing him wince as she did so.
“Are you okay?” she asked, taking a step back, “are you hurt?”
“It’s nothing,” Trevor waved it off, “just a little stiff, that’s all.”
Felicity looked at Trevor, noticing a stain on his shirt. A small circle of blood was soaking through the shoulder of his shirt, and Felicity couldn’t suppress the look of shock that crossed her face.
“You... you’re...”
“What is it?” Trevor asked, but Felicity couldn’t speak. The wound was exactly where she’d shot the killer, which could mean only one thing...
“You’re...” Felicity tried again, reaching behind her for the work bench. Trevor looked at his shoulder wound and tutted.
“I wish you hadn’t seen that,” Trevor said almost inaudibly, looking down at his wound then back up at Felicity. As he did, Felicity swung a hammer she’d found on the work bench into the side of his head, knocking him off balance. Taking full advantage of his confusion, Felicity raced passed Trevor and up the stairs, hoping to escape.
That wound on his arm could mean only one thing. Trevor was the Jigsaw Killer!
No wonder he didn’t want anyone else working on the case; he was probably making sure that none of the actual evidence got compiled to form a case against him. Now he was killing cops as well? Or at least trying to.
Felicity scrambled through the door at teh top of the stairs, finding herself in an old fashioned wooden house. Looking around she saw the front door standing open and she raced towards it, but as the ran she heard Trevor coming up the stairs behind her.
“You can try to run, Felicity,” he said in a mocking voice, “but you won’t be able to get away.”
Felicity stared at the man she had once loved, a look of sheer evil on his face. In one hand he held Felicity’s police issue revolver, and in the other a deadly looking machete. He grinned even wider when he saw the fear on Felicity’s face before she ran through the front door.
Outside Felicity stopped in her tracks, looking around. All she could see was old farmland, allowed to turn barren through lack of care. She stared into the distance where she couldn’t even see a road or any other buildings. Turning back to the house, she saw Trevor standing in the doorway.
“Run,” he said simply, beginning the last sentence she’d ever hear, “it makes it so much more enjoyable.”
Realising there was nothing else for it, Felicity turned and ran, sprinting a futile sprint as Trevor started to give chase.
Originally Posted 10/2/2016
Result - Didn't Place
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