Free Monthly #27 The Instinctual Man

What in the X-Files is this?

Introduction

Every so often, I get one of those more nightmarish ideas that reminds me of the X-Files. Sometimes they come in my dreams and sometimes they come while exploring character ideas and their backgrounds, motivations, and the like. This feels to me like a cross between writing a semi-omniscient character and multiple tv-shows I was binging at the end of 2023.

Anyway, if you don’t like dark, creepy, and disturbing, don’t read the ending.

Cheers!

The Instinctual Man

Instinct. A prison and a blessing. I knew I was being foolish. I knew I was being followed. I didn’t care. Fun for me was letting go of the worry and accepting the risk. There wasn’t another option, no other path for me to take. Moving was safe. Moving bought me time.

My pursuers followed as I entered the familiar empty warehouse and crossed to the steel steps. I hurried up the metal grating and past several branches of walkways as I headed to a door. It led to the second floor of the office cluster. There wasn’t time to turn and see how close they were. I wasn’t being chased, but I knew they were behind me. They were just being silent. If they thought I was trapped, alone, and away from prying ears, they were fools.

That was my intent. To fool them. If only they knew.

To lure those following you, you had to think like them, at least enough to make them think they’ve won. That’s when pursuers get careless, when their reflexes and thoughts become lazy. A sudden movement can turn the tables. They won’t see the reality of the situation until it’s too late.

They’ll realize at the end, when they’re too far gone.

I slammed the metal door and barricaded the threshold with a nearby desk before dashing past all the cubicles to the opposite side of the room. As I passed, I looked at one of the whirring computers. Its screen displayed the logo of some company that I didn’t bother to note. The fact the empty place had computers was a miracle on its own, but the fact they were on, waiting for people to arrive, that concerned me.

I didn’t hesitate in my main mission, however, and smashed the protective casing on the wall. I pulled out the fire axe and extinguisher and darted down the steps and made my way to another door, at the opposite end of where I entered the office cluster. I knew the layout of the place by instinct. I had to know. It was impossible not to know.

I exited and ran with shoes pelting the concrete through the rest of the warehouse. Discordant footsteps joined the echoes of my hasty departure. My pursuers were hurtling towards me. It was almost time to flip the table about. They had to assume by now I was incoherently sprinting for my life. That I had no plan.

But I did.

As I burst through the back door, I spun on the spot and dove for the dumpsters. I didn’t climb into them. Instead, I leapt behind them. My keen ears listened intently as I prepared for the impending ambush. I heard the men slow as they reached the open doorway. When they crossed through, I smiled at the sound of heavy breaths. When they came into view, my eyes furrowed at how they held their guns. Whoever they were, they were trained professionals, but that would not be enough to keep me from getting away.

The closest man failed to spot me in the darkness of the evening shade. The sea kept any breathing I made inaudible. I’d have to make time to silently praise my teacher later. Their instructions were crucial to my success. They insisted I take special care of my cardio. For now, I had to live in the moment. The man nearest me moved forward and checked the first and second dumpsters. The third, where I was, came into his sights and he moved forward.

The plastic lid clattered as he swung it open and pointed his gun at the interior. I leapt forward and the axe came down on his neck and left shoulder. The man’s surprise came just before his cry of pain. He collapsed, dropping his gun as he fell. With a swift and graceful movement, I let the axe fall and unleashed the extinguisher’s contents between me and the remaining man. He’d have to blindly shoot or retreat.

I couldn’t be sure he knew his partner was dead. I was perceptive, but not that perceptive. Since I couldn’t be sure how he’d react, and if he was willing to put his partner’s life in danger, I ducked down as the extinguisher emptied. I traded the metal cylinder for the gun.

With impressive speed, I dashed away from the man as he shouted for is partner. Once around the corner, I listened and didn’t hear heavy footsteps hurtling toward me. I smiled and slowed as I considered what to do next. I had to move north, away from where the men had seen me, and I would need to do so swiftly while avoiding any mistakes they could use to trace me. To my chagrin, they had located me, and I’d have to everything in my power to ensure they couldn’t track me, not without a hassle anyway.

I pulled out my phone equipped with an untraceable network card. It utilized some technology of a local criminal syndicate. The criminals had discovered a way to scramble their communication and tower locations, making it difficult to trace where the call originated. It was essentially a VPN for cell phone communication. The best part, in my opinion, was the ability to call others outside of the criminal network. To my knowledge, any person outside of the network was traceable, but that wasn’t my concern. My phone would appear to be something it wasn’t, from somewhere I wasn’t, and the carrier would be whichever one the person I was calling used.

I dialed and lifted the phone to my ear as I ran. While I waited for them to answer, I tucked the handgun into my pants and pulled Bluetooth earbuds from my pocket. I put the earbuds in and returned my phone to my pocket before the call was answered. It was safe from being dropped and damaged and I relaxed a bit. The phone was practically irreplaceable, and it had served me well over the years.

“Hello?” The woman’s voice on the other end sounded exhausted.

“Livia, it’s me. I need to know what’s going on.”

“Ben? Where are you?”

“That’s not important, Livia. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“One of these days you’ll need to find a cop who’ll put up with your BS. You know that, right?”

“Aren’t you that cop?”

“Do I look like I am putting up with you? Where are you?”

“You haven’t hung up yet, Livia.” I let my words sink in before I continued. “I’m at the port. Had to make myself scarce. Two men were following me.”

“Following you? And you couldn’t shake them?”

“Obviously not or I wouldn’t be running back to the city.”

“Why are you at the port, Ben?”

“You know I won’t tell you.”

“Then why should I help you?” Livia’s tone was both cross and amused.

I put all my annoyance at her badgering and delaying the inevitable into my reply. “Because if there is one thing that keeps you from being tossed into prison for life, it’s me. Why are there men following me, Livia?”

“Well, the, uh, task force had a lead and they followed up on it. I thought you were out of town and they were going out on a wild goose chase. If I knew you were here, I’d have warned you.”

“Always warn me. You know that.”

“Ben, I can’t just get away from others and talk to you every second you need me. You’re lucky I was already in the restroom and no one else is in here.”

I let the lull in the conversation pervade the line as I moved across a street and hopped a metal fence. I jogged under the massive concrete overpass and then down a hill. “These men weren’t part of the task force, were they?”

“That’s what I was told. Why?”

“They aren’t just FBI. They must be something else, CIA or NSA, or similar.”

“Now what would make you say that, Ben?”

“I know what an FBI agent is capable of. These men, they were good. Real good. I couldn’t lose them easily. It took an ambush to get away.”

“An ambush?”

“I had to kill one to get away.”

“Jesus. Ben.”

“Sure, if he helps.” My snarky reply coaxed a laugh from her.

“You’ve got yourself into something serious. Don’t you think it’s time to leave town for good?”

“Why? Don’t you like me?”

“I don’t like having to work off my debt to you. Just because you saved my life doesn’t mean you get to use me as a mole indefinitely.”

“It’s working so far. Are you going to snitch on me?” My words were nonchalant, but I felt something tug at my mind that the answer would be a lie. She was having second thoughts about my activities. If she had the chance, it was probable she’d turn me in.

I’d turn myself in if I were her. Anyone but a fool would seize an opportunity to get away from me. Livia’s actions were inevitable, just a matter of when.

“You know I can’t just tell them I know anything about you they don’t already know. They’d know I’m your mole. As you said, life in prison.”

“Well, I suppose they could keep your body there for two consecutive life sentences. One for helping me and one for the murder of Vincent.”

“You know damn well that was no murder! It was self-defense.”

“All I know is that you wouldn’t have made it out of there alive without me, and that’s why you answer my calls.”

“Do you need anything else, Ben? Aren’t you escaping right now?”

“What gives you that impression.”

“Your breathing for starters.”

“Touche. Livia, I need you to figure out who is working behind the scenes. It’d be good to know who’s really after me. If it’s government or ex-government operators. You do that for me, and I’ll see to it that you get moved to wherever you want in the department.”

“I will hold you to that, Ben. You better not die on me before I get an answer. I want to be captain and that won’t happen while I’m sidelined on this task force.”

“First things first.” I replied, and I hung up without bothering to wait for a reply. I wasn’t good at such things and I never had the time. It was the forward moment, never looking back, that kept the past from catching up. I was always on a mission. I enjoyed it.

There’s nothing like moving forward.

I made my way to the third nearest hotel to the shipyard. It would’ve been too obvious to stop at the first one or two. Anyone with their right mind would check those, but the third, well; I bamboozled the person at the front desk to get a front facing room. From my room, I could see across the street to the previous hotels so I could keep an eye out. My instincts told me it would be a while, so I had time to think.

I took a quick shower and shaved. This helped disguise my appearance should I need to leave in an expedient manner. I was confident my new hairstyle and clean face would be enough to prevent cursory identification. With a sigh, I sat in the armchair by the bed to keep watch. Thoughts raced through my mind as I considered what I’d need to escape.

What would’ve been the trigger for them to find me?

It might’ve been Jerry. Poor gullible Jerry. However, I doubted he sold me out. He seemed too caught up in his job to truly identify anyone he came into contact with. He was simple in that way, which was why I chose him originally. The thought crossed my mind again that Livia had sold me out at last. She had been holding something back when we talked. I didn’t feel it at the time, but as I mused on the phone call, it became obvious.

I let the thoughts considering such an angle flow, unsure of what she could’ve learned, been told, or imagined that would’ve turned her against me. I had just as much on her as she or the investigators would have on me.

After a short deep dive into the possibility, I concluded Livia hadn’t sold me out. Not yet anyway. There’d be time later to sort out the mess with Livia and the task force. For the moment, I needed to focus on how I’d disappear. That was what I did best.

If the task force contained elite operators, searching for me and willing to kill instead of taking me alive, the best path forward was to make myself scarce. At least for a while. Maybe rile up some annoyances to throw them off my scent here so I could complete my work.

My work. My craving to complete my work. The drive to get my work completed this cycle.

I craved for the shipment, but there was more to the shipment than that. My subconscious steered me into hungering for it. I had to restrain myself, to be patient. It wouldn’t do to fly off the handle. It would be illogical, foolish even, to return to the port and locate my shipment right now. They had yet to discover my delivery.

As I thought about the contents of my shipment, there was an instinctual pull towards it. It wasn’t moving. It was waiting.

I shifted and reached for the remote to turn the T.V. on. Several channels flicked by until I found the local news. I turned the audio down so it was audible enough to hear without strain. The volume was low enough I could hear footsteps in the hallway. I didn’t want someone sneaking up on me. Even with my perception, my instincts, I was still fallible. My aura of being impervious to surprises was paramount to my success. Only one place existed where I could forgo caution. I knew I wouldn’t be caught off guard in that place even if I was resting.

Several minutes passed as I reflected on what was necessary before I could go to my shipment. It required a distraction, which I could easily rig up in the metro in the city to the south. D.C. was what they called it. From there, I would have to make it back without them realizing it was all for show. That was the tricky part. I had been in worse scenarios, especially when I needed to leave my precious cargo without people being suspicious, but this was harder than I remembered. The Boston Tea Party was a brilliant stroke of genius and was a great introduction to the continent, but it made for a real troublesome few decades.

I wondered if something like that was ripe for repeating for a time. Eventually, I determined it would be difficult to pull off in the time I had left. I needed that cargo. The craving was increasing and holding it would be more cumbersome the longer I waited. I had gone longer before giving in to the need. I expected to be safe and sound before I came close to breaking my record.

Besides, the hunger became easier to control as the years went on. How many had it been? How many more would I get?

An hour went by before a solid plan I could take pride in was ready. I departed the hotel room, asking the person at the front desk to call me an Uber so that I could get a lift to the airport. They obliged without hesitation and I thanked them. I exited when the Uber arrived and entered the vehicle. The driver was talking on the car Bluetooth in Mandarin. I thought about joining the conversation, but after hearing the topic, I pretended to not know what she was saying. For her part, she paid me no mind after verifying non-verbally where I wished to go. I appreciated the time to think through all the possibilities of my situation.

Once at the airport, I used the name and ID that would surely get flagged by their system. It wasn’t something that the security checkpoint personnel would know about. My trouble was far too classified for that. Besides, holding me up would be too costly, whether or not they knew it. For all their foolishness, keeping me from moving through the checkpoint was too much a risk for civilians. Their weakness was civilians.

Mine was my craving.

I expected they’d wait until I was on the plane or in the boarding area to close in, slowly clearing out civilians to minimize their harm. If I had to guess, they’d wait until boarding and clear all the passengers before confronting me. That’s how I would do it if I were in their shoes.

However, I had no intent on boarding let alone flying. I wouldn’t be in the terminal by the time the task force arrived. I was sneaky like that and smiled as I slipped through a door labeled “employees only”. With a quick glance to ensure no one was nearby, I sprinted through the airport employee hallways, avoiding as many people as I could, until I arrived at the employee parking lot. I broke into one of the older cars. Time was now of the essence as I turned the vehicle on and drove out of the airport, turning onto the southbound freeway.

The plane ticket suggested I wanted to go west to California, but all I wanted was an hour of time before they realized I was not where they thought I was. It’d be enough time for me to cause the real distraction and what they would believe my true game plan to be. Unfortunately for them, the decoy distraction at the airport was just one of the distractions I had planned. People were easy to fool once you realized how they operated, especially when working together in any sort of organization.

The drive went smoothly. By the time I parked a few blocks away from the target bridge, I had already visited a few stores to gather supplies and returned to my stolen vehicle. I felt the need to turn the radio on. Sure enough, I heard a news bulletin several minutes into my work about a fugitive on the run in Baltimore.

I sighed. When everything was done, I would need to alter my appearance. I didn’t want to. I enjoyed the last decade of cat and mouse antics and I wanted to continue the fun. All good things must come to an end, and it would be too difficult to keep things as they were. Running the whole thing as both game master and mouse was more exhausting than I thought it’d be. As invigorating as it had been, it was far more effort than I cared for. Not to mention the risk involved, should I forget anything.

I planted the bomb where my instincts told me it would cause the most damage and set the timer. It started counting down which put me on the clock. I had two hours. I entered the nearest store without a mask and drew my knife.

I told the man behind the counter to call the tip line and tell them they ought to leave me alone before I do something drastic. His confusion quickly turned to fear as I threatened him with the knife and robbed the place for money and enough supplies to convince the authorities I was going to make a bomb. I strode out and performed a few tail losing tricks before slipping into my stolen vehicle and tossing the money and supplies in the backseat. I drove north, back to Baltimore.

The news reports came out that the fugitive may still be on the east coast in Maryland, Delaware, or D.C. and that everyone was encouraged to be on the lookout for a man matching my description. Their description of my former beard made me chuckle. They had yet to realize I no longer had a beard. That or the storekeeper failed to mention it. The report also stated for citizens to be vigilant of any object or package that might contain an improvised explosive device. I glowered at the car’s radio when they mentioned Maryland. The people of Baltimore would be attentive, and that wasn’t what I wanted.

I returned to Baltimore and drove to the nearest beach by the seaport. I ditched the car and continued on foot to the fencing and clambered over it and back into the port where my shipment was located. Searching a nearby office, I located a helmet and vest and donned them to become more inconspicuous.

The next several minutes went by as I walked toward my shipment. I let my intuition tell me where to go this time, and it led me right to a shipping container with my combination lock upon it.

I studied the lock and the container, trying to remember the combination. My intuition only went so far for some things. It took a moment before I smiled. The combination was the birthday of my daughter. A blessing and a curse that thought was and the more I dwelled on the date while opening the lock, the more I hated the thought.

The lock popped open to my shipment. My craving was growing, and I shivered as I lifted the bars. I opened the door to the container. A three-foot section ended with a metal wall and a second door which possessed a biometric scanner.

I pressed my thumb down on the scanner. The door clicked open. With a giddy grin, I pushed the sliding door all the way over and crossed the threshold. The lab room at last. This was where I could change my features, but it would take time. Time I knew I had now that I’d given the task force the slip. I returned to the shipping container’s door and closed it. I maneuvered the bars back in place with the internal mechanism my teacher had designed. I moved back to the lab and shut the biometric door.

No one could find me in this place. Not for several days and the luck of an entire millennium. I had plenty of time.

I crossed to the back of the lab and thumbed another biometric lock. I entered the feasting room. It contained a table with straps and various devices I had developed to aid the efficiency of the process. Two final doors stood at the far end of the room. Both of which had windows and a face staring at me in a confused and concerned curiosity. I gazed into their eyes, and I could see it. Yes, they should be concerned.

They sought me out, looking for someone who’d bypass American customs. They had pasts that made it nearly impossible to enter America without circumventing the rules, or were they laws? No matter, they were told they’d arrive in America. I didn’t lie; they were in America. In any case, neither specimen knew what was about to take place. I needed their nutrients, and I had all the tools to arrange it. I licked my lips as I washed my hands and went to the door on the right. Inside was the young man from Sudan. Scrawny, but delectable all the same.

I overpowered and knocked him out. I drug his limp body to the washtub. After doing the same with the Egyptian girl behind the other door, I removed their clothes and hosed them down and placed the man on the table.

When the straps were secure, I bound the girl, who didn’t look a day over twenty-five, in the washtub so she wouldn’t get away if the man took too long. I gave her a dose of a sedative to ensure she wouldn’t be an issue. The dose was small enough to not impair me when I got to her.

The man on the table finally woke up. I had practiced my methods and knew he wouldn’t be out for long.

He cried out in a thick accent. “What is this? Let me go!”

“That’s not part of the deal. You’re in America. That’s what you paid for. I have provided, you have received. Now it’s time for me to do what I do best.”

“No! Let me go! I don’t want this!”

“This is not about what you want. I want your life.” With that, I gagged the man and went to work, draining him of his fluids. It had to be done in the proper order and while the man was alive, or all the good taste and nutrients would slip away. It took some time for the man to lose enough energy to fall into the slumber before death. Before he did, he looked at me with accusatory eyes. They did not bother me. They did, however, tell me it was time to swap bottles and capture the less potent juices separately.

When he was dead and the juices were collected, I moved on to the girl. She didn’t wake until much later in the process, just before she was going to die. Her gaze was confused and frightened. That would make for a tasty treat. She too gave me the normal look humans always gave before their slumber and I traded bottles and continued until she was gone too.

With the work done, I added her most potent juices to the man’s, stirring them together. There was plenty to drink while I altered my appearance over the next few days. There’d be enough juice to keep me to keep me going for another ten years.

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