Andrew Neiderman - Deficiency

"Oh, hi," the woman said. She smiled. Her teeth were the best part of her face, he thought, very white, very straight.

"Hi."

"We need a room. We started out a little too early this morning and I'm afraid we got a bit lost. My mother is tired. We need to just have a good day's rest before continuing."

"Where are you going?" he asked. He was really curious about it.

"Oh, we're heading for Raleigh, North Carolina. My mother's older sister is very sick and I promised to take her to see her. I had some vacation due me and took it," she added.

The speed and ease with which she revealed personal information impressed him. First, it was nice to have personal information, and second, it was nice to see someone so trusting, so expecting of compassion and sympathy.

"Sure," he said moving with more enthusiasm now. He looked at the old lady.

"You need to rest, Mom," he said as if he had known her all his life. She didn't smile. She was one of those elderly people who resented people who became too personal too quickly. He could see that, but he ignored it. He turned the sign-in book around and the young woman opened her purse.

"How much is a room?" she asked.

"Thirty-eight fifty," he replied.

She nodded and opened a wallet to take out four tens, which she counted carefully.

"Mom hates credit cards," she whispered. "She thinks it makes people spend way above their means. Is cash all right?"

"Oh, absolutely," he said. "Just sign in and I'll give you the keys to..." He looked at the board of keys and saw the room next to his. "Unit 12. Next to the very end. It will be quiet there for you."

"Oh thank you," she said. "We need to get some rest before we go for some dinner. Are there good places nearby?"

"Oh, absolutely," he said. "When you're ready, just let me know and I'll point you in the right direction."

"Thank you very much."

He turned the book around and saw she had written Erna Walker. Her address was in Rochester, New York.

"What time did you two start out, Erna?" he asked.

"A little before four in the morning. I guess we were a bit too enthusiastic, but this is the longest trip I've taken in a car, and certainly the longest for my mother," she said.

"Well I'm sure you two will get some rest. Do you need help with your luggage?" he asked.

"Oh no. Thank you," she said taking the key.

The old lady had been looking around and he could see she wasn't pleased with the lobby. The walls were too dull and the baseboard was dirty. The floor needed a good vacuuming and washing and the windows needed washing, too. She smirked at him, showing her disapproval.

Old people can be so critical, he thought. They expect everyone to be just like they are.

He watched them return to their car and then drive down to the room. Erna took two small suitcases out of the trunk of her car and then opened the door of the unit. She entered and her mother followed very tentatively. He expected them to come charging out, the old lady complaining about cobwebs or something, but they didn't.

"That's good," he muttered. And then, suddenly, he had an epiphany, an incredibly explosive and wonderful revelation.

That woman was choice. She had a virginal aura about her. Everything in her was fresh and high quality. He could mine her, draw everything he needed, and she had come to him!

In fact, he thought, gazing around, this is what I was thinking of, the fish bowl, my feeding ground. They'll come here. I'll have something in every room. I'll never be without.

He rubbed his hands together. He no longer wanted to jog. The struggle with the motel owner had taken too much of his energy. That troubled him for a few moments. He wasn't usually this tired this fast after something physical. But he rejected all negative and troubling thoughts in light of the good luck he had somehow stumbled upon here. I'll grow very strong and then, when I'm ready, I'll go on.

And on.

And on, forever....

He returned to the living room to thank the corpse.

In a real sense, he should thank all the corpses that trailed behind him. It amused him.

I'll send thank-you cards to cemeteries, he thought, and laughing, felt more like his old self.

Whoever and whatever that was.

"I need your help," he began. "Don't panic. Please." During the few moments that had passed between her realizing who he was and the moment he began to speak, a parade of deficiency diseases and illnesses marched through her mind. The three young women she had seen degenerate right before her eyes were sharing the Grand Marshal position, waving their dead hands in warning.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"You knew I wasn't really a state detective when I met you at the hospital the other day, right? I sensed that, but I was hoping you would be cooperative anyway.

"I'm not picking on you, Doctor. I had to visit you after the first death to be certain I was on the right track, that the M.O. fit, and I had to see just how much you really knew and understood.

"I'm sorry about frightening you before, and I'm sorry about your fiance, but I don't have much time to waste, and now that the rather good rendition of his face and mine is on the front page of the newspaper and undoubtedly being broadcast periodically on television stations, there is even more urgency. He'll become more dangerous, more like a cornered rat.

"He's very smart, very intelligent, and he will find a way to avoid detection. He will go on and he will, as I fear he has already, find new victims at a geometric level of activity. He's obviously growing more desperate. Something is happening to him. He might die or he might kill at a rate that will create panic in the streets... literally," he concluded and turned down a side road that degenerated into a gravel one.

He stopped the car and turned off the engine.

"Where is the policeman who was with me?" she asked.

"He's in the trunk," he replied. "Don't worry. He's still alive, only sedated." She reached back, behind herself to fumble for the door knob.

"Don't," he said quickly realizing what she was doing. "Where are you going to run to anyway? And don't you think I could catch you? Settle down, Dr. Barnard. You are a very intelligent young woman, my best hope so far. I need to know what you do know, what that second victim told you before she expired. I need to know his whereabouts or anything that might lead me to him. I need to find him before anyone else does and I need to destroy him before anyone discovers what he is," he continued.

"What are you telling me?" Terri asked realizing what he had said about the picture on the front pages of the newspaper. "That he's your twin brother?"

"Not in the traditional sense, no," he replied. "And I'm not a schizophrenic. I assure you. He is a separate entity. I'll tell you what I can, if you tell me everything you know about him. I'm sure he's said something I can use. He's very arrogant. He would not hesitate to tell one of his victims things about himself so he most probably revealed important information to the woman you began to examine.

"He has anticipated my every move so far and is always a step or two ahead of me. Part of his brilliance, you see. He possesses qualities we cannot fathom."

"How do you know so much about him?" she asked. She had found the door knob, but she was drawn to remain both out of curiosity and fear he was right --

she would not be able to get away.

"I created him," he replied. "I'm Dr. Garret Stanley. I work for a research corporation that is hidden within layers and layers of legal detours, so sophisticated even the CIA would have trouble getting to the heart of it." He smiled. "There's that arrogance showing, I'm afraid. He shares my best and worst qualities."