Chaingang

“Teaching himself, learning from both his omnivorous reading and hands-on experience, he had already learned how to take lives, and had proved that—serially—he possessed a masterful talent, if that's the word, for committing acts of homicide. But the military would give him something of great value—the technology of combat, and all that went along with it. The government, from his perspective, could turn him into a professional killer.

“Through various drug-induced interview sessions using sodium Pentothal, Amytal, the paradyzines, tri-Kayandaminopropene, other experimental drugs then being tried, we were able to learn ways that such a man might be at least partially controlled. We were able to manipulate him to the extent that he could be inserted into situations where he might slake his thirst for killing and serve the U.S. government at the same time.

“Now—once again—through a complex set of circumstances that do not concern you, we have this human monster of our creation close at hand. Under lock, key, and every restraint at our disposal. Here!” He gestured behind him. It was very still in the room, save for the breathing of the audience listening to Dr. Norman's every word.

“Some of you have heard rumors of a killer who has taken a human life for every pound of his body weight ... of a monster of murder and mutilation. You may think the stories of the killer who eats the hearts of his victims are the work of overactive imaginations. But the rumors you've heard don't begin to describe this living horror.

“You are growing tired of listening to me drone on, standing in this cramped observation room, hearing how dangerous the care and feeding of one convict is, and the extraordinary lengths we must go to for our mutual protection. You may wonder why your government feels that you have a need to know some of the terrible, damning things you've been learning today.

“I ask you now, as absurd as it may sound to each of you, to try as best you can to free your thoughts from malice.” He licked his lips and smiled. “Think of this man with pity, if you can. Think of him kindly—as a fellow human—whose beastly childhood rendered him into something other than one of us. Think of him with respect, great respect always, and remember that whatever you send in his direction may indeed rebound. Treat him in your thoughts, as well as your deeds, as you would be treated were the roles reversed.

“Ladies and gentlemen, steel yourselves and see, for the first time, the occupant of Cell Ten: Daniel Edward Flowers Bunkowski.” Norman opened the heavy, gray curtain, and the shock wave that engulfed the room was both audible and palpable as they looked down into the pit and met the tiny, black, marble-hard eyes of the massive heart-eater.

2

WATERTON, MISSOURI

At first Mary Perkins thought it sounded like real trouble, a note of seriousness in her husband's warm, friendly tone as he conversed with someone on the telephone. She hadn't been paying attention to what Sam was saying—their phone often rang in the morning, and it was generally something urgent to do with his real estate business. Over the years she'd become used to it. Mary had been sitting at the kitchen table, sipping black coffee as she worked on her grocery coupons and shopping list. But she heard a mild curse and a sharp change in his voice and tilted her head, suddenly aware of what he was saying.

“I know ... huh-uh ... no. I promise you that's not going to happen, Bill ... sure. I'd be concerned too.” She knew it was Bill Pike on the other end of the line, having recognized his voice when he'd called and asked for Sam during what passed for breakfast in the Perkins house.

“No. That isn't the case at all. Here's the deal on that: J. T. Delmar of Southland Growers, John Merriweather, and Wilbur Ferrell are the main guys behind it, Bill. Ocie Upton and the Newcomb brothers are in it too—that's who Maysburg Produce Enterprises is, okay? You know as well as I do that John Merriweather isn't about to stand for something like that. John's daughter and his son-in-law are building about half a mile down from you all. You think John's missus is gonna let him put three hundred migrant workers in a camp right in back of their own daughter?” Mary smiled at her husband laughing into the phone mouthpiece, and he winked at her.