The Dark Corner

DAY 1

“For the record, Maine abolished the death penalty in 1887, Mr. Burke. Otherwise, the bastard would’ve been hung a hundred and thirty years ago. Then again, who’s to say he would’ve died.”

I stared long and hard at Spencer Bowman, the man who’d been the warden of Maine State Prison longer than I’ve been alive. Perhaps I misunderstood his statement, because there was no way on earth the name and dates in front of me were correct. Perhaps a clerical error, but an intriguing story nonetheless as I ventured from New York City to meet this man who had been serving a life sentence…

Since 1885.

“Warden Bowman, am I to understand, on record, that Thaddeus Colburn has been incarcerated here…for one hundred and thirty-six years?” His eyes wandered as I tried to uncover any sense that he was simply messing with me. The tip I received last week when I began my research into commuted death row inmates simply had to be a hoax.

My master’s thesis was to be based on interviews of actual living inmates who had seen their death sentences converted to life without parole. The goal was to study the changes in attitude and behavior of the convicts. When I received the tip about a commuted inmate from a state that abolished the death penalty in 1887, I had to admit I was intrigued. Of course, I was apprehensive and didn’t even contemplate it initially. Was I really sitting in the prison where the world’s most tenured inmate has called home since the Cleveland administration? At least according to the warden.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have signed the nondisclosure agreement so quickly.

Our conversation began cordially, but Bowman was drenched in sweat the moment he shook my hand. He had a hard time maintaining eye contact, and he wrung his hands over and over. When I mentioned meeting Colburn, he originally said it was impossible. No one gets to meet the man. In fact, only those who understood his unique situation were allowed near Colburn.

The man was clearly a taboo topic at the prison, but soon enough, the warden broke down. Perhaps all the years at the prison had taken their toll. Or perhaps Colburn had become too much of a burden to keep a secret. In any event, Warden Spencer Bowman of the Maine State Prison confirmed my findings. Everything I’d uncovered about the former death row inmate was true.

*****

Call me morbid, but I’d always been fascinated with the death penalty. So many violent methods had been used. The guillotine, firing squad, and hanging were some early methods that fell the way of the electric chair and the gas chamber. Today, the overwhelming method used by states that haven’t abolished the death penalty use lethal injection. Then there were the ancient methods that are difficult to think about. Vlad the Impaler received his nickname for using impalement as a method of execution.

I’d presented my thesis idea to my adviser, Graham Baker, who enthusiastically approved it. In fact, he was the one who provided me with the tip about checking out Maine State Prison.

“Someone clearly screwed something up, so that should be an interesting story to add whenever you get the proper information,” he said to me during our final thesis meeting. “I’ve

considered checking it out for myself but never really thought there was much to it.” Graham might have been the only person more dementedly intrigued by the death penalty than me.

After thinking it over, I decided to check it out for myself. My first few phone calls to the prison led me in a dozen different directions. They’d been instructed on how to act whenever this bizarre story resurfaced. I guess they figured I’d give up if they jerked me around long enough. Yet I remained persistent because I wanted to meet Thaddeus Colburn. I wanted to meet the man who was allegedly closing in on two hundred years old.

My research on Colburn turned up little more than his name on a town census from the 1880s. After digging deeper, his name turned up among a list of death row inmates whose sentences were commuted. I found nothing about why he was there, though. No heinous crimes were documented.

After several days of nagging, Warden Bowman finally took my call. He tried to give me a line of bullshit that the man currently serving life at his prison simply encompassed the same name. But I called his bluff and told him I possessed some damning information along with a contact at the Portland Press Herald who loved printing controversial stories.

“He’d love to know there’s a man nearly two centuries old serving life at the prison,” I’d said to him. “Especially with this old memo that someone leaked out about twenty years ago when you were announced as the new warden and informed of the special inmate you had.” I lied about the memo. If he’d fired back looking for proof, I would’ve been screwed.

“Fine,” he finally said. “I’ll set up a meeting, and we can talk. But you talk to me and only me. Not Colburn.”

“How come?” There was a long pause, and I thought maybe he’d hung up.

“Just looking out for you, friend. No Colburn.” With that, he hung up. An hour later, I received a meeting request e-mail and began planning my seven-hour drive to the prison.

The phone call happened a week before the meeting. When I finally sat across from the man, he had gone from hard-ass warden when he shook my hand, to scared little bully whose biggest secret was about to be revealed.

“Well since you’re being so forthcoming, maybe you can help me understand why I couldn’t find much about the guy,” I said. “It’s like almost every public record on Mr. Colburn disappeared. I know it was more than a hundred and fifty years ago, but there has to be something beyond a census entry and a name on a list of commuted death row inmates.”

“I’m not sure you’re ready for what your request entails, son,” he replied. “There’s a reason we don’t let just anyone waltz in and chat with him. That’s been the rule for every warden that’s passed through here since 1885 when that…man was brought in.” The warden looked me in the eyes, and I sensed the serious nature in his tone. He was protecting Colburn but wouldn’t say why.

“Please, Warden Bowman. This is a fascinating tale, and I would appreciate the chance to dig deeper. In fact, I can’t believe that this isn’t front-page news every day, given the guy’s alleged age.” Bowman rubbed his temple and turned away. Finally, he threw up his arms, spun around, and pulled out a file.

“There,” he said and flung it over to me. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. What you’ll find in there is going to blow your mind, boy. But don’t think you can go to the press or the internet or anything. Your nondisclosure agreement is airtight. That includes every…experience you have with Mr. Colburn.”

“Experience, Warden?”

After a moment of awkward silence, Bowman smiled. “You’ll see.”

*****

I sat down in an empty office to study the Colburn file. They allowed me time to peruse everything before granting me an actual interview with the last man alive during the Lincoln presidency. I wasn’t sure if I should scan the file or write down my questions. Granted, it would take knowing what the hell I was getting myself into before I could focus on what to ask the man. I still didn’t know what crime he committed to receive a death sentence. I learned little from the boring log sheets and newspaper articles dating back one hundred fifty years.

“Well, this is a whole lot of nothing,” I said and took out my phone. I wanted to let Graham know that I was in, but I hadn’t seen the subject at hand.

“Hello, Tyler. How are things in Maine?” he said in his normal, monotone voice.

“I seem to be getting somewhere, but I’m still not sure where I’m being led. Supposed to meet this guy Colburn in a few minutes, so that’ll tell me if this whole thing is just one big joke.”

“Well either way, keep me informed. And take notes. Ask pertinent questions.” I agreed to his requests and hung up.

I grabbed the file again, and as I dug further, I discovered the charges against him. Apparently, Colburn brutally murdered two men at the Kittery courthouse in 1885. And the term “brutally” was an understatement. He tore the men to pieces right in front of others. Witnesses claimed his face and mouth were covered in blood by the time he was done. He had been linked to other

murders in the area over the previous decade but was never charged with anything. The authorities appeared thrilled to finally catch him in the act.

I sifted through more papers until a death notice from the Maine State Archives stared up at me. My eyes locked in on the name, and before I could read any more, it all became a blur…

*****

Nathaniel Colburn sat down on his favorite stool at the local saloon and ordered a shot of whiskey. He didn’t intend to stay long, as the Clayton brothers were hot on his trail. It had been a couple months since he lost them, but his foolishness the other night put them back on his scent.

“Why did I go out? I didn’t need to feed for at least another week. But I was so hungry, and my body was weaker than normal,” he said to Stephen, the bartender who let the words roll off his shoulder.

“Well this medicine will get ya all settled, friend,” Stephen replied before walking away.

Normally when Nathaniel went on a mission, he ventured far enough outside his hometown of Kittery to keep the hunters from finding his location. But Nathaniel felt weak. Something not acceptable when he has a son who requires his father’s guidance in becoming a man. Thaddeus needed his daddy to show him the way.

Their way.

So, he went out into the open. He found a subject with a strong blood scent not far from the home he shared with his wife and son. The scent was so incredibly delicious, it drew him in.

And he fed.

His strength returned to maximum capacity. But the Claytons had caught wind. His carelessness brought them to town. He had seen them just a day earlier. They knew what he was. And they were hunting him as they had so many others like him. It didn’t matter that this country was being ravaged by a civil war that had already taken thousands of lives. The Clayton brothers had their own agenda.

They wanted to end Nathaniel and his people.

“Hit me again, Stephen,” Nathaniel said as the bartender approached with the bottle. Before he poured, his eyes grew, and he backed away. The hammer of a familiar Colt New Army Model 1860 revolver cocked back. The sound echoed through the saloon. Nathaniel knew to whom it belonged.

*****

I jumped up from the chair and dropped the file onto the floor. The papers scattered, and I turned to all sides of the room, looking for the gun. I wasn’t in an 1800s saloon. I was still at the prison. But the man I just daydreamed about…

“That was his father. What the hell happened to his father?” I said to no one except the scattered papers on the floor. I bent down and gathered them up. My hands shook and my heart raced as my mind began to open. I found the report on Colburn’s father, but the story was brief and gave little information.

Be careful what you wish for.

“Hey kid, he’s ready,” a voice from across the prison hollered, startling me from my

daydream. I looked over to see the man who’d escorted me to the office. He waved me over, but I was hesitant. The vision of Colburn’s father in the saloon spooked me. The warden even warned me about the experiences should I dig any further into this narrative. I took a deep breath and told myself that my mind was simply playing tricks on me.

“Hey, college boy! You coming or not?” The voice was louder, and instead of hesitating, I walked toward the person who would take me to see Thaddeus Colburn.

*****

Through a two-way mirror, I stared at the image of a normal man sitting at a table. Colburn appeared to be no older than the day he was arrested. I waited for someone to come into the room and tell me it was all one big joke. That this guy was just a normal inmate or even a guard who’s in on the joke. But everyone in the room stuck to the story. My heart raced the longer I stared at the man.

He stared up at the mirror.

He smiled.

My eyes shot down as a chill ran through my entire body. The two guards in the room looked at each other, then to me. “Oh look. Prisoner Zero knows you’re in here,” one of the guards chuckled.

Prisoner Zero? That’s…morbid.

“Sorry for the delay. We’re just waiting on the final okay from the boss to let you in,” the other guard said. He’d introduced himself as Officer David. “Now remember. He’s chained up

good, but don’t get close enough for him to touch you. And if you start to feel like you’re not in control, look at the glass, and we’ll come get you.”

“Right. Just a simple interview. That’s it.” I shuffled through the file once more. It was huge, but much of the information beyond his father’s story was sign offs on bed checks and meals provided. Looking these over, I discovered no discrepancies. The oldest pages had been photocopied, and I was told the originals were locked away in a bank safe.

The door opened swiftly and my feet left the floor as the first guard returned. The file almost scattered once more. “Okay, we’re ready if you are. Last chance to turn away, kid.”

“I’m good. Let’s do this.” I took a deep breath, counted to ten, and followed Officer David out of the room and around to another door.

Behind that door sat Thaddeus Colburn.

The guard turned the knob and flung the door open without walking inside. He motioned for me to head in on my own, which I did, albeit slowly. Once inside, the door slammed shut. My heart raced once more, as there was no turning back. I turned and looked directly at Colburn. He gave off no menacing appearance, and actually presented a friendly smile before motioning with his head for me to sit in the chair across from him.

“What’s your name, kid?” he said as I sat down. Colburn didn’t present the look of a killer. But then again, all of the inmates I’d spoken with to this point of my research displayed themselves as normal and charming. Why would this one be different?

“Mr. Colburn, sir, my name is Tyler Burke. I am a researcher working on my master’s thesis in criminal psychology at Columbia University. I was hoping to speak with you about…well, about your situation.” I stuttered my words, suddenly drawing a blank at what I would ask.

Going in, I hoped to maintain control of the room and discover what had to be a joke. But the force that plunged through my body as I walked into the room took that control away.

“Situation? And what situation might that be, Mr. Tyler Burke?” Colburn didn’t stutter. His words were concise and potent. Although I knew the shackles kept him secured, I scooted my chair back.

It’s just another interview, I told myself. No need to be nervous.

I shuffled my papers and gathered my thoughts before looking back up. His eyes immediately locked in on mine, and I found myself in a stare down, unable to speak for at least thirty seconds. I had an illusion that I was speaking with Hannibal Lector. But his hard stare softened, and a smile formed once more.

“It’s okay, Mr. Tyler Burke. You can ask me. Honestly, son, I’m flabbergasted that they let some kid in here. Thought they were gonna keep me a secret forever.” Colburn’s calming tone put me at ease, and I took a deep breath.

“All right. I guess I’ll ask the obvious question: how old are you?” My pen in hand, I prepared to write down every word he spit out.

“Don’t rightly know. I was born on June the 8^th in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and fifty-three.” The words slid from his mouth without hesitation. If he was full of shit, his acting skills hid it well. “Don’t rightly know the year anymore.”

“That would make you one hundred and seventy-one years old…the oldest human being on the planet.” My tone came out condescending. Granted, it would’ve been impossible to keep playing along like this situation was even close to the definition of normal. “How is that possible, Mr. Colburn? You don’t look to have aged since, well, since you were brought here in 1885.

What’s your secret?”

Colburn began laughing. “Ain’t no secret, Mr. Tyler Burke. I just do what they ask of me. I sleep at night, I eat my meals, I stay out of trouble.”

His emphasis on “I eat my meals” gave me chills.

Although I had no idea how useful it would be, I wrote everything down and pushed myself to continue. “Tell me about why you’re in here. You were on death row, but your sentence was commuted when the state abolished the death penalty.”

Colburn sat back in his chair until the chains on his wrists let him go no further. “So, you want to hear my story? Okay, here goes. I was ten years old when they killed my daddy. Civil War took lots of men, and he was one of them. Died at Gettysburg.”

“Right. According to your statement back in 1885 when you killed the men…wait, you say your father died during the battle of Gettysburg?”

“Yessir. But not just shot. They says he was tortured by those two… men, if you can call them that. Drug his body ‘round like an animal, then they tore his limbs off.”

“Mr. Colburn, with all due respect, there’s no record of those events. Your father was listed to have been killed by gunfire at a saloon outside of Philadelphia. His body was returned to the family, and a proper burial was performed.” I held out talking about my previous daydream regarding the incident.

“There’s a lot them papers don’t say. I was there when his body done arrived at the funeral. He was torn to pieces. They lied about the shooting being how he died.”

I dug through the file again and quickly re-read everything I could regarding Nathaniel Colburn. His date of death did show as happening during the time of the Battle of Gettysburg, but that was the only connection. Deeper into the file I discovered more personal information about Nathaniel, although Colburn must’ve known I would have found this.

“Some good reading there, Mr. Tyler Burke? You find anything…strange?”

I looked up and again met his eyes. I felt myself drifting into the same stupor from earlier but shook it off. “So, you were avenging your father’s murder. But he wasn’t killed during the war,” I said without looking directly at him. My annoyance grew. “Looks like the closest he even got to fighting in the war was being fitted for a uniform. He never saw battle. Not there at least. But these crazy stories I’ve read tell the story of…cannibals? Even better yet…vampires? Is that what you claim to be? Help me out with the mythology. I don’t see your fangs, Mr. Colburn. I don’t see you turning into a bat and flying out of here.”

Colburn exuded a deep laugh. “Y’all throw that word around, but you got no idea. You want to know what I am, Mr. Tyler Burke? You want to see what I see? You got a taste already, didn’t you?”

Chills ran down my body. “I did see something. Before I came in here.” I stood and readied myself to walk out, but Colburn wasn’t finished.

“Good. Now, do you want more? Your friends on the other side of the glass have seen it. They know.”

“What do they know, Mr. Colburn?” I sat back down, my eyes remaining locked on his.

And my vision again started to blur…

*****

July 5, 1863

Young Thaddeus Colburn walked into the parlor where the funeral of his father was to be held. Ahead, he viewed a box that contained Nathaniel’s remains. The casket was closed, but the inquisitive youngster wanted to see him one last time. As his mother released his hand, Thaddeus decided to have a look. Nobody else was around, so he used all his might to lift the top. What he found inside threw him back.

The unrecognizable remains of Nathaniel Colburn stared up at Thaddeus. At first glance, he discovered mangled flesh and body parts simply placed together. He moved in for a closer look. Before he knew what he was doing, Thaddeus reached in and touched the body, sending him into a trance…

The Clayton brothers stood shoulder to shoulder, one pointing his pistol at Nathaniel’s chest. The other gripped his holster as he grinned from one corner of his grubby mouth. Tobacco juice rolled down his chin, and he spat off to the side without losing eye contact with the intended target.

“You really done screwed up this time, Colburn,” said Arthur Clayton, who kept his weapon pointed directly at Nathaniel. “You either got plum stupid overnight, or you wanted us to catch you.” The brothers stepped forward in unison as the patrons quickly dispersed. Nathaniel turned from his barstool and stood up, unafraid of what stood in front of him.

“Boys, we got a war ragin’ in this country. And you two wanna come at me? I hear they got a battle up there at Gettysburg, so why don’t y’all go do something worthwhile and help our illustrious president take on the real enemy.”

“Your kind is the enemy,” Charlie Clayton replied. “You done killed your last meal. Shoulda known we’d smell it and come for ya.”

Nathaniel sighed and shook his head. He then let out a chuckle and pointed to Arthur’s gun. “I hate to tell ya. But that thing won’t stop me. But you already know that. Don’tcha?”

“What in samhill is he talkin’ about?” Charlie’s grin turned to confusion as he looked to Arthur. Charlie was the younger of the two brothers and his newfound line of questioning showed him to be the least knowledgeable one. “Why does he think he can’t be shot and killed?”

“Cuz he can’t,” Arthur replied. “But it’ll slow him down and give us enough time to dispose of him. Guess I shoulda taken you on more trips to see the whole process.”

Nathaniel stared at the brothers. The saloon had now completely cleared out. “So little brother don’t even know?” Nathaniel smiled. “Ornery and ignorant. He’ll be delicious.”

Nathaniel licked his upper lip. Arthur didn’t hesitate. His first shot tore into Nathaniel’s knee, and he screamed out in pain. He stumbled but didn’t fall. Charlie jumped back and cowered against the wall. Arthur cocked the hammer once more and fired into Nathaniel’s other knee. This one took him to the ground.

“Grab the rope, Charlie!” he hollered. “Charlie! Move! Ain’t got but a minute before he gets his wits about him!”

Charlie leapt up and pulled the noose from the bag he’d brought inside. Arthur jerked it away and wrapped it around Nathaniel’s neck. Charlie stepped up, and the two of them hauled the body out of the saloon and to their horses. Onlookers gathered to watch while others ran away in fear. The brothers tied the rope to one of the horses before Arthur climbed up and smacked it. The horse took off in a huff, dragging Nathaniel Colburn behind it. Charlie hopped on his horse and quickly followed.

They rode to an isolated area just outside of town before stopping. Arthur jumped from the saddle and raced back to check the body. Nathaniel didn’t move as Charlie approached.

“Keep your distance! He ain’t dead. Grab the shovel and pickax. We gonna do this right.”

Charlie did as ordered and grabbed the tools from the saddle. Arthur took them, but before he could strike, a hand gripped his ankle. Nathaniel Colburn’s pale face stared up at him, and an evil grin formed. Arthur froze in place and dropped the tools. The grip tightened, and Arthur screamed. A second later, Nathaniel’s neck exploded from Charlie’s rifle. He released the hold, and Arthur grabbed the pickax. He showed no hesitation in burying the ax into Nathaniel’s skull.

“Die you devil!” He brought up the ax once more and swung it down into his shoulder. The impact was so powerful, Nathaniel’s arm dangled until Arthur grabbed it and ripped it clean off.

“He…will…find…you.” Those were Nathaniel’s last words as the brothers continued to dismember the body.

Thaddeus jumped back from the coffin and fell to the floor. He was met by his mom who chastised him for getting too close to the body. Her shrill voice brought others who also hollered at the boy. For the first time, though, young Thaddeus was unafraid of the scary adults. The vision wasn’t the only thing that his father’s remains showed him.

You will know…when you need to feed.

“Yes, papa.”

*****

I jumped from my chair and looked to the mirror. A second later, Officer David opened the

door and looked inside. “Everything okay, Mr. Burke?” he asked. “Do you need a break?”

“No. It’s all right. Just one of those…experiences I was warned about.” The guard smiled and nodded but said nothing else before closing the door.

“Guess that’s why they don’t let many come to see me no more,” Colburn laughed.

“How’d you do that? What the hell are you?” I sat back down and didn’t take my eyes off his.

“My father wouldn’t speak much of it except to say that we’re…special. And the world doesn’t approve of our kind of special. When they burned and hung witches, many of us were killed. But that’s not what we are.”

“We? Are others like you still out there?”

Colburn sighed and wrung his hands. “I believe myself to be the last. Although I do often…call out. I’ve sensed things, but over the years, nobody has come forward. Or heard my calls. Except you. But you ain’t like me.”

My energy drained, I sat down, but I kept my chair far enough away. Although keeping my distance didn’t seem to matter, as Colburn had a way of getting inside my head from several rooms away. “I think I might need to end this interview for today. But I would love to come back and talk again when I’m feeling more up to it.”

“Yeah, the effects of the first time I mess your head always makes y’all sick. Just don’t yack in here or they might make you clean it up.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, and Colburn followed with a hearty one of his own. To say I was connecting with this man would be a fair assessment, but something pulled at me not to get too close. Inmates can often come off as charming in order to gain your trust. Although I have no idea what he has to gain by using me, unless he wants me to go public with his story.

One glance at the window brought Officer David and another guard back. I told him I was ready to go for the night, but that I wanted to meet with him again the next morning. Both guards that escorted me out of the prison warned me against getting too attached, no matter how fantastic his story might be.

“Whatever the situation, the guy fucks with people’s heads. Don’t let him do that to you,” Officer David ordered. I assured him I knew what I was doing, even though deep down I was telling myself to run far away from this situation.

But this was long from over.

*****

“I don’t know how to explain it. Maybe they were pumping in some kind of barbiturate gas that made me hallucinate. I felt like my head was going to explode,” I said to Graham. He had asked that I keep him in the loop on what I found, but I couldn’t tell how much of my story he believed.

“So what you’re saying, Tyler…the man actually is more than a hundred and fifty years old? And he has this power to send your mind into some sort of time machine where you see what really happened all those years ago?”

“He took me back further than that. I got to see his father’s execution by the men he eventually killed…and apparently ate. Or at least drank their blood.” I smacked my forehead. What I just admitted to my college advisor sounded so ridiculous, yet I still said it.

Graham remained silent on the other end, but I could hear his deep breathing, which he does

when he’s thinking really hard. “So what, he’s a vampire?”

I chuckled. “Oh no. I brought up that word and he probably would have torn me limb from limb had he not been chained up. Honestly, I don’t know what the hell he is or how he’s alive. Cannibalism isn’t the secret drug for immortality. Not to humans anyway.”

“Okay, Tyler. You need to go back and dig a little more. There’s so much going on at that prison. Damn, I wish I would have taken a sabbatical and gone up there myself when I first got wind of this.”

The last thing I wanted to do was venture back to that prison, despite what I said to Colburn. I wanted to head back to New York and forget everything that happened. But I couldn’t. Maybe Colburn implanted himself in my head, but I had to return. Graham was right. What I’d uncovered about his story was just the beginning.

DAY 2

The guards at the front of the prison gave me some trouble getting past the gate until I told them I wanted to talk to the warden and wasn’t going to leave until he personally kicked me out. After a few minutes, they finally let me onto the grounds and instructed me on where to go. There were to be guards waiting for me, same as it was the first day.

“I’m sorry about the hassle, Mr. Burke,” said Warden Bowman, who stood with the guards when I pulled up. “I’m just looking out for you. I’d have thought your experiences yesterday would’ve scared you off. There’s a reason we don’t let anyone near him.”

The condescending tone was a bit of a surprise, given how yesterday went. I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or fear for my safety. “Well I would like to thank you for letting me see him

again. I know things were strange. But it’s a fascinating story, and I’d love to learn more.”

“Oh, I’m sure he will show you more. Mr. Colburn isn’t shy about telling stories.”

The warden and his guards escorted me into the same meeting area as the previous day. When I walked into the observation room, Colburn sat at the table as he had the day before. It was as if he hadn’t moved.

Officer David entered the room and told me I had a half hour with him before I needed to leave. I didn’t bother to question the reduced time. When he opened the door, Colburn’s eyes immediately met mine. My head turned to the mirror and then to the ground.

“Good day, Mr. Tyler Burke. So pleased that you would return to keep me company once more,” he said. I jumped at the sound of the door slamming. “Easy, son. Go on and sit down and let’s chat. You ain’t got but thirty minutes, right?”

Colburn didn’t take his eyes off me as I sat down. “I won’t bother to ask how you knew exactly how much time they are giving me,” I said.

“And why should you? You need to spend your time learning all the secrets of the man who won’t die. Ain’t that right?” Colburn’s eyes stared daggers through me as he spoke. I had no choice but to look up at him. “There it is. Now we can get down to business.”

“Business? What kind of business do you think I am here to conduct, Mr. Colburn?” I pretended to look through the file, but I wasn’t fooling anyone.

“You know, I fed before that day,” he blurted out. I popped up in my seat. “You read about that in them papers? The law tried to arrest me for lots of missing people, but I made sure they weren’t found. But don’t you worry. They was all bad people.”

Sifting through the file, I quickly found a mention of his connection to several people who presumably died in 1885. “Tell me more. Why do you need to…feed?”

“Survival, son.” Colburn told me about every victim. Every drop of blood he spilled. My hand shook as I tried to take notes. But as I sat there listening to his story, my arm moved too close on the table. Yesterday, even with the visions put in my head, I was careful to stay far enough away. But on this second day, my foggy mind had forgotten one important detail. And Colburn grabbed a hold. His grip was ice cold.

“It’s okay, Mr. Tyler Burke. You want to see the best story? The one you came for?” he said.

The blurriness returned, and soon I was looking through the eyes of the man who, in 1885, was on a mission more than two decades in the making.

*****

Thaddeus Colburn sauntered up the dirt road and toward the new courthouse in the center of town. He had watched them walk inside last week. They worked at the courthouse. Clearly, they had aged in the past twenty-two years, but it was them. Of that he was certain.

“Time to feed,” he said as he continued into the courthouse. Several weeks had passed since he last consumed a meal. It had become increasingly more difficult to disappear since he first fed on his eighteenth birthday. The law had gotten close but were unable to catch him or prove a connection to any deaths for which he was responsible.

Although his father was long dead in physical form, he still spoke to Thaddeus and guided him on how to go about staying immortal. But on this day, he ignored the voice telling him to let the men be. Because the rage that consumed him for twenty-two years could be controlled no more. These men would pay for their part in his father’s death.

Walking into the courthouse, Thaddeus smelled the two men nearby. All other scents were pushed away as his focus centered on the targets. The targets who murdered his father but foolishly never thought to come after Thaddeus himself. That was their mistake. They thought Nathaniel was the last one. But they were wrong.

Thaddeus just hadn’t grown into his lineage when he was a mere boy. The Clayton brothers had no idea he even existed. Their naive attitude in thinking they eradicated the world of all the special immortal bloodlines is what put them in the position they were in the moment Thaddeus walked into the courthouse.

The brothers were talking to their colleagues when Thaddeus approached. He didn’t hesitate to interrupt. “Arthur Clayton. Charlie Clayton,” he said as he stood a mere two feet from them.

“Can I help you, son?” Arthur said as he puffed out his chest.

“Do you know who I am? Did he tell you about me?” Thaddeus stretched his fingers into fists and then out again.

“’Fraid I don’t know you. Best to get steppin’.” Arthur turned back around and returned to his previous conversation.

“Nathaniel Colburn was my father.” The brothers stopped talking and turned to look at the man who just name dropped the last blood immortal they killed more than twenty years earlier. Their faces turned pale. Thaddeus looked at the others in the group. “Y’all will want to step away. I wouldn’t want your fancy clothing gettin’ messy.”

“What is this? Who are you…” Charlie began. But Thaddeus cut him off. And in the process cut his throat with a small blade he’d smuggled into the courthouse. Blood spurted from the wound. Arthur froze in place, but instead of using the blade once more, Thaddeus attacked with his bare hands and fingers, tearing away at the flesh. Screams filled the lobby of the courthouse as people scattered. Thaddeus didn’t hold back as he feasted on the brothers for more than a minute before he was tackled to the ground by two guards.

But by that point, his work was done.

*****

“You didn’t even care about getting caught,” I said. “You attacked and killed those men in front of witnesses. It’s no wonder they sentenced you to death.”

“They would never be brought to justice for their crimes. Vigilantes who thought they could interpret the laws as they saw fit. Killing my daddy and scores of others like him. So, I fed that day, and I fed well. I would be all right for at least a month.”

I stared at him for a moment, taking in what he said. “Mr. Colburn, you need to feed to continue this…immortality. Correct?”

“You’re about to ask the obvious question that I’m surprised took you so long,” he responded. “You want to know how I continued feeding all this time while incarcerated and serving life. Is that what you’re trying to determine, Mr. Tyler Burke?”

Was he reading my mind?

“Every week, they provide me with a delicious steak dinner with all the trimmings. And I get it…rare. Nice and bloody. You get my drift?” I nodded, trying to fathom what he was telling me.

I eat my meals.

“And sometimes…many times in fact, I must gather my own food. I get to hunt. but not just anyone. The killers. The ones who would’ve been hung back in my day.”

My pen stopped moving on the paper. The nausea from the vision returned, but that wasn’t the only reason. The stories being told, should they be true, could bring the entire prison down. They were murdering inmates and feeding them to this thing to keep him alive.

I turned my head and looked at the mirror. “They can’t hear us. Don’t worry.”

“How do you…” I didn’t finish the sentence. A moment later, a guard opened the door and asked if I needed anything. I told him I was finished and wanted to leave.

“I’ll see ya again soon, Mr. Tyler Burke,” I heard Colburn say as I exited. But I didn’t turn around.

After leaving the prison, my brain fired on all cylinders. I wanted to find any logical explanation to what Colburn said, but my own eyes had seen the truth. Thaddeus Colburn would remain immortal as long as he fed. And the Maine State Prison was making sure that continued.

There was one person I needed to call. Unfortunately, Graham wasn’t answering.

DAY 3

My return to the prison the next day began pleasantly, as I showed my credentials to get inside while acting happy and positive. Graham texted me to go back one more time, even though I didn’t get to explain everything Colburn had told me.

Anger had built up after having digested everything, but I saved it for the warden when I walked into his office. His back was to me, but he turned quickly when I slammed the door.

“What did you let me walk into?” I hollered at him.

“I warned you, Mr. Burke. I told you not to dig deeper into this situation. But you had to get your story. Curiosity got the better of you.” Warden Bowman walked over to the window and looked out into the courtyard.

“Curiosity, nothing. What the hell is going on here? Hiding an inmate who is basically immortal and feeding him…” The warden cut me off.

“You want the real story…on Prisoner Zero?” he said and turned back to his desk. “Here it is.” Warden Bowman grabbed another file from his desk and tossed it to the edge. I sat down and began to look through the documents. They were profiles of some of the worst inmates the prison had ever taken in. Murderers, basically. But each had something in common. All had died mysteriously while incarcerated, just as Colburn had claimed.

“You sick bastard. You know what he is and you’ve been feeding him all this time,” I said, finally figuring out their game. “Putting human blood into his meals to keep him alive? Setting him loose to kill other inmates? Why?” The warden’s hard stare softened as he nodded.

“We have been getting…funding…to continue studies on him. It’s been going on since he was brought in. Plus, there are other…financial factors.” The warden flopped into his chair, his limbs going limp.

“Who’s been funding him? The government?” I didn’t know where the hell I was going with that comment, but it seemed like a plausible faction to target.

“Who else? All I know is I’ve been at this shit way too long, and I want out.” His eyes sunk. I wanted to continue asking him about Colburn when my phone rang.

*****

“The death penalty never ended in this place,” I said to Graham Baker after explaining my entire experience since arriving at the prison. “The executions were just kept quiet and performed in a different manner. Whenever the state of Maine wanted to put down a criminal, they simply set Thaddeus Colburn loose to feed. And when he was finished, they would save…leftovers for later. The official forms list each one as having been cremated.”

I could hear breathing on the other line, followed by a chuckle. “Holy shit. Sounds like you made quite the discovery, Tyler,” Graham said. “Congratulations. You aren’t going to stop, are you? This is the ultimate.”

“The ultimate what?”

“Discovery. Go see him again before you leave. It sounds like there is more he wants to tell you.” I didn’t respond. I simply hung up and walked back into the warden’s office. He sat at his desk as if waiting for me to return.

“One more meeting with Colburn. I’m heading there now.”

Not waiting for a response, I closed the door and walked briskly toward the meeting room. I ran into Officer David who showed concern on his face for the first time since I had met him.

“You should reconsider, Mr. Burke,” he said. “He’s getting into your head. It’s what he does. This is why we don’t get too close.”

“I appreciate that, Officer David. This’ll be my last meeting with him. I just need to get a few more questions answered, then I’m heading home. This is so much bigger than some college thesis. I have to know everything.”

Officer David didn’t argue. In fact, he didn’t utter another word as we approached the viewing room. But we didn’t stop there, as Officer David took me directly to Colburn. Again, he looked as if he hadn’t moved from the previous day.

“I must commend you, Mr. Tyler Burke. You’re a persistent little soldier. I admire that. And I hope you went back to your hotel room each night and wrote down everything you neglected to write while you were here. Because I believe in you. I believe you can tell my story to the world.”

Without hesitation, I sat down in the chair and reached my arm across the table. He looked at me dumbfounded, then smiled and sat back in his chair.

“Show me more. I want to see the rest of your story. I want to see everything you haven’t shown me.” Colburn locked eyes with mine, but I felt no tug at my mind or my arm.

“But I have shown you everything you need to write your story. You will tell the world about us. About what we are. About how we stay alive.” For the first time in three days, the pleasant and friendly grin had become something more sinister, and my blood ran cold. My feet scurried as I jumped to my feet, sending the chair rolling back into the wall.

“What is this? We? Tell my story?” Although still in restraints, Colburn stood from his chair and smiled as he leaned across the table toward me.

“Look in your pocket, son. Bet you don’t remember grabbing that from the guard, do you?” I slid my hand into my pocket and revealed a key. I then lost all control over my body and dropped the key on the table before falling backwards to the ground. I looked over to the window, a sign for them to come in and intervene. But nobody arrived. The door remained closed.

“What…is…happening?” I slurred as Colburn unlocked his restraints. Again, I looked at the door, but nobody responded. A freed Thaddeus Colburn walked to me and bent down. My body locked in a frozen state, but I didn’t fear that he wanted to hurt me.

“Write your story, Mr. Tyler Burke. Tell the world, my friend.” With that, Colburn stood and opened the door. No guards stood on the other side.

What felt like a year was in reality only a few minutes, but I soon had control over my body once more and rushed out the door. Looking around, the entire area appeared abandoned. I ran around to the viewing room, but the door was obstructed. Using all my weight, I pushed my way through and found what was on the other side.

What used to be a Maine State Prison guard laid in a pool of blood. Officer David’s body…at least part of it…was sprawled across the other side of the room. I didn’t look to see where the other half was hiding.

I tore down the hallway looking for anyone, but not finding a soul. A minute later, I made my way to the front of the prison where I finally found the rest of the guards laying on the ground, dead. Their bodies brutalized in a manner I never imagined possible. I turned to the front door. The warden’s decapitated body sat in a chair. His head had been placed in his lap.

I raced past the carnage and outside the building. More blood led toward the entrance. Across the way, the front gate stood wide open. Two figures stood next to a car.

Colburn turned first. He looked me in the eyes and smiled. Then the other figure turned: Graham Baker. His face and shirt covered in blood. He licked something from his teeth before waving my way. Both men climbed into Graham’s car and drove off. My mind became a blur, as a familiar voice spoke to me once more.

Write your story. Tell the world.

Eric Woods resides in Springfield, Illinois and has been writing since grade school. He has published six novels, two novellas, and one book of stage plays. His seventh novel will be released in June 2024. He writes mostly in the horror and thriller genres. Eric has been a local freelance writer since 2005 and serves as a tour guide for the Lincoln Ghost Walk in Springfield. He earned a Bachelor’s Degree in English and a Master’s Degree in Communication from the University of Illinois Springfield.