The Renfield Syndrome by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 43

Until he could find a place to buy camping supplies, Caspian was forced to sleep in his car. Attempting to keep the inside warm, he lit a small fire while leaving the back door open. It worked, but only for a short time, leaving him to spend most nights with his jacket thrown over him. Food was not a problem. With the store just down the main road, he could drive there whenever he needed to. There was, however, one looming concern. Soon the lake area would be buzzing with activity, and while this would provide him with new targets, it would also raise the chances of being caught. But with Peck Lake devoid of people, Caspian began to feel a type of withdrawal he had not expected. Although he had taken the lives of two people, he began to feel a compulsion for blood and craved the sensation of warm tissue dripping from his mouth. Maintaining self-control turned out to be more difficult as time went on. He considered trapping animals for their blood, but lacking knowledge adequate for the task left him trembling slightly. During the day he could explore the area, breaking into cabins looking for anything to aid his survival. The first item was, of course, a blanket. This was easy to find, as nearly every cabin held several. Next, he searched for food. This proved to be more difficult, as when most people left for the fall, they ordinarily took any remaining food with them.

Over the next few days, Caspian began losing weight in spite of having a ready supply of food just down the road. What he needed was protein. Without it, he would starve. One morning he got out of his car after a troublesome night’s sleep, and getting to his feet, began stretching the kinks out when he thought he heard the faint sound of a car. It could have been passing by the area, or it could be the season’s first guests. Leaving his makeshift camp, he walked to the edge of the woods and, scanning the lakeshore, found several cars, trucks, and boats parked in front of some nearby cabins. He had decided long ago that people were much like insects, and as the boot of judgment, he felt obligated to stomp them out. It was this he had exercised when dispatching the abusive teacher, fulfilling his own needs at the same time. Now, Caspian anticipated an influx of campers and vacationers, but as much as he again craved the taste of warm blood, he was forced to move on. As most people arriving to this area populated around their cabins, Caspian chose to hide within the silence of the woods. His presence alone could raise suspicions, as anyone who saw him would ask why he was living there. He had no choice but to leave and would do so late at night. The only downside to his nocturnal escape was the air. As night sets in, the air becomes cooler and thinner, allowing sound to travel farther. The sound of a small animal becomes noticeably louder, but the sound of a car slowly rolling out of the woods would be much more obvious. This was Caspian’s only concern, but considering other alternatives, he discovered there were none. He would have to take his chances and proceed as quietly as possible. As he turned to return to his car, he was surprised to see a red light suddenly reflect off the trees in front of him. Throwing himself to the ground, he lay there as the light became more intense. Whatever its source, it was getting closer, and as Caspian raised his head to investigate further, he noticed a police car pulling over to the side of the road. Once the engine had been shut off, two uniformed officers stepped out and approaching the tree line, they aimed the beams of their flashlights into the woods. Many times the trees, even though they may be sparse, can be numerous enough that light is unable to penetrate through them. The same is true with sound. If someone becomes lost, yelling for help becomes pointless as sound takes on a quality similar to light. The panicked voice of the missing goes unheard due to the density of trees making rescue unlikely. Not wanting to be seen, Caspian thought it best to move away from the lights as soon as their crimson beams shone in a different direction. He wondered if the officers would try to make their way into the woods and perhaps discover where he had been living for the past few weeks. With authorities still looking for their murder suspect, if Caspian were to be found, he would certainly be considered a prime suspect and likely detained. This did not sit well with him, as he enjoyed his freedom and needed it in order to continue exercising his judgment on those who seemed unwilling to live a kind life.

Retreating away from the lights of authority, he settled down into an area of dense brush. It seemed like hours until the red lights disappeared, but Caspian knew this was sometimes a ruse performed to trick someone into thinking it was safe to reveal themselves. So for the next three hours he remained frozen in place, hoping the officers had returned to their vehicle. But as the night darkened, Caspian dared himself to look around the woods and saw nothing, heard nothing. The only sound he did hear was the rushing of blood through the arteries of his neck, past his ears, accompanied by the beating of his heart, growing louder with each passing minute. Soon he found his way to the edge of the road only to discover the absence of any vehicle. Looking in both directions, he could see neither vehicles nor people.

“They gave up,” he whispered. Knowing that the influx of campers would soon increase, Caspian decided that this was the best opportunity to leave the area, and rushing back to his car, he took out a map of the area. He studied the many roads, highways, and trails that ran through the southern Adirondacks and found that most were fairly circuitous, but this could be to his advantage should he be followed. But in order for that to be successful, Caspian would need to have the map committed to memory. For now, he felt the best direction to go in was north. This would take him along the western edge of the Adirondacks and eventually toward the Saint Lawrence River. But with the populated area being so sparse, keeping his gas tank full would be difficult in spite of having ample cash on hand. An hour into the woods, Caspian finally reached his small makeshift camp. He had already put the fire out before leaving for the edge of the woods and began loading what few supplies he had into the back seat. Once behind the wheel, he started the engine, put the car in gear, and slowly drove out of the woods. Not wanting to make any more noise than was necessary, he kept the lights off as well and found his way by moonlight. Occasionally glancing up at the night sky, he took notice of the full moon. There was something about it that seemed to stir his soul, bringing to life some primeval force, an energy that he soaked up, ready to use both for his survival as well as the dispatching of any future targets he would encounter. He didn’t think of them as human or having lives of their own. Should he bear witness to someone’s abuse, their lack of humanity suddenly made them nothing more than a target—something to be eliminated. Caspian never thought about the method he was using. Biting off a body part or two seemed natural and something the inhumane were well deserving of. It was something he never thought about, but he believed that women should be nurturing, and when their behavior demonstrated otherwise, he saw it almost as his divine duty to bring judgment upon them in the most horrific manner possible. Not that he believed in God; he had simply come to see himself as God upholding his bizarre morals for swift, excruciating punishment.