A Broken World

Forty-Four

The man standing in front of me was so familiar because he was one of the many criminals that I've put away. He's in here because I put him in here. But that's not what has my heart pounding in my chest, hairs standing on end on the back of my neck and arms. No, what had me terrified was this man was on death row. How the fuck did he get out?

“Rick, I need a word. Now!” I walked towards the door that led outside so we were far enough away. T-dog and Daryl watched the prisoners. “That man over there…he's dangerous. He is very very dangerous. I don't know how he got out, but he was on death row.” Rick looked over at where the prisoners stood, staring at us. “How do you know this?” He asked.

“Because…because I'm the one who put him in here. I was the one who caught him. You don't want him around Lori, Maggie, Carol, or Beth. He's a murderer, Rick, a serial killer who killed women; eighteen being the youngest to forty-five being the oldest. He even stalked me for a while during the time we were investigating the murders. “I was his type”. And these murders were gruesome. We need to kill him. In fact, we need to kill them all.”

“Follow me!” Rick yelled to the prisoners. “We'll take care of it,” he said and pulled the door open. T-Dog and Daryl walked with them as they exited the cell block. Rick and I walked out last. The prisoners were looking around at the devastation of the courtyard. They once would spend time lifting weights, playing basketball, sitting around talking.

Daryl came up beside me, “You gonna tell.me how that asshole knows you?” He asked in a gruff voice. “Later. I'll tell you everything later. Right now we need to keep an extremely close eye on him.” I never took my eyes off of him. His eyes were on me, too. Looking me up and down with a smirk on his face. I know what was going through his head. It's not hard to tell with a sick fucker like him.

Rick and T-dog were telling the other prisoners how it was going to be. I didn't catch any of it but I could tell some people were not happy. Eventually we went back in and Rick dumped some weapons on one of the tables. Nothing crazy, just hand to hand weapons. When the guy I was keeping my eyes on picked up a hatch I walked over and pulled it from his hand. “I don't think so. You can just stay the fuck out of the way.”

His jaw clenched, hands balled into fist, and he leaned towards me. “Careful detective, I know all your weaknesses.” He was dragged away by Daryl, who pushed him in front of us. “Walk!” The asshole smirked at me and then winked before turning And walking out into the corridors. Apparently Rick had offered to help them clear a cell block for themselves. That was something I didn't agree with.

“What the hell are you doing? Did you not hear me, Rick? This man murdered, and I mean slaughtered, at least fifteen women that we knew about. Cut them in pieces after doing the most unspeakable things you can think of to them. It went on for days, weeks, sometimes months before he killed them. So, I am going to kill him and you will not stop me when I do.” I walked past him and out into the corridor. Rick followed shortly after going up to stand beside Daryl.

I stayed in the back with T, keeping a close eye on the disgusting piece of shit at the back of the line. Ryder Larson, The Shadow Slasher, was something that you wouldn't want to call human. He came in the night, watching, learning every detail of your and your daily routine, and stayed in the shadows waiting for the right moment. The age range of women varied, but the long brown hair, green eyes, and between five foot three and five foot six was always the pattern with him.

He was one of my first cases as a detective. The sight of the crime scenes were horrific, forever burned in my brain. I would like nothing more than to throw him into a herd of walkers, watch him be torn apart, and listen to his screams of agony. Replace the memories of him standing in the shadows outside my apartment building. The memories of being chased down and hunted.

That's one other thing he liked to do. He'd capture the woman he had his eyes set on, kidnap them, keep them locked up for a few days, torturing them enough that they bled and cried out. Then…then he would “let them go”, wait for a few minutes as they ran through the dense forest naked and injured. He'd wait for a few minutes before running after them, hunt them down. He liked the cat and mouse game. It gave him a thrill. I was the only exception when it came to his M.O. He simply just, “wanted me.”

When we came to the first few walkers Daryl, Rick, T, and I stood back to let them handle them. Larson stood back, smirking while leaning against the wall. The others were going at the walkers like they were in riot. “The heads, go for the fucking heads!” Daryl yelled, piercing the skull of a walker that got too close.

“Ah! No, get off of me!” I spun around to see the big guy, Big Tiny, smashing the skull of a walker. He had been scratched deep by the arm bone of the said walker. There was nothing we could do. Then Larson came over and started beating his head in. Daryl pulled me back towards him so I wasn't so close. “Let's go,” Rick said, turning and walking ahead. “Next time aim for the head. None of this prison guards bullshit.”

We continued through the prison. When we got to the laundry room, the doors that lead to Cell Block D were locked. Handcuffs on the handles like at the cafeteria. We explained what was going to happen, how we were going to handle the walkers on the other side. But the ringer leader, the mouthy one with the gun, purposely let a walker in and pushed it towards Rick. All hell broke loose after that. He killed the guy. One got away, the smaller one.

Two of them, mustache man, and the guy who asked for a phone were on their knees with their hands in the air. Larson was grinning at me, his eyes fixated on me. “Time for a game of cat and mouse, Detective!” He laughed and ran off through the doors. “Mother Fucker!” I spun to throw daggers at Rick and took off after Larson.