Until Tonight

A Story by M.a. Benjamin

I wanted to write something, so i wrote a back story for an antagonist in a book Im writing (and will hopefully finish someday.) Enjoy

The watchtower’s Sirens interrupted the silence of dusk abruptly; blaring loud enough to deafen the snowy plain itself had it a pair of ears. Spotlights cut through the late evening like gigantic knives, spilling its bright off-white luminance on the snow-ridden dead turf that surrounded the building. The penitentiary stood alone on the frozen Siberian tundra, like a tombstone upon a grave, dull, grey, and ominous in presence. Until tonight it appeared abandoned. Until tonight, nothing moved near its walls. A figure juked wildly through the shadows, avoiding the lights, footsteps masked by the howling of dogs and sirens. Chaos enveloped everything around, drowning out the quiet serenity that the scavengers and rodents inhabiting the far off forest usually enjoyed.

When it had become too exhausting to elude the guard tower’s sentinels of light and sound, the battered, grizzled inmate began to run as fast and hard as he could for the thin woodland at the tundra’s edge. The man was a monster in size; shy of eight feet tall and solid as stone, with a cold stare that would make a bear soil itself. Until tonight he had been sentenced for a lifetime of residency in the high security prison, committed for crimes so violent that death itself would have been too merciful. Until tonight the world had forgotten about his malicious acts. That was until tonight. His filthy shoulder length hair flew in his escape like a victory banner, and a cruel grin crossed his bearded, scarred face. Had he felt some remorse for his actions, perhaps he would have stayed in solitary. But he had concluded that none but God himself would know his driving motivation, and none but the fallen angel cast from heaven would ever understand.

His cruelty had not ended with conviction either. Inside they called him the Butcher, not because of his heinous act in his Austrian home, but because of the grim fate of those who crossed him within the prison, inmate and guard alike. None had instigated him directly; one inmate merely sat too close in the cafeteria, a mistake he would never get the chance to make again. Like a predator of the jungle pouncing a wounded animal, the butcher was on top of him, slamming the other inmate’s face hard into the table, shattering most of his teeth on impact. Before his victim could even scream, he had snapped his jaw almost clean off of his face, sinking his teeth into the bridge of his nose and tearing it off in a mess of blood. The butcher stood, letting the corpse slump forward on the table, and spit its nose at the ascending guards. It took twelve of them and four broken arms to finally subdue him and move him into confinement.

A spotlight focused down on his frighteningly large frame, and the groaning of thick iron doors were followed immediately after. They had sent the guards and dogs. Unless they had guns, they didn’t stand a chance. He knew this, and could only assume they did as well. The Butcher drew closer to the forest as the dark blue horizon in the distance was drained of its color by impending night. He could feel the breath of a dog as it drew closer, and turned to snatch it up as it lunged at him. It yelped in shock and pain as he took the guard dog by its throat and torso and spun around quickly, slamming it hard into another one nearby.

A shot rang out and caught the Butcher in the back of his shoulder as he turned to run again, but he refused to fall forward from impact. Until tonight freedom was only a daydream. Until tonight, he had only felt the crisp cold air through iron bars. As he reached the edge of the woods, another shot rang out and caught him in the back of the knee. This time he stuttered and fell, rolling down a small, shrub infested drop. Scraped, bruised and wounded, the Butcher dragged himself on as the sound of the remaining Dogs drew closer. As he crawled up to a stream, he noticed a figure standing in the dark. The man was no guard however; he was middle aged, and draped in black with a well-trimmed goatee and grey eyes that pierced the dark like his own. “Byron?” the man inquired as he walked through the stream and moved closer. Until tonight no one had called him by his name, not since his arrest. Until tonight no one had even come this close to him since the act of violence within the prison’s cafeteria.

Two Dogs and three prison guards appeared shortly after. Before the guards even realized the other man was there, before any of the hunting party could even blink, the stranger drew a pistol and fired off five shots so fast that they seemed simultaneous. The bullets flew forward like drops of paint off of a brush, hitting the dead center of each target's head in a splash of blood that created a morbid muriel of red and white on the snow. The surrounding wilderness was left in silence again. Byron had never seen anyone show the same cold-blooded lack of remorse he himself had developed. The butcher lay stunned in the dirt and snow, listening to the sound of a passing gust of cold wind before the stranger spoke gain. “My name is Mr. Carlyle. “ The man spoke English, of which Byron normally understood very little. But when Mr. Carlyle spoke, he could comprehend it all, as if the man spoke his native tongue. He knelt down and made direct eye contact with him. “I want to help you Byron. I represent an order of like-minded individuals, people like you and I. I want to help you Byron, because in return, you will help me.” The stranger extended his hand to the wounded giant. Until tonight, no one understood Byron but himself and the higher powers above and below. Until tonight Byron was just a monster, a caged animal with nowhere to inflict his murderous lust for blood and violence. Nobody could comprehend his past suffering. Until tonight Byron was alone in the world. That was, until tonight.