Wrath White - Succulent Prey

"Has anyone ever told you that you look

"Has anyone ever told you that you look like Superman? I mean, not like

Christopher Reeve, but I mean the real

Superman… from the comic books. You look just like that son of bitch!" Damon chuckled in amusement.

It took a Herculean effort to keep from taking him right there in the hospital. Joe desperately wanted to see the man bleed. He had no desire to feed on him. This wouldn't be kil ing for food. For the first time it would be kil ing for the pure enjoyment of ending another human being's sorry existence.

If it weren't for al the noise the fat bastard would make, squealing like a stricken hog, he would have tried to end it right there and take his chances getting back out of the hospital. It would have been easier to get out without the fat freak in tow anyway, Joe thought. The discovery of his body would even act as a perfect distraction to al ow him to slip past the guards. But there was also the possibility that they'd lock the whole place down as soon as the body was discovered and he'd be trapped.

"Shut the hel up before the nurses hear you. Do they check the patients before they go on break?"

"Only the terminal ones and the ones who can't control their bowel movements. There's a schizophrenic spree kil er at the end of the hal that they keep a pretty tight watch on. He's always going on about `The High Score.' See, the record for the most people kil ed in a single murder spree is twenty-one. This guy kil ed about thirteen when he went off on a rampage at a supermarket in

Seattle. But he was trying to crack twenty-one, beat the high score. He stil wants to do it and he makes no secret of it. Says he's on a mission from God or some shit. So they watch him very closely. They don't come in here too often, though." Trent snickered in his high-pitched squeaky voice. "I think I make them nervous." His smile seemed to rip his face in half like a reopened wound.

Despite his masquerade of cool composure it was obvious that Trent could not wait to be free, to feed once more for the first time in over a decade. He seemed to have forgotten that Joe was not just there to set him free but to kil him, to tear the curse out of his flesh and dash it to the wind. He was practical y vibrating with anticipation as he sat on the edge of the bed, glancing repeatedly at the clock on the wal like a kid waiting for a turn on his favorite amusement park ride. But Joe was even more excited.

For him it was not just about the cure anymore. Seeing the fat pederast again had reawakened al the old anger and fear. And now he wanted to make

Damon feel some of what he had felt as a little kid, locked in a dark basement, being tortured and fed upon by some grotesque monster. He wanted Trent to scream.

"How much longer?"

"I'm not sure. It should be any minute now."

The more Joe thought about it the more he thought it would be better to try to kil Trent right here in the hospital. Getting him out past the guards would be too hard and he'd almost forgotten about the janitor who was stil evacuating his body fluids in the maintenance closet. That body would be discovered soon too and then they'd definitely lock the place down and probably start searching rooms. He needed to end this now. The problem was how to do it quietly.

"I'm going to need to put those restraints back on 11 you.

But… but why?" Fear leapt instantly into Trent's eyes. Only then did he seem to remember Joe's true motivations.

"I had to kil someone to get in here. They might do a room check before they leave for lunch if they find his body. I can always slip under your bed but if they see you without your restraints on they might search the room and find me." This explanation seemed to appease

Damon, but only slightly.

"Which one was it? Was it that fat nurse with the red hair and the big hooters? I'd kil for a taste of her. Who'd you get?" Joe seized Damon's wrists and began tying him back down to the bed. "I kil ed one of the janitors, I think. He might have been an orderly."

"That creepy little skinny guy with the receding hairline and the great big eyes? I hate that guy. He's always bugging me for stories about how I kil ed those kids. He says he wants to write a book about me, but I think he just goes into that closet and jacks off over it." Once Damon's wrists and ankles were secure, Joseph walked over to the door and looked up and down the hal. Other

"resident patients" were wandering the hal s, pestering nurses for more medication and gibbering to themselves. The RNs were al gathered up by the reception desk checking their watches, ignoring the insistent cries of their haunted and tormented patients, and gathering their purses. Several of the guards were there as wel. Joe watched as they piled into the elevator and began their descent toward the cafeteria before slipping back into the room and shutting the door behind him.

"Why are you closing the door? What are you doing? You aren't going to kil me, are you? You can't! They'l catch you. Help!"

Joseph punched Damon hard in the gut, driving the oxygen from his lungs and turning his complexion red and purple.

Damon's eyes went wide and his tongue shot out of his mouth. Joseph waited until Damon stopped coughing and caught his breath before leaning in and clamping a hand over his mouth.

"If you scream again the next punch wil break your sternum and puncture your lungs. You'l die slowly as your lungs col apse and fil up with blood, drowning you. Do you understand?"

Damon nodded. Joe withdrew a scalpel he'd stolen from the maintenance closet and placed it to the fat man's chest. Then he began to cut.

"Please. Please don't kil me. I didn't mean to hurt you.

"I don't care anymore. I only care about getting the cure."

"Kil ing me won't cure you."

"It's worth a try."

He sliced a long line down the unctuous pervert's chest, cutting so deep that he could feel the blade bounce over the fat man's rib cage. Damon's pal id flesh opened up, revealing thick yel ow globs of adipose tissue smothering the ruby red muscle fibers surrounding his ribs. Damon cried out despite the warning.

"Arrrrgh! Stop! Stop!!! Hel l!" Joe smashed an elbow down into

Damon's solar plexus, shattering his xiphoid process and rupturing his lungs. Damon wheezed and choked, gagging as the blood fil ing his thoracic cavity and crushed his lungs. Blood bubbled up from between the pervert's lips as he struggled to breathe.

"This won't cure you. I didn't make you what you are," Damon wheezed in an exhausted whisper.

"I would have been normal, just like any other person, if you hadn't passed this disease on to me!" Joe struggled to keep his voice down as his entire body vibrated with rage. His cold blue eyes were livid with half a lifetime of shame and anger.

Damon began to laugh. A hideous gurgling sound issued from his lungs and blood sprayed from his lips as he wheezed and cackled.

"You were made long before I came along. Why do you think I picked you as my first? You were made by the same person who made me years before. The disease was already in your blood. Just like the legends say, you have to kil the original vampire, and I wasn't the first one. I was just a victim, like you. I was made into a monster."

"By who?"

Damon's voice was growing fainter as he continued to try to breathe through his col apsing lungs.

"Haven't you guessed it already? There is no curse. It's al in the genes."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You figure it out. You know. Deep down, you know. You've known al along." Joe leapt onto the mattress, straddling the child kil er's bloated stomach, and plunged the scalpel deep into the wound he'd made in Damon's chest. In a near frenzy, Joe began ripping the obese pederast apart. He cut chunks of flesh out of the man's torso, slicing deep into his fat and muscle and then digging his fingers down into the meat and jerking it free with both hands. Pul ing off his pectoral muscles with a wet sticky riiiiiip!