The Janus Project (ONC 2020 - LGBTQ)

5. The Butcher

(Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Nyhterides and her ONC story Savage. Always dark, but beautifully poetic, her stories are captivating!)

~~~

The Butcher stood over the sink, taps running, turning the wet axe between his hands, making sure every last drop of blood was washed away. The largest of his two knives—and the one he had used that evening—lay nearby on the bench top, drying on a clean white cloth. The Butcher was naked, having already bathed, twice. Not for the first time, he wished this damn place had a shower. A bath just wasn't the same.

Much as he enjoyed the actual bloodletting, he liked to be clean, afterwards. He felt it was important.

At first, when the papers called him "The Butcher," he'd been quite upset. He would have preferred "The Surgeon," he thought, much more dignified. But then he'd realised that both professions were equally bloody. When he had time to think about it, perhaps "Butcher" did sound more powerful. And in his case, it was certainly more accurate.

He still couldn't believe how easy it had been tonight. Jenkins had let him in without question, glad to share a drink with someone on New Year's Eve, even a recent acquaintance. They'd only known each other a week or so, both employees of the Hardwick Engineering Company.

Jenkins had foolishly opened the door wide, peering out into the night.

"Is that you, Miller? What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter, but I saw your light was on and I wondered whether you might be up for a drink, seeing it's New Year's Eve."

"Of course. Come in, man, come in. What brings you to this part of town?" Jenkins led the way into his kitchen, he hadn't even asked about the heavy bag of tools Miller was carrying. What a stupid fool, the idiot deserved to die.

The Butcher answered anyway, talking while he eased the knife from its pocket inside his coat.

"Just finishing up a last minute job. Boiler at the hospital burst a gasket and they needed it fixed tonight. Urgent."

Jenkins was nodding in agreement, "I thought it must have been something pretty important to get you out on New Year's Eve. But the hospital, well that's an emergency really isn't it? And you'll get double the rate of pay, I should imagine!" he chuckled. "Just put your bag down anywhere. I'll get you a glass. Whisky okay?"

Before he finished turning around, the knife went in hard, right between his ribs.

"Wha-" Jenkins' shocked protest turned into a guttural groan as Miller pulled out the knife and struck again. And again.

Jenkins collapsed on the floor, unmoving except for the slight rise and fall of his chest, and the blood pouring out from his back.

Smiling, the Butcher bent and pulled the axe from his bag.

~~~

When he finished, he picked up the head by its hair, surprised at the weight. Although this was far from his first kill, it was the first time he'd decapitated anyone. And it felt good. Powerful.

Jenkins' eyes were wide open, lifeless. The Butcher opened the wooden door to the icebox and arranged the still dripping head inside, making sure it faced outward, to give the person who next opened the icebox maximum impact.

These little touches were important. They were what made him unique.

He strode over to the sink, making sure to avoid stepping in the blood which was spreading fast across the floor. Hastily he washed his face, hands and arms, cleaning off the worst of it. His coat was splashed, but that was soon solved by turning it inside out. He couldn't do anything about his soaked trousers but the material was black and he didn't think anyone would notice anything unusual in the dark. He wrapped the axe in the towel he'd brought, replaced it in his bag along with the knife and paused for a moment in the doorway, checking that he had left no clues for the police to find.

The local fuzz might not have access to the high-tech resources he was familiar with, but there was no reason to get sloppy.

Now, safely back home in his own bathroom, he wondered whether he had been quite wise to take someone so close to him. Not that Jenkins had been more than a casual work colleague but still... there was a connection.

The local police would be at the Engineering works tomorrow, sniffing around for information. Jenkins lived alone, it wasn't as if he had a close family to divert attention. Though, considering the level of violence he'd inflicted, the Butcher was pretty confident they'd attribute the crime to a random stranger, a "madman." He smiled at his reflection. If only they knew!

Mind you, he didn't look this way at work. No, wearing thick-lensed spectacles to distort his eyes, his shoulders slightly hunched and cheap clothes one size too large, he was a man all too easy to discount.

His momentary qualms vanished. Let the police interview him, he'd play the timid employee, shocked at the terrible fate that had overtaken his colleague.

After all, he'd been playing this role successfully for over a month now. No-one had even suspected he was an imposter. That the real Keith Miller lay buried in the cellar below.