The Vampire | Part 2

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What you're about to hear is based
on actual events. Listener discretion is advised.
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It is getting cold out again,
he says, wrapping his fingers on
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the table. The woman, her
name is Ida, watches them over the
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rim of her beer glass. They
are the stubby, hard fingers of a
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working man, despite the posh way
he's dressed. Every strike of a finger
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tip against the wooden table is muffled
by the almost leathery pad of callous She
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raises the beer and takes a sip. Sooner enough it'll be snowy, perhaps,
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she replies, looking toward the exit. The place seemed popular enough when
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they arrived, but now the crowds
are dwindling. It's very warm here in
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Duseldorf. Though he gives her a
sudden, harsh look, not the first
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of the evening. He is handsome
of severe looking, but his eyes are
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the dullish, violent blue of a
terminally bored man. He seems almost not
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there at least, Ida says,
hoping to quell whatever bad feelings she might
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have evoked. That's what I've heard. Despite his oddness, the man had
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been nice to her. She'd lived
hand to mouth since the surrender. Working
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three hours from home by train.
In Bremen, the ruins of the post
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war Reich were filled with the starving, the humiliated, and the damned,
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and she was just lucky enough not
to be one of them. The man
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had seemed nice when he'd offered her
a beer and a bite to eat when
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he'd run into her on the train
platform, though the promised meal had been
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more beer than bread and meat.
Now her head was swimming, her face
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slightly warm against the bitter chill of
deep bottom. Would you like to go
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for a walk, he asks.
He does not bother looking at her.
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When he does so, his eyes
moving over the brick walls of the buildings
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outside the window. She follows them
to find what he's looking at, and
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sees nothing but the deepening evening shadows
pulling outside where the street lamps reach.
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I don't think so, she says, moving to stand, but she stops
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moving. His eyes are on hers, now glittering in the soft light of
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the table lamp. She swallows and
sits. The restaurant is terribly empty.
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She thinks of the hard hands on
the table, thick working man's hands creeping
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from the cuffs of a dandy suit. It's dark not so dark for a
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walk. Have you been to the
Coon's Blast? It's just through the half
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Garden, a truly beautiful building along
the rhine. He pauses for a long
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second, never looking away from her. She SIPs her beer, and maybe
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your last chance to see it,
you're so busy traveling the way you do.
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She finishes the beer in earnest and
looks around the restaurant again. I
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don't really want to, she says, I insist, he replies, her
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hands curled tighter around the glass.
I think it would be very classless of
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you to not accept my offer after
I treated you to a meal. Fine,
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she says, though softly. He
smiles, a slight curling of the
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lip beneath his tight mustache. He, like some other men she knows,
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has adopted the square's facial hair off
the leader of the growing National Socialist Workers
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Party, the magnetic air Hitler.
It looks good on him, she thinks,
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but like everything else about the man, it seems false, almost cultivated,
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like growth on a rock. Ida
accepts his offer begrudgingly, and they
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leave. Oh she makes one stop
beside a table where an older when that
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her husband are having dinner, Ida
tells the woman. She has a lovely
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scarf, and the woman distracted until
the moment she sees Ida's uncomfortable body language,
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thanks her for the compliment. And
you have such lovely hair, my
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dear, what a nice shade of
brown, the woman says, looking over
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Ida carefully. Thank you, Ida
says, perhaps a touch too earnestly.
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Then they are gone. Their steps
are loud on the tight streets leading between
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the old buildings and the hearts of
Dusseldorff. It is dark enough now that
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only the sky seems to have any
light left over the black canopy of trees
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in the hof garden. The park
is more like a tunnel now. At
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the end of the street, they
walk inside a short way and she pauses.
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The light of the street lamps do
not reach the man's eyes. I
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want to go back, she says. I'm sorry if it's rude, but
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I'm afraid of dark. He says
nothing, though he does stop walking.
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Now she can see only the most
stark planes of his face, yellow and
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still beneath the gentle brushing of the
leaves overhead, the rind so close now
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it's just a steady and noise.
Eventually he nods that's fine, he says,
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and she sighs with relief, turning
and walking quickly out of the woods.
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It is in the second that she
realizes he is not walking beside her
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that the pain comes intense, immediate, and then fading to a dull,
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non feeling more horrifyingly distant and simple
numbness. Her face is on the pavement.
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She realizes it is cold and covered
with sharp grit that rolls underneath her
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cheek bonus. She's dragged across it. She wants to close her eye,
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even half lit it as it is, but it won't respond. She feels
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like a drunk passenger looking out the
train windows of her own eyes. The
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painful scratching of the pavement gives way
to the softer rub of grass beneath her
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skin, Then again more pain as
the grass gives way to the dirt with
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rocks and roots of the shrubbery beside
the path. Then grass again, a
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meadow she knows, the one,
she has seen it before a dozen times.
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The man flips her over and she
is staring up at the sky,
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unable to focus on him or anything. There are no stars, but rather
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the gentle and broken crescents of low
clouds catching the city lights. He is
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a greater shadow inside of them,
infinitely black, an absence, and the
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soul of the universe that stands over
her maw open, ready to chew men's
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voices. She can hear men's voices
and their footfalls on the path where just
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moments ago she was walking with this
creature. She imagines herself screaming, and
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then the pause and sudden commotion as
the men realize what is happening and burst
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through the bushes and into the meadow. This dandy damn his workman's hands.
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He would see them coming, only
for a moment before they fell upon him,
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beating him senseless and dragging her back
out into the light. But her
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tongue is thick in her throat.
She cannot so much as whimper. Even
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still, the man puts his heavy
hand over her mouth while both of them
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listen, listen to the men and
last salvation. Striding away into the night,
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thinking only of the lights of Dusseldorf
and the taste of beer, perhaps,
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and not of what lingers in the
shadows beside the path. He removes
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his hand. She works to spit
up in her mouth as he watches her,
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his head cocking to the side like
a curious cat. Leave me in
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peace, she says, her words, more of a croak than anything,
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no louder in truth than the brushing
of tall heads of dry grass blowing in
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the october wind. He says nothing, and raises the hammer over his head.
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She can see that is what it
is. Ape of the thing is
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unmistakable. She thinks it is pitifully
small for what it has done to her
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square headed hammer. The black sides
of it are as dark against the skies
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all the rest of the man holding
it. Then it falls, and all
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else's paradise. She lays in pieces
upon the table, insides out and on
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display. Detective Pfiffer stands in the
doorway to the autopsy room, a handkerchief
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clapped over his mouth. His glare
flits from the Dener to Berg, and
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then he shakes his head. My
god, he says, what have you
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done to her? Cut her all
apart, it seems, the Dener says,
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in a mocking voice, drawing the
detective's glare as well as intensifying it.
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Have you honestly never seen the stages
of our work? Burgh asks,
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holding out his hands for the dener
to remove his gloves. They are slicked
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with bits of blackened blood and other
clearish, reddish fluids the detective can't quite
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place. Though the man has seen
the results of what feels like a half
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a million murders, the sight before
him is something to behold. The woman
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has been rendered down to her skeleton
in most places, sparing only her arms
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the legs beneath her hips. The
flesh in all other places is peeled back
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and held steady in some parts with
pins and weights. Her skull is clean,
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white, gleaming, and terribly terribly
broken. I fought in the war,
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The detective says, Oh, was
it terrible? Burgh asks off handedly.
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I'm sorry, Yes, the detective
says, now looking at him,
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and God knows, I've seen such
things between that and the lowest streets in
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the city that keep most men up
nights. This, though, this is
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beyond simple nightmares. Burg He steps
closer, looking the splaye open body over
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The dead woman's organs have been remanded
to waiste bags that lay in tidy piles
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inside her Torso it's the beauty of
it that stops me sometimes, Burg says,
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stepping up beside the detective. The
clockwork of all of us is quite
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incredible. No matter who we are, if we are born here or some
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of a country, or even South
America, we all operate in much the
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same fashion. A second, quick
or slow, but always on time till
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that final strike of the hour.
He points to the cratered remains of the
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woman's skull. Detective Fifer sees the
brain is no longer in place, and
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that the broken sections of skull have
been individually marked in alpha numeric fashion A
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twelve, B, three, C
six, all down to the pieces too
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small to number. They rest on
what seems to be a leather skein of
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water pressed into the skull to keep
them in place. Where's her brain?
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Fifer asks, Burg blinks and then
points to her chest cavity. Oh,
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in with all this, but it's
not when I brought you into see.
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Well, the damage to it is
the cause of death in this case.
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But that's all beside the point.
I wanted to show you this amidst the
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puzzle. Together ruins of the woman's
skull are several square impressions, all circled
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with black marker. They are numbered
in order from one to nine. Number
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four is clearly the most fatal,
Burke says, pointing to the marked circle
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with his pen. But any of
these should have killed her in time.
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Post mortem inspection of the brain showed
extraordinary contusions in the same position as these
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strike marks along the left side of
the skull. Moving from interior, he
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points to the closest strike marked two, and then moves to the furthest back
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marked one, all the way to
the posterior. His finger hovers over strike
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one. This strike in particular is
notable for the shape of the depression in
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the bone. Do you see how
the impression era isn't even how it's deeper
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alongside the interior edge. The detective
looks closer, holding up his thumb to
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match the angle of the depression in
the skull. Then he holds it up
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in front of his face, looking
at it a long while. Before talking,
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he touches the back of his head. She was hit from behind,
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then, detective fight for ass yes, Burke says, stepping back and swinging
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his right arm up into the right
slowly from his left hip like this,
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I believe, after pulling the weapon
from his coat or waistband possibly, and
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the angle of the impression suggests the
strike was perfectly level on a woman that
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tall, Detective Fiffer says to himself. He bends over the corpse and holds
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his arms to the side until they're
hovering over the corpse's toes and head.
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I guess the guy would have to
be about one point six one point seven
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meters. Then Burg nods and scratches
at his chin. I'd say, though
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she's a touch taller now, having
laid out like this for a while,
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he adds, finishing the sentence as
though only talking to himself. Anyhow,
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that brings us to strike number two. Here on the anterior skull, he
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pulls on a fresh glove and gingerly
folds a triangular piece of flesh back into
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the place of the dead woman's right
cheekbone. Fifer shifts uncomfortably when he sees
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a small freckle in the dead woman's
skin, but his attention moves quickly to
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the series of vertical scrapes running up
the side of the woman's face dragged,
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he guesses and Burg nods. The
officers on the scene already guessed she was
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moved to the banks of the rhine
after I guess finished, yes, Berg
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says, most of that was on
her back. However, these scratches are
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from before she died. I believe
the way the damaged skin was freely bleeding
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was obvious when we were cleaning her, which leads me to believe she was
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hit here strike one from the back. Then she fell and he dragged her
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I suppose somewhere more private, and
flipped her onto her back in the process.
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Detective Fiffer looks over the order of
the strikes. The two stands out
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starkly on the front of the head, so she's on her back and he's
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what kneeling or standing over her?
Then he hits her here He points to
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strike number two, and then her
head moves to the side and he starts
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hitting her repeatedly. Given the tight
grouping the flat angle of impact, Yes,
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I'd say he was kneeling over her, most likely straddling her here at
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the hips, Berg says, touching
his own flanks and flattening his doctor's coat
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in the process. He pauses,
I think he wouldn't finish her without being
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very close, as close as possible, really fighter size. So this is
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the same man. He looks the
woman's skull over one last time. I
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thought you said he was using scissors. Now he's got a hammer. Burg
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nods. Autopsy of the vaginal canal
showed some sexual assault occurred in the moments
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after death, just as with the
other female victims, he says, giving
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the corpse a somber look. Similar
wounds caused by fingernails scraping the interior walls,
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and the presence of some quantity of
seamen. Are you sure it's the
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same person? Each time, the
detective asks, there is a rhythm to
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these murders that doesn't occur with the
others that come across my table. Like
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the clockwork nature of the human organism, each of these killings is almost identical,
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save for a few errant seconds here
and there. In each case,
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there is an incapacitating strike or action. Most offense a single blow to the
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head in the area of the temple. But when the situation isn't right,
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I believe he defaults to strangulation.
Then he either drags the victim to a
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secluded place, or if it's private
enough, he begins his period of stunning
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violence. Burke points to the cluster
of blows that killed the woman, many
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stab wounds, many hammer blows,
in some cases, a prolonged and vicious
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strangulation, but always the period of
incredible violence. Burke says, he clasped
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his hands behind his back. This, I think is what he wants from
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them, or rather from the experience. This is why they are incapacitated first,
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so that this moment is clarified,
isolated, like saving your favorite bite
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of a sandwich for the absolute end
of your lunch. It is gratifying.
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He shakes his head and looks at
fightfer This causes sexual release for the assailant,
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and then the post mortem desecration of
the victim. Then there is usually
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some attempt to conceal the body,
sometimes burning, but often a dragging of
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the corpse to some low place.
But that's something most any criminal common or
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otherwise might do. He shrugs.
But that is the pattern ticking of this
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animal isolation of a victim, incapacitation, with a decisive solitary blow, further
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isolation, and then the furious murder
and sexual exploitation of the corpse. His
209
00:17:56.160 --> 00:18:03.680
gaze is intense. That is the
man we are looking for. Burg concludes
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Detective Fight for Size deeply and again
looks at the remains of the young woman.
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From this angle, the parts he
sees could belong to anything, anything
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at all. It's fascinating all that. The detective says, Too bad,
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you can't give me a hair color
from a hammer blow, or better yet,
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an a dress height is a good
start, but he's average at best
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in this city. Those hammer marks, though. He walks back to the
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head of the table and looks more
closely. How heavy do you think the
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thing was? Or I suppose is
Burg scratches his chin and looks at the
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ceiling. Well, the penetration of
the skull and soft tissue wasn't fairly significant,
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despite how slender the hammer head is. Might have to say it was
220
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a light hammer, probably just six
or seven hundred grams, possibly a kilo.
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But I'd have to say if he
couldn't do more damage than that with
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a kilogram hammer, then he wouldn't
have been capable of the strangulation damage I've
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00:19:00.920 --> 00:19:07.160
seen on the other bodies. A
light hammer swung very very hard, Phifer
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says, nodding. After a long
pause, he points at the wound.
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That's a riveting hammer then, or
maybe a bricklayers hammer. But I'd put
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my money on riveting. Maybe that's
where our man got his weapon. Burgh
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offers, possibly, but just as
likely he stole it from a construction site
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00:19:30.000 --> 00:19:34.240
our hell even found it in the
garbage. And there are far far more
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riveters out there than tailors. It'd
be impossible to check them all. Then,
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I'm afraid we are at the end
of my expertise, Detective Berg says,
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putting his masks back on and holding
it his hands to the diner for
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gloving. The man obliges him and
puts his own gloves on as well.
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I wish I could be of more
help. You've been helpful, Phifer says.
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At least we have some idea where
to look, though, God,
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I wish she were wrong about this
killer of yours. Of ours as well,
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00:20:11.119 --> 00:20:15.680
Detective Burke says, holding the dead
woman's face back into place over her
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skull. The stitchwork required to prepare
her for the metician will take the rest
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of the day. He calls to
fighter, who stops and turns, I
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00:20:23.680 --> 00:20:29.000
am sure, though, Detective,
I am sure, this man will,
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like a clock, continues striking midnight
until we've found some way to interrupt his
241
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cycle, and only death or captured. I think we'll do the trick with
242
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that. He turns to the corpse, of a woman once named Ida,
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and begins the long process of undoing
all his difficult work. The detective watches
244
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him a moment longer, and then
turns to the door, content to leave
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00:20:52.200 --> 00:21:22.759
him at that. The days flit
by with the same stuttering sort of flicker
246
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that sometimes blinds his eyes when the
headaches come. There are women throughout the
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winter, which grows dark and cold. For all the world is the great
248
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Western economies to collapse, one after
another, like dominoes. First falls America
249
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with its corrupt and Jewish controlled stock
exchanges. Then comes the rest of the
250
00:21:40.720 --> 00:21:45.400
Anglophone countries, the scions of the
soul rotted British Empire, and then the
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00:21:45.440 --> 00:21:48.680
rest of Europe. Few countries are
spared, weak as they already are from
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the reparations of the Great War,
the hungry and dispossessed filled the streets.
253
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It is like some great dam of
misery, held up only with mud and
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00:21:57.839 --> 00:22:03.599
sticks, suddenly broken and filled all
the gutters of Europe with blood. On
255
00:22:03.680 --> 00:22:07.720
every corner. There are Bolsheviks,
Communists, Marxists, socialists, Fascists,
256
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and dozens of smaller splinter organizations.
All of their ranks are filled with young,
257
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angry men and women, students,
disenfranchised veterans. The country never thanked
258
00:22:18.079 --> 00:22:23.160
his heroes villains wearing new shirts than
they did a decade ago, now forgiven
259
00:22:23.200 --> 00:22:29.880
and standing tall atop soap boxes.
Old President Hindenburg is increasingly frail and over
260
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eighty years old. Rumors are that
he is no longer in charge of the
261
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country, and that if he is, it is only nominally. More and
262
00:22:37.240 --> 00:22:42.319
more questions of national interest are being
settled by local leaders given autonomy through emergency
263
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declarations, and everywhere there is talk
of how much influence her Hitler, because
264
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minority National Democratic Socialist Party are beginning
to wield despite their small size. But
265
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people are more and more agreeing that
at least Hitler, with his mad ways
266
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and arresting charisma, with his laughable
policies and arguable understanding of history and law,
267
00:23:03.839 --> 00:23:08.279
They are agreeing that perhaps he may
be the only man in Germany who
268
00:23:08.279 --> 00:23:12.240
can open the factories. Again.
It is against the wall of one of
269
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these factories Peter stabs a young girl
to death. He does with her body
270
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what he does with the others,
often so tired by the time he finishes,
271
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he just wants to fall asleep,
but he doesn't. He never does.
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Peter's world is the insane flickering of
a broken movie projector his nights are
273
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dark and filled with the taste of
blood, the heady excitement of the kill.
274
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The economic collapse as littered the streets
with fresh meat for him, or
275
00:23:38.960 --> 00:23:42.559
once he had to exercise even a
little caution in his hunts. Now he
276
00:23:42.680 --> 00:23:48.559
prowls with abandon Within one day,
he kills two women on the same street
277
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corner ors he bludgeons with his little
hammer, or so he thinks, until
278
00:23:53.079 --> 00:23:56.079
he reads the paper the next day
and sees one of the women survived.
279
00:23:56.880 --> 00:24:00.680
More of them are doing that these
days because the hammer just doesn't have the
280
00:24:00.759 --> 00:24:07.799
effectiveness of the scissors they stabbed deep
and wounded badly. The hammer was small
281
00:24:07.920 --> 00:24:12.400
and light, effective, but only
to a point. He reads the paper
282
00:24:12.440 --> 00:24:17.039
every morning, now, marveling at
his deeds, creeping up from the front
283
00:24:17.079 --> 00:24:22.480
page to compete with the much more
important world news headlines proclaiming that the people's
284
00:24:22.480 --> 00:24:26.519
frustration with the police has reached its
limit, set beside and sometimes over top
285
00:24:26.599 --> 00:24:32.559
of articles about the deepening economic crisis
threatening to tear the world to pieces,
286
00:24:33.240 --> 00:24:37.200
possibly even setting off another great war. When it had ended, they had
287
00:24:37.200 --> 00:24:41.000
called at the war to end all
wars, those powers that be. But
288
00:24:41.079 --> 00:24:45.559
if they had the chance to follow
him on his nightly walks, to see
289
00:24:45.559 --> 00:24:49.039
the gripping power of the blood,
to hear the failing hearts beat their last
290
00:24:49.079 --> 00:24:53.960
and the steady sput sput sput of
blood from the wound, then they would
291
00:24:53.960 --> 00:24:59.640
know how foolish an idea that was. They would understand the purpose of blood
292
00:25:00.079 --> 00:25:03.720
to flow. He kills more women
throughout the winter, perhaps half of those
293
00:25:03.720 --> 00:25:08.160
he attacks. Some see it coming
even a mile away, But when he
294
00:25:08.200 --> 00:25:12.240
flashes a little coins and promises a
hot meal, the hunger is too much.
295
00:25:14.160 --> 00:25:17.559
He can see the common sense warnings
flashing behind their eyes. But still
296
00:25:17.599 --> 00:25:22.279
they come along. Still they obey, and he beats them, and he
297
00:25:22.400 --> 00:25:26.319
rapes them, and he kills them, and he comes home and cleans up,
298
00:25:26.319 --> 00:25:30.319
and then does all again. It
is at a point where he doesn't
299
00:25:30.359 --> 00:25:33.240
quite know if he enjoys it anymore
the way he did in the early days,
300
00:25:34.039 --> 00:25:37.319
when it was fresh and new to
him, the steady taking of lives
301
00:25:37.319 --> 00:25:42.119
and the release that followed. He
cannot even pinpoint when the best of days
302
00:25:42.279 --> 00:25:48.359
was, but he is sure he
can never stop. He does not see
303
00:25:48.680 --> 00:25:52.160
how it is possible, or why
he would even try. They may never
304
00:25:52.240 --> 00:25:56.440
catch him, and things are only
getting more insane in the streets, more
305
00:25:56.519 --> 00:26:00.359
chaotic. The brown shirt gangs start
fights with the Communists and Jews in the
306
00:26:00.440 --> 00:26:03.680
streets, shedding as much blood and
a night as he does in a month.
307
00:26:04.519 --> 00:26:08.160
The police must contend with this,
and also with common hungry men murdering
308
00:26:08.240 --> 00:26:14.440
for food, common hungry women being
murdered for food. Children he's never seen
309
00:26:14.519 --> 00:26:18.920
nor touched, going missening for reasons
unknown to normal citizens, but that he
310
00:26:18.000 --> 00:26:22.880
understands. There are others like him
in this age of electric lights and deep
311
00:26:22.920 --> 00:26:27.039
city escapes. He can feel them
out there, and as sure they can
312
00:26:27.079 --> 00:26:32.400
feel him as well. He sees
their work and the papers beside his own,
313
00:26:32.440 --> 00:26:34.839
sometimes knowing it for what it is, even if the police, the
314
00:26:34.880 --> 00:26:40.759
newspaper men, and everybody else doesn't. He can see the passion, the
315
00:26:40.960 --> 00:26:45.559
rage, the ecstasy in the spaces
between the lines and thirty years of this
316
00:26:45.599 --> 00:26:49.799
new century. There is no doubt
that something has shifted. There is an
317
00:26:49.880 --> 00:26:55.039
uncapped hole in the heart of the
world now, a hole from which monsters
318
00:26:55.079 --> 00:26:57.799
creep, loose, to eat and
drip and tear, and to take.
319
00:27:00.039 --> 00:27:03.839
He reads the paper, yes,
and he knows he's not alone. What
320
00:27:03.960 --> 00:27:07.880
are you smiling about? His wife
hides him from her place at the sink.
321
00:27:08.839 --> 00:27:11.359
He looks up at her over the
steam of the trouser pocket. He
322
00:27:11.400 --> 00:27:15.279
is mending his beloved hammer, so
faithful until he broke it over the skull
323
00:27:15.319 --> 00:27:21.400
of some skulking and now dead.
Horror is irretrievably gone. He has gone
324
00:27:21.400 --> 00:27:26.039
back to his old scissors, but
had forgotten the night before and accidentally pierced
325
00:27:26.079 --> 00:27:30.160
his pocket with the things. After
using them, The papers told him the
326
00:27:30.200 --> 00:27:33.160
woman had lived, which he thinks
is insane considering how badly he stabbed her.
327
00:27:33.200 --> 00:27:38.960
But some things couldn't be helped.
Thinking of friends, he says,
328
00:27:40.839 --> 00:27:42.680
they might laugh if I told him
how I got this foolish hole in my
329
00:27:42.759 --> 00:27:47.960
pocket. He sticks his finger through
it and wiggles it at her. She
330
00:27:48.039 --> 00:27:52.359
laughs, though she might not if
she saw the bloodstains he'd cleaned away before
331
00:27:52.400 --> 00:27:56.839
she got home. Are you going
out tonight? She asks, just a
332
00:27:56.920 --> 00:28:00.640
short walk, most likely, he
says. My head is feeling better lately.
333
00:28:02.440 --> 00:28:07.279
It is to a degree he is
medicating himself in his way with abandon
334
00:28:08.279 --> 00:28:12.359
In truth, he can hardly feel
anything at all. Mostly just a sort
335
00:28:12.400 --> 00:28:18.039
of giddy euphoria. They chat for
a while, though he can remember nothing
336
00:28:18.119 --> 00:28:21.839
of the talk. Later, his
mind drifts, as it always does when
337
00:28:21.839 --> 00:28:25.839
he's trying to find a victim,
And find a victim he does, though
338
00:28:25.880 --> 00:28:30.319
she's somebody else's prey. At the
moment, he thinks of his earlier hypothesis
339
00:28:30.359 --> 00:28:34.160
that there are others like him,
and realizes that is what he is witnessing
340
00:28:34.240 --> 00:28:38.119
in action. The woman has all
the body language of the future victim,
341
00:28:38.359 --> 00:28:44.119
rank confusion as she clutches her oversized
bag against her and looks over the buildings
342
00:28:44.119 --> 00:28:48.200
around her. It's a sort of
bag a woman takes traveling to a city
343
00:28:48.240 --> 00:28:52.240
for a few days. Peter knows, which she thinks won't make her stand
344
00:28:52.240 --> 00:28:56.759
out as transient. Peter follows them
down alleys and around street corners. Though
345
00:28:56.759 --> 00:29:00.680
the area is well lit, he
knows it is all but abandoned. He
346
00:29:00.920 --> 00:29:04.880
in fact passes at least one of
his own old blood stains on the ground
347
00:29:04.960 --> 00:29:10.039
as he walks. This is gone, now washed away by time and rain,
348
00:29:10.680 --> 00:29:14.400
but he remembers it, and that
is all that matters. Then it
349
00:29:14.440 --> 00:29:18.559
happens the balance of the walk ahead
of him changes. The man grabs the
350
00:29:18.559 --> 00:29:22.519
woman above her elbow and tries to
drag her down an embankment. He will
351
00:29:22.559 --> 00:29:26.559
have her in a second. The
way he's using the angle of the ground
352
00:29:26.559 --> 00:29:30.400
to leverage her off her feet,
Peter can see something of himself and the
353
00:29:30.400 --> 00:29:33.960
man technique is not rough or ill
practiced. This girl will be raped,
354
00:29:34.240 --> 00:29:41.720
possibly worse without intervention. Hey,
he says, almost failing to stifle a
355
00:29:41.799 --> 00:29:45.920
laugh. This is more exciting by
far than one of his average killings.
356
00:29:47.559 --> 00:29:51.839
It is the mad dash at another
predator's meal. He crips the scissors in
357
00:29:51.880 --> 00:29:55.680
his pocket, not knowing what to
expect, but moving forward with eyes wide
358
00:29:55.680 --> 00:30:00.880
and glittering in the street light.
Help. The woman calls. It is
359
00:30:00.920 --> 00:30:04.200
the first time he's ever heard the
cry directed in his direction, and by
360
00:30:04.200 --> 00:30:07.519
far the first time he's ever seen
it answered. Hey, now, what
361
00:30:07.559 --> 00:30:11.640
are you up to? He asks. There is a confused moment where the
362
00:30:11.640 --> 00:30:15.799
man looks at him, really looks, and Peter is sure he sees a
363
00:30:15.839 --> 00:30:21.799
feral sort of recognition there. The
woman tells Peter her name is Maria and
364
00:30:21.920 --> 00:30:25.519
that she doesn't know the man he
is supposed to be leading her to his
365
00:30:25.599 --> 00:30:29.960
sister's address, but Peter clarifies the
address in questions on the other side of
366
00:30:30.000 --> 00:30:34.599
town. The man looks them both
over Peter much longer and then leaves quietly.
367
00:30:36.440 --> 00:30:40.839
Shit, we just let him go, Maria asks. Peter shakes his
368
00:30:40.880 --> 00:30:44.880
head and gives some excuse, but
in truth he can't be bothered with the
369
00:30:44.920 --> 00:30:48.599
police. That the woman never asks
him why he's in a deserted part of
370
00:30:48.640 --> 00:30:53.200
town this time of night almost sets
him into a fit of hysterics. Almost
371
00:30:55.200 --> 00:30:59.680
Maria tells him a story he's heard
time and again that he already knew she
372
00:30:59.720 --> 00:31:03.400
would tell him before she started talking. She is a stranger in town looking
373
00:31:03.400 --> 00:31:07.319
for work in a place to sleep. The man took advantage of her,
374
00:31:07.799 --> 00:31:11.680
telling her she could sleep at his
sister's place while looking for work. Such
375
00:31:11.720 --> 00:31:17.160
a tragedy. Peter surprises himself by
asking if she'd like to stay at his
376
00:31:17.240 --> 00:31:22.000
house there is he thinks the possibility
she'll fuck him as thanks for rescuing her.
377
00:31:22.720 --> 00:31:26.359
That is the least he could expect, he figures, given what he's
378
00:31:26.559 --> 00:31:30.519
likely saved her from, If the
man she'd been with was half his equal,
379
00:31:30.880 --> 00:31:36.680
it would have been terribly, terribly
rough. But she says she won't
380
00:31:36.720 --> 00:31:40.200
sleep with him. When they arrive
at the stairs to his apartment, nervously
381
00:31:40.279 --> 00:31:44.480
rubbing the space above her elbow.
She apologizes for this, but tells him
382
00:31:44.519 --> 00:31:48.920
she's not that kind of girl.
Then she asks if there's another place he
383
00:31:48.000 --> 00:31:52.880
might be able to take her to
sleep. Sure, he says, regretting
384
00:31:52.920 --> 00:31:56.200
taking the risk of bringing this woman
here while his wife is at work.
385
00:31:56.960 --> 00:32:00.599
I've got somewhere I can take you. They go to the tram station and
386
00:32:00.759 --> 00:32:06.599
ride until he's sure she's lost.
It is all working perfectly until he bumps
387
00:32:06.599 --> 00:32:09.920
into Marco, a drunk who picks
up the occasional job at Peter's work site.
388
00:32:10.880 --> 00:32:15.680
Peter had thought very little of Maria
till she pushes past him to shake
389
00:32:15.720 --> 00:32:21.000
the man's hand, repeating her name
at least twice when introducing herself. Marco
390
00:32:21.039 --> 00:32:23.759
gives her an odd, long look, and then pats Peter's shoulder and finds
391
00:32:23.759 --> 00:32:28.319
a seat on the other side of
the tram. Peter walks her through a
392
00:32:28.359 --> 00:32:32.160
mostly desolate part of Dusseldorf, finally
walking her past the last of the houses
393
00:32:32.400 --> 00:32:37.759
out of the light. He stands
quietly for a long time, thinking about
394
00:32:37.759 --> 00:32:43.200
her, feeling the old urges replacing
the temporary rush of playing hero. He
395
00:32:43.319 --> 00:32:46.440
looks at her, and she opens
her mouth to say something, maybe to
396
00:32:46.480 --> 00:32:52.920
ask where exactly he is taking her. He wraps his hands around her throat
397
00:32:52.119 --> 00:32:59.000
and squeezes hard. Her fingers claw
at the back of his hands, trying
398
00:32:59.000 --> 00:33:01.680
in vain to pull them away.
Her face is turning red, her head
399
00:33:01.839 --> 00:33:07.680
his back, face raised to the
sky. Shut up, he says,
400
00:33:07.400 --> 00:33:12.240
just shut up and let me do
this. The urge to finish her as
401
00:33:12.319 --> 00:33:15.480
faint, though his mind is wandering
to the thought of her standing in front
402
00:33:15.480 --> 00:33:21.839
of his apartment door, of her
introducing herself to that idiot Marco. Then
403
00:33:21.880 --> 00:33:25.160
he lets her go. She stumbles
away from him, coughing and holding her
404
00:33:25.160 --> 00:33:30.759
hands up. It's something I have
to do, he tells her. I
405
00:33:30.880 --> 00:33:36.319
can't help it. He clears his
throat and points at his own neck,
406
00:33:36.640 --> 00:33:40.559
looking around the street. Would you
like to do it to me? You
407
00:33:40.640 --> 00:33:45.279
could say, we're either, oh, she says between coughs. Are you
408
00:33:46.480 --> 00:33:52.200
Are you okay? He asks,
yes, she says, She keeps her
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00:33:52.200 --> 00:33:57.240
eyes on the pavement. There is
no possible way to kill her. He
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00:33:57.279 --> 00:34:01.119
knows none at all, and we're
of all he urged to do what is
411
00:34:01.160 --> 00:34:08.719
gone faded as though it was never
there. He feels impotent. Well,
412
00:34:08.760 --> 00:34:15.880
then, he says, welcome to
Dusseldorf. I suppose good luck finding employment.
413
00:34:16.760 --> 00:34:20.639
He pauses for a long while,
and they both look at each other.
414
00:34:21.519 --> 00:34:42.079
I'm leaving, he says, and
he does. I thought she'd leave
415
00:34:42.119 --> 00:34:46.199
well enough alone, Peter says,
leaning against the wall of the cell.
416
00:34:47.199 --> 00:34:51.719
But it wasn't even a week I
think before I walked out of my apartment
417
00:34:51.760 --> 00:34:55.440
for work and saw her down there
in the street. I felt the urge,
418
00:34:55.519 --> 00:34:59.960
then believed me. But it was
broad daylight. What could I do?
419
00:35:00.119 --> 00:35:06.440
Burg nods and jots down notes on
his pad as Peter talks, never
420
00:35:06.519 --> 00:35:12.960
interrupting save to keep the conversation on
track. Peter raises his hands and wriggles
421
00:35:12.960 --> 00:35:17.840
the shackles enough to make noise.
Aside from those accessories, he looks as
422
00:35:17.880 --> 00:35:24.039
well kept as ever, every hair
in place, even his prison uniform is
423
00:35:24.039 --> 00:35:30.519
almost military in its appearance. What
sparks it? Is there a specific trigger
424
00:35:30.559 --> 00:35:37.519
to this urge? Burg asks,
Peter chuckles, you may as well ask
425
00:35:37.599 --> 00:35:44.239
me why I get thirsty or hungry. There is the need in the sensations
426
00:35:44.280 --> 00:35:51.480
of filling it, of it being
unfulfilled. My stomach has limits. I
427
00:35:51.480 --> 00:35:54.360
can only drink and eat so much. But the limits on the urge itself,
428
00:35:55.119 --> 00:36:00.199
my need for killing, for pain, those were merely the limits of
429
00:36:00.239 --> 00:36:05.559
my person. If I were in
charge of a rail station, I would
430
00:36:05.559 --> 00:36:10.119
derail trains and stand beside the wreckage, eyes closed and ears open, listening
431
00:36:10.159 --> 00:36:15.920
to the stifling whales of the dying. If I were in charge of this
432
00:36:15.159 --> 00:36:22.199
country, God that thinks I might
accomplish, so there's no enmity. It's
433
00:36:22.199 --> 00:36:29.159
impersonal. I wouldn't say that either, He continues. It feels terribly personal.
434
00:36:30.360 --> 00:36:34.199
The connection is more absolute in my
mind than between say, a mother
435
00:36:34.400 --> 00:36:42.360
and her child. That's a fairly
extraordinary claim, Burg says. Think how
436
00:36:42.360 --> 00:36:45.880
many of my victims had mothers that
love them? Then, ken on your
437
00:36:45.880 --> 00:36:52.559
fingers, how many that love saved? Peter says flatly. Burg nods begrudgingly,
438
00:36:52.639 --> 00:36:57.519
and then jots a few additional notes
in his book. But there's nothing
439
00:36:57.559 --> 00:37:02.000
in your childhood something like that,
Burg asks. Peter rests his head against
440
00:37:02.039 --> 00:37:07.679
the wall and closes his eyes.
My father would rape my sister's casually most
441
00:37:07.800 --> 00:37:14.960
nights, he says. The words
come out automatically. These were not madly
442
00:37:15.239 --> 00:37:19.719
violent acts. Such as in my
own later life, but such simple and
443
00:37:19.800 --> 00:37:24.039
commonplace atrocities they escape the notice of
anyone who might have intervened on our behalf.
444
00:37:24.960 --> 00:37:29.920
I was forced into congress with my
sisters as well, at father's orders,
445
00:37:29.920 --> 00:37:34.599
and I enjoyed it more when they
squirmed. I didn't want to do
446
00:37:34.639 --> 00:37:37.559
it to them, but I would
be beaten until I did, and so
447
00:37:37.840 --> 00:37:42.400
in this way I was punishing them
for the inconvenience that caused me as well.
448
00:37:43.360 --> 00:37:47.400
He touches the links on his wrists. I've told you about the goose,
449
00:37:47.760 --> 00:37:52.880
I know, but that was something
of a one off experience. I
450
00:37:52.880 --> 00:37:58.360
would more often sneak onto the farms
and neighbors to fuck their livestock. Sheep
451
00:37:58.400 --> 00:38:01.719
were perfect because they were just the
right height. If they kicked, you
452
00:38:01.840 --> 00:38:07.599
wouldn't outright break your leg. I
would stab them with a little pen knife.
453
00:38:07.679 --> 00:38:10.800
I kept on my person and then
let them drag me around until I
454
00:38:10.920 --> 00:38:16.800
finished. He pauses for a long
time, looking hard at Burg. Does
455
00:38:16.920 --> 00:38:22.840
none of this bother you, Peter
asks, Burg raises his eyebrows and then
456
00:38:22.880 --> 00:38:27.239
removes his glasses. He nibbles at
the end of one arm for a moment,
457
00:38:27.320 --> 00:38:34.679
looking at the ceiling yes and no, Burg finally says, replacing his
458
00:38:34.800 --> 00:38:39.440
glasses. It's all disgraceful and disgusting
what you've done. I feel for both
459
00:38:39.440 --> 00:38:45.880
the victims you've debased as well as
you. He pauses, tapping his pen
460
00:38:45.039 --> 00:38:50.159
on the page in his book.
Despite all my hard work, all the
461
00:38:50.159 --> 00:38:52.960
hard work of the detectives, it
wasn't the authorities that caught you, not
462
00:38:53.119 --> 00:39:01.320
really, it was just coincidence.
You stand and stretches, checking his wrist
463
00:39:01.400 --> 00:39:07.400
watch. I believe there is something
wrong with you. In fact, I
464
00:39:07.480 --> 00:39:15.159
know there's something wrong, but not
what it is. Perhaps when I open
465
00:39:15.199 --> 00:39:19.239
you up after your execution, I'll
be able to find some clue poking around
466
00:39:19.239 --> 00:39:23.079
in that brain of yours. Peter
raises his eyes at this, but doesn't
467
00:39:23.119 --> 00:39:28.760
interrupt. You don't save a nation
from a virulent disease with the cure,
468
00:39:29.199 --> 00:39:35.440
most often, but with a vaccination. Maybe we'll develop something of that nature
469
00:39:35.559 --> 00:39:40.519
from studying you. A nice thought. In any case, Peter says,
470
00:39:42.280 --> 00:39:45.360
there are others like me out there, you know, and I don't think
471
00:39:45.480 --> 00:39:50.280
things would have ended much differently for
me if I'd been raised in an orphanage
472
00:39:50.400 --> 00:39:55.320
or by some wealthy, loving family. Whatever is in me is in me,
473
00:39:57.199 --> 00:40:00.480
just as it is in them out
there. Doctor, You've only got
474
00:40:00.519 --> 00:40:05.679
to read the morning paper to see
how true it is. Burg moves to
475
00:40:05.719 --> 00:40:08.960
the door, and Peter calls to
him one last time. Tell me,
476
00:40:09.159 --> 00:40:14.480
doctor, Burg, before you open
me up. When they cut off my
477
00:40:14.599 --> 00:40:17.880
head, might I still be able
to hear and see? He asks.
478
00:40:19.559 --> 00:40:22.960
Burd turns to him. There is, so, I'm evidence the brain retains
479
00:40:22.960 --> 00:40:27.840
most functionality for a few seconds after
the head is severed by the guillotine.
480
00:40:28.519 --> 00:40:32.760
Burg says, I suppose in that
case you'll hear and see quite a lot.
481
00:40:34.519 --> 00:40:38.480
He pauses, fairly savage when you
think about it. So I will
482
00:40:38.519 --> 00:40:43.199
be able to hear the blood spurting
from my own neck as I die,
483
00:40:44.079 --> 00:40:49.239
Peter says to himself. As Burgh
leaves, that will be the pleasure to
484
00:40:49.360 --> 00:40:54.440
end all pleasures. The guard leads
Burg out of the Labyrinth prison to the
485
00:40:54.480 --> 00:41:00.400
more brightly lit front desk. The
Deaner is waiting for Burg a lunch date
486
00:41:00.440 --> 00:41:06.039
like the ones they used to have, though referring to the Deaner as anything
487
00:41:06.159 --> 00:41:10.960
but her platts would now be rude. He has moved up far in the
488
00:41:12.000 --> 00:41:16.320
world since Curtain's arrest, though that
had little, if anything to do with
489
00:41:16.400 --> 00:41:23.360
it. No, a far more
persuasive power now guides or Platts. Her
490
00:41:23.440 --> 00:41:28.960
Burgh, he says, smiling and
raising a hand to his old mentor.
491
00:41:29.960 --> 00:41:36.639
Platts is wearing a sharp black suit, replete with an almost military short haircut
492
00:41:37.000 --> 00:41:43.480
and a bronze cross shaped badge on
his left lapel. Before Burg can respond,
493
00:41:44.039 --> 00:41:45.960
the guard at the front desk,
whom Platts has been speaking to,
494
00:41:46.199 --> 00:41:53.599
stands and extends his arms straight out
to Burghil Hitler, he says, snapping
495
00:41:53.599 --> 00:42:00.360
his boot heels together. The greeting
stops Burg in his tracks, opens his
496
00:42:00.440 --> 00:42:05.960
mouth slightly, and gives his former
deaner Platts a confused look. The guard,
497
00:42:06.079 --> 00:42:10.679
meanwhile, begins to stare at berg
Or not returning the greeting. Ah
498
00:42:10.800 --> 00:42:16.360
Hitler, Plot says, Returning the
guard's salute, he touches the younger man
499
00:42:16.519 --> 00:42:22.079
on the shoulder. Herr Berg isn't
a party member, not yet at least,
500
00:42:22.079 --> 00:42:25.559
but he's a good and honest chairman. Platts smiles, and the guard
501
00:42:25.639 --> 00:42:31.480
follows suit, nodding to them and
then sitting to resume his duties. Our
502
00:42:31.599 --> 00:42:38.199
things, Bird tells him how things
are, though he feels slightly disoriented.
503
00:42:38.400 --> 00:42:45.400
As they walk he thinks of curtain
and the awful man's warning of their being
504
00:42:45.440 --> 00:42:51.679
others like him out there. What
he said he'd be capable of if he
505
00:42:51.760 --> 00:42:59.800
ever had an entire country under his
thumbs instead of just another scared woman alone
506
00:43:00.559 --> 00:43:22.119
in the dark. Monstro is an
incongruity production. If you've enjoyed this experience,
507
00:43:22.320 --> 00:43:25.920
please subscribe and leave a positive review. Please support our sponsors. You
508
00:43:25.960 --> 00:43:30.719
can find out more by searching for
Monstro podcast on Facebook, Twitter, and
509
00:43:30.840 --> 00:43:37.800
Instagram, or visit us at Monstro
podcast dot com. The show was written
510
00:43:37.840 --> 00:43:42.599
and hosted by Jack Luna, Tyler
Bell, and Mike Boudet. Sound designed
511
00:43:42.599 --> 00:43:49.000
by Jonathan McMichael and Robert Rivelli.
Original score by Leon Rogers, Art by
512
00:43:49.119 --> 00:44:00.599
Jake Perez. Executive producer Mike Boudet.