David Golemon: Ripper

“Chief Inspector?” Washington said as he watched the blood drain from Abberline’s face. Instead of answering, he too handed over the note, not wanting to utter the written words aloud. Washington read the note as his boss followed the soldiers up the stairs. The words were scrawled as if they were written by an untrained, brutish hand.

Colonel Stanley, if I may presume this is who the ministry of defense has chosen to terminate my contract, please join me in the laboratory at the head of the stairs. I am available for a demonstration of the work I was so well compensated for. It is shameful that I am not allowed to complete my assignment, but tonight you can have the results as promised.

— A

Washington was as confused as ever as he allowed the note to fall from his hand. He went up the stairs, but not as enthusiastically as the rest.

Abberline heard the men on the upper floor as they moved about. He gained the uppermost floors and then looked out onto the warehouse. Half the building had a second floor; the other half was a high roof with the new skylighting used for the greenhouse. Abberline aimed his pistol ahead of him. The building lacked the gas lighting of the more modern warehouses that lined the river, so in every corner and underneath every table, chair, and barrel, he saw moving shadows. He finally spied Stanley as he kicked over a small table that held beakers and glass tubes of every shape and size. He seized the colonel’s arm.

“We must leave the building and surround it with more men. This is a trap and we’re walking right into it.”

“My orders are to kill this maniac, and that is exactly what we are going to do. If you have doubts as to our abilities, perhaps it is a good time to leave.” Stanley shook Abberline’s hand free of his arm. “But you can also expect a visit from the palace as to why you refused to assist Her Majesty in this apprehension.”

Abberline was about to explode. Now Stanley was even veiling his threat with word games — it was real; they would kill him and Washington and think nothing less of themselves. He opened his mouth to speak, but a thickened, rich, booming voice froze every man on the second floor.

“Your men seem to need some of the fire I could have provided them and the Defense Ministry paid for if I had not been betrayed by those very same men, Colonel Stanley.”

The voice echoed in the almost-empty building. Abberline was sure that it emanated from a megaphone at the very least. It swirled and then settled upon the twenty-three men as the fog had done outside.

“This was supposed to end many months ago; you gave your word to the ministry. Now come Professor Ambrose, let’s finish this business.”

“Very well, but allow me my medicinal interlude.”

Abberline jumped when the sound of breaking glass broke the silence after the words were spoken. As he looked he saw the vial in pieces on the floor at the colonel’s booted feet. He watched as Stanley went to a knee to examine the broken glass. He reached out and retrieved a small piece of the shattered vial. He sniffed and then he stood so suddenly that his men jumped.

“Professor, you did not drink the whole of this did you?”

Silence.

“It will not avail you, tonight you die.”

It seemed every man saw the shadow as it fell from the rafters above their heads. The darkened mass hit the floor and then vanished into the blackness at the far end of the warehouse. Three shots rang out from the nervous soldiers to Abberline’s left. Washington stepped forward and stood by the chief inspector.

Suddenly the sergeant major and two men skirted the colonel and ran forward on the right at Stanley’s direction. Then he motioned again and another two ran forward on the right. Again there were more gunshots. A loud explosion announced that one of the American shotguns had discharged. Then something flew out of the darkness and struck the wooden floor. It was one of Stanley’s men. His torso had been torn in two with the upper half missing. Then several shouts were heard and men started moving quickly.

“There!” Stanley shouted and fired his Webley at a large shadow that moved quickly through the darkened end of the large room.

Abberline heard the heaving grunting and the horrifying chuckle that announced that the Ripper was no longer in hiding. The sound made the experienced inspector freeze in terror. Then he saw the enormous shadow rise up in between two large tables with test tubes, beakers, and jars on its top. The shadow grabbed the first table and held it before it just as several large-caliber rounds struck the wood. The shield allowed none of the bullets to pass through. Several men rushed the large and quickly advancing shadow. The first was knocked across the room as something large and club-like struck him, sending him through a large window. The second was stomped upon with brutal force as more bullets struck the thick, wooden table. Then the sound came that froze every one of the professional soldiers and also the two policemen in their tracks — a roar, not like the sound of a wild animal, but more of a purposeful act to scare everyone who heard it. More screams, more shots, and then the sound of breaking, tearing, and the horrid screams of men as the Ripper waded into them.

Abberline grabbed Washington and the two men skirted to the left as gunfire erupted from all over the second floor. The large table was finally thrown and that afforded Abberline his first look at the man Robert Louis Stevenson had dubbed Mr. Hyde, but he and his men knew as Jack the Ripper.

“My God!” Washington said as his feet froze at the sight.

The clothing had been ripped and shredded. Tatters of a once-white shirt hung along the beast’s long arms as they swung at two men who charged him. The soldiers were immediately broken and lifeless as they slammed into the far wall. Abberline saw the face of the man he had chased for nearly two years. The face was crevassed and lined. Dark fissures were deep and dingy where there wasn’t muscle supporting the skin. The beard was thick and an inch long. The eyes were wild and the forehead massive. The teeth were large and misshapen and the man was clearly ten sizes too large for the clothing that covered his body. The beast standing before the remaining men was no less than seven feet tall.

Several bullets hit the man before he could move, but they seemed to have no effect.

“The head — shoot for the head!” Stanley shouted as he tried to get to a better location in the darkness for a clear shot. Before he reached his spot he tripped and fell, and that was when he looked over and saw that the club that had been used against his men had been the remains of the sergeant major. He lay headless and lifeless beside him. Colonel Stanley scowled and then with a shout he stood and charged the creature that could not possibly exist. He started firing the Webley as he ran toward the large beast. Then just as the bullets struck in the shoulder and chest, the Ripper moved. It was like a large cat that maneuvered for the kill. It quickly seized the colonel by the neck and pulled him up and in front of it. The Ripper was now using Stanley as a shield.

More bullets hit the beast from behind, but still the Ripper elicited no sound other than the loud grunting and snarling of a large predator. It was as though the thing standing before Abberline and Washington had lost the ability of speech. There was no scream of pain and no words. Stanley tried to raise the pistol, but the hand was taken and the fingers slowly crushed until the large weapon fell free. Abberline charged, firing his own weapon. Two bullets hit the Ripper in the side and one actually clipped Colonel Stanley as he was dangled and shaken like a small doll before a cruel child. Suddenly a fist struck out and hit Abberline in the chest and he flew five feet backward. As Washington ran to the chief inspector’s side he saw Stanley released. The Ripper lifted a large and bare foot over the prone and stunned Stanley and then raised its misshapen head to the rafters. This time it was indeed an animalistic roar of triumph that shook the very building.