Chapter 11

The Milwaukee Monster, Jeffery Dahmer himself. A highly renowned homosexual, cannibalistic serial killer. He was killed in prison along with another man, both beaten to death. That was the story at least. Something isn't adding up here. Plastic surgery? A twin brother? What the fuck is going on?

I turn to Mills with the most startled look on my face, "Is this really what I think it is? Who I think it is? How…Why? We gotta talk, now!"

The Boss steps up to me and informs me, "We need to go talk, let's step into my office…you know where that is don't you?"

Laughter fills the air, from everyone except me. I'm sick to my damn stomach as Jeffery Dahmer stands himself up from the floor. It's him, it's gotta be him. The thick, brown frame glasses, the classic right side part in his almost ginger hair. Jesus, he was killed in prison, everyone knows that.

The Boss, with his huge gut, forcible directs me to his office. He rushes me past the Milwaukee Monster, who was standing up with his hand extended. I'm not shaking shit.

Inside The Boss's office I can still smell sex, pussy in the air but now it is mixed in with the very distinct aroma of Resolve carpet cleaner. It was a situation where we both could smell it but we both tried to ignore it.

I sit in the black leather desk chair on the visitor side of the desk. The Boss takes a seat in his more superior and comfy looking chair on the "Boss" side of the desk. There is so much racing through my mind and the boss can see it on my eyes, they are racing around my eye sockets like NASCAR stock cars.

"Listen Gregg, there's some things you need to know about this place." My mind stops racing as The Boss says this. No shit was the only thing I could think at that time.

I blast out, "How in the fuck do you have Jeffery Fucking Dahmer here? Better yet, why the fuck do you have Jeffery Fucking Dahmer here? Secondly, why would you black out the room with that queer psycho trying to sneak up on me?"

The Boss's thick grey mustache twitches anxiously back and forth as he explains, "This is a special division for special people, Gregg. We perform a different type of law enforcement around here." The Boss now stands up, buttons his jacket and begins his speech, "The division name is K.U.N.T., Killers Used for their Natural Talents. The name was a majority rules sort of deal, not my cup tea. Here at K.U.N.T. we are called upon from time to time to perform missions or tasks that regular, constitution abiding agencies cannot perform, ethically."

I lean back in my chair, intrigued but still utterly disgusted by the fact that Jeffery Dahmer is in the same building as me, "Excuse me, so we are a part of an unethical law enforcement agency that requires the help of arguably the most controversial serial killer in United States history? What's the deal with the press coverage reporting rigorously about his death in prison?"

���Gregg, sometimes we see people that we can use as an asset to the team. We need people her that can do what we want, when we want, how we want. That's what we are all about here." The Boss now unbuttons his jacket and sits back down, "Jeff is here because he has the most diverse skills of any serial killer we've ever seen on U.S. soil. Duke, aka John Wayne Gacy, is here too and so is The B.T.K. killer. Everyone has a place in this world and it is our jobs as sane people to determine that place for these gentlemen."

I nod my head as sarcastically as possible as if I am fully in agreement of this bullshit, "Oh, I get it. Ok, so we rescue soulless, masochistic human beings and give them jobs instead of life sentences and death sentences. Ok, loud and clear Boss." My sarcasm wasn't missed nor was it appreciated.

The Boss lashed out, "Listen you piece of shit, you're here, there is no leaving. Acceptance isn't needed. Whether you like it or not, you work for K.U.N.T. and that's it. We do what we do for a reason and the judgment you're passing on us is not needed nor is it appreciated."

I rise from my seat, pick up my chair and throw it into the drywall as I prepare my rebuttal, "Who the fuck do you think you are? Who do you think you're talking to? Do you know what I'm capable of? I'll fucki..." The Boss jumps in.

"I know EXACTLY what you're capable of! I PICKED you for this! I know about your childhood, mommy and daddy, I know about the President's right hand lady, I know more about you than you know about you! Pick that fucking chair up off the floor and put you little white ass right back in that seat!"

Mills enters the room now; the numbers have been turned out of my favor. Ok, they were never in my favor, I'm not going to attack my boss but now with Mills in the room, I'm going to sit my fat ass down and make sure if I even sneeze, that I let these guys know. I've had about enough of getting my ass beat lately.

The Boss continued, "You have no options, we've shown you a place that only a handful of people know exists and even less have even entered. We won't be able to let you go. This is NOT a take it or leave it, this is NOT an offer, this is a direct order from the President of the United States with my recommendation."

Mills turns towards me after pacing the floor, "Gregg, this is going to be a very fulfilling career for you. This will erase your past flaws and give you a fresh starting point once you have participated with us. It's very simple. We go out, me and my guys run perimeter and movement surveillance while you go out with the three agents and accomplish the missing. All you have to do is baby sit basically. If it gets out of hand, my team will assist." Mills walks by me, still pacing, and pats me on the shoulder.

I am starting to calm down a touch, "Ok, so I'm a baby sitter to three known dead serial killers. I can't go home; I can't leave this place ever?"

"No, you can leave here, you'll just need an escort but eventually we will want you to stay here, Mills and his team stay here, the agents live here, I live here too. It's kinda what we do, this ensures the secret of this place will remain a secret and not a public image problem for the Big Wigs." The Boss had calmed down also and was making it clear what was going to happen and why.

I casually stand from my chair and ask, "So what has qualified me to be recommended for this position?"

"Gregg, we have followed you for a long time. It wasn't on purpose at first but once we observed you enough, we learned about you. You killed Andrew, who you never called Dad. Your Mother shot herself in front of you. You were told your brother is dead. You had a cat named Goldie. You fought your way out of a horrific captive situation with limited resources." The Boss explained and listed these fucked up key events in my life.

Mills interjects, "We also recognized a case you were on, a serial murder case. You were hot on the tracks of The Slasher going around Newport News. He would cut blonde haired women's throats, cut off both of their breasts and carve "The Slasher" on the upper right thigh of each victim. You were within one to two steps of catching him until you Captain ordered you off the case. You have what it takes, I assure you."

I confusedly asked, "I have what it takes for what?"

"You have what it takes to get these guys in order and track new recruits down as needed. You also have what it takes to track these agents down in the event that someone were to get away from us." Mills explained.

"Where is Slasher, is he…here?" I had still never let go of this case. It haunted me when my childhood dreams took a break from terrorizing my brain.

"No Gregg, he's dead. Jeffery got him a while back, before we taught him what he was here for." Mills frustratedly explained.

I chuckle a bit before I respond, "So, do you guys actually have control here? Are you certain they can't get out?"

The Boss jumps in, "Do you remember your walk in this morning? They have all been through what you went through but they were blind folded and drugged up enough to put an elephant to sleep."

"We are safe down here, we have fun down here but when it's game time, we go hard Gregg. This is a legit unit with a legit purpose." Mills explained the best he could. I trusted him for some reason.

"Alright, explain to me how you raised all these serial killers from the dead." A reasonable question from the new guy.

"Basically Gregg, we do execute these guys, everyone that participates with the viewing of the execution and the removal of the body and all that, they think they are actually giving lethal injection or gas chambering these men. In reality, we have already secured and replaced the lethal doses and insert our own versions. At that point the President himself gives the orders to have certain bodies placed in certain areas. Then we snatch them up and teach them, inform them what they have been chosen for." No one flinches at this, every word The Boss said and not one reaction. Not even from me.

"You got all that Gregg? Is everything crystal?" Mills asked in more of a telling manner, but I know what he's doing and I know he wants me on this team, they all do.

I salute Mills, "Yes sir Captain! Boss, I'm onboard and ready and willing to support whatever you need from me. Please just keep me away from these guys sir." I put on my sad puppy dog face for that request because I don't want to have my heart eaten or my dick cut off and saved in a jar for viewing enjoyment.

"Gregg, you busted a HUGE load all over my floor and I'm supposed to go easy on you!?" There was a smile deep in his face somewhere.

"Sir, I actually busted it on the fake boss's titties and it crept its way down the slopes to the floor, I blame her." I couldn't hold in my laugh and neither could Mills.

We are all standing now. The Boss asks politely for us to get the fuck out of his office, I think that's how he put it. Mills took me to my office; I got an office out of this! It had Lieutenant on it and everything. I walk in and it is identical to The Boss's office except no cum stains on the floor and it smelled like candy instead of carpet cleaner.

I sit at my desk, wood grain with silver trim. I've got a computer, a desk and cell phone, a sweet cotton filled leather chair and blank walls. We have to do something about this.

I'll have to get Mills to take me home so I can get some of my toys to put around the office, maybe even bring in a television or something. Maybe this won't be so bad. Maybe I can do this job, other than my horrifying fear of all the agents locked up just fifty to seventy feet from my desk. I couldn't hear them, I couldn't see them but knowing they were there really gave me the shakes.

I remember the night shortly after I killed Andrew and buried my mother. It was a very eerie night, dark and rainy. Cold rain, the worst rain. I had already been through so much and now all I could focus on was what was coming next. What could possibly happen next?

I slept in my Judith's room that night where earlier that day she had taken her life. The smell of piss and shit was still very overwhelming but I tried to sleep in there.

I lay facing the window with the pistol under my pillow. I don't know what I thought was going to happen but I really continued to wait for Andrew to rise from the grave right below the window and come get some payback.

I kept one eye and ear open that long night. Thank goodness I did.

I heard a very loud and abrupt shuffling from the other side of my window. Convinced it was Andrew clawing his way from beneath the dirt, I ran outside without even checking the window and saw this horrific beast digging at the fresh grave.

It noticed my presence and acknowledged it with an ear shatter growling roar! It was a Grizzly, trying to get to the meet under the ground. I couldn't let him get Judith so I raised the pistol and fired a shot right into his ass, probably right up his ass hole for all I know.

The bear moaned out in pain and turned to face me, turned to kill me. I knew I only had two shots left in my five round revolver. It was .38 special but the special didn't mean it could take down a bear.

Needless to say, the bear seemed to smile as I unloaded the two final bullets into its face. I knew I was now fucked for sure and turned to run, I was right at the back door.

When I entered the home the bear was at least two feet back. I slammed the door shut, but bears don't knock and wait for answers. The door exploded off the frame as the bear entered my humble home.

I sprinted down the hallway and turned right at the very end, into my brother's old room. The bear was so massive it was having trouble squeezing through the narrow confines of the hallway.

The bear moans and growls and I scream and panic, logical reaction in my book. I knew my brother had a hunting shotgun in here. I dove under his bed to find the pristine shotgun wrapped in a sheet. The bear was drawing closer; I could feel the vibrations from its growling.

I un-cocked the shot gun only to see there were no shells loaded. As I stood from under the bed, I came face to face with a grizzly bear stuck in the door frame. Its breath was filling the room almost as bad as its growls. I scurried towards the open closet and spot a lone shell sitting on top of the shelf. I jumped and grabbed onto the shelf in hopes it would collapse and drop the shell.

Instead it only strained the muscles in my arm a bit. I took the butt of the shotgun and hit the bottom of the shelf repeatedly. At this point the bear was ninety percent free from the door frame. But I knocked the lone red shell off the shelf of the otherwise empty closet.

Loading it was easy, cocking the shot gun was tough but I managed. I emerged from the closet only to see the bear freely roaming the room, searching for my location based on scent alone.

I emerged from the closet and fire on the Grizzly, right into his left eyeball. The slug from the shell passed through his eye and out of the left side of his head. Brain, blood and slobber were strewn across the far wall, slowly sliding in a snail like manner down the wall towards the floor.

The large brown bear remained on its feet, still facing me. It's breathing still in rhythm but very raspy and shallow. I stared the bear in its lone eye as I slowly watched this huge beast slowly slip away from this world and disappear into the darkness. I sat with him as he collapsed to the floor and I rubbed him as he died.

It wasn't his fault, it wasn't my fault. It was a catch twenty-two situation, one of us had to die and as bad as I hated my life, I didn't want to die in a bear's mouth. Poor bear, I wish I had one more shell so I could silence him, so I could save him from the pain.

I put my hand on his face and laid my head on his. When I finally woke up in the morning the bear had passed and I felt actual sorrow for this animal. I left the old house that day for good, I couldn't acknowledge my destruction of this animal anymore. There was too much pain involved.