"Maybe I died, and went to hell," Jacob grumbled looking over his map once again adding another sticker for the latest rape Angela's told him about. Gloriana Burns, Gloria and his granddaughter, right in the middle of the damn supermarket. It was just so insanely brazen, but a little going over his notes and he found out that the only potential witness that wasn't a previous victim was a sack boy who had been conveniently sent into the back to get a tube of a particular brand of toothpaste.
The other potential witnesses say they didn't see anything but he could see it in their eyes, he swears he could. The other women that surrounded his biological granddaughter and watched her get raped by a monster had most certainly seen it – and they enjoyed watching. A new rape almost every day and they were working together now to cover for their rapist now. That just might be the worst part of it. They were covering for their rapist so well that the only reason he even knew about them was that Angela would come in her to rub it in. She wouldn't say it like that of course, she would sound concerned – but every day she also would just happen to mention that the baby bumps should start showing up in another month or so.
And he couldn't even warn the other neighbors, they worked together so well that he knew they'd never believe him. Maybe toward the beginning, but no chance now. There was a time where he felt a sick glee that he was the least impotent man in town, but now – if in a different way – he felt like the most impotent and it burned inside. Angela was right before she was attacked – those years as sheriff, they trusted him and he used his power as sheriff and as a fertile man to use the wives of his friends and neighbors as his personal harem. Maybe it was true, he had died and was now he was in hell.
The old man, turning more surly and hateful with each passing day as he gets less sleep and feels more and more helpless, does the only thing he can think of doing. Try to get something else done to make a show of it, then go back out into the park with a rifle to try to kill the monster – again. Something quick so that people don't ask questions and Alan can handle the rest.
He looks at the Calender for inspiration, and sees the date. July 19th. He tries not to do the mental math about what implies about how many of the women of his town have been invaded by the monster but some small part of him can't help but darkly say 'one almost every day since mid-May'. Its marked that the Pre-Registration for Classes starts today, so he nods to nobody in particular as he picks up the phone. Call them, see if they need any security help or anything the Sheriff's office can help with – they won't – and then go hunting. His eyes naturally go toward the map he's been making as he starts dialling the number. . .
And he pauses. He tells himself its harder to notice something that isn't there then something that is, and he tells himself that it took about 2 months of good data – not saying as victims but as data – to really make it work. Strange, you'd think the community college just up the road would be the one place where attractive and fertile women were guaranteed to be practically every day anywhere near Putnam, but not one attack has occurred there. Or within a quarter-mile in any direction of the campus for that matter.
Jacob pauses, and starts pulling out his notes. A 5th grade teacher, a house wife, a gas station attendant that just graduated high school, another house wife, a bartender – the list keeps going and he gets more and more excited as he goes on – a librarian, a gardener – when he's halfway though the list he's convinced he's on to something and just keeps going to make sure.
When he's done, he gets his service revolver and makes sure its fully loaded before heading over to the campus, cursing under his breath. He was so overwhelmed by the insane pace, scale, and depravity of what was happening that he didn't stop and look to see what wasn't happening. No attacks on the campus, and none of the victims were students, staff, or faculty. There were answers there, there had to be. He didn't plan on making an arrest, not sure what he could make stick anyway when all of the victims not only weren't complaining but actively helping the rapist get away with his crimes, but he could kill the bastard by God.
—————-
Truth be told, even though Dr. Panson hadn't even bothered to learn the names of the latest students he was supposed to be advising this might be one of his favorite parts of being a professor. Helping new students picking classes they'll start taking next month, most waited until the last second so the lines were short. In fact, when Dr. Richard Panson saw that there were only two for him – a redhead and a blonde – he just smiled and motioned for them both to come in at once. They both giggle and enter his office happily.
"I think can advise you both at the same time," he speaks with obvious innuendo in his voice as he looks out into the hallway, and when satisfied he shuts the door behind him. The two young ladies are whispering among themselves, looking at him while they do it with smiles on their faces. It was good to be him, and as he motions them to shed their bags off the side of the desk they do it gladly.
"I'm sorry, but the last thing I expected to ever see was a hot science teacher." the redhead speaks up and the blonde giggles, "It's not like 'sexy' comes to mind when you hear 'Science'."
Dr. Richard Panson snickers at that, and the two young ladies who've made the mistake of stepping into his own personal "lair" in the school, "I disagree. Are you two familiar with the concept of a Pheromone? You see them all throughout the animal kingdom – when an adult animal is ready to mate many times their bodies will start pumping out chemicals that other members of their species can sense, and in the case off compatible mates there's – well, Chemistry."
"Do humans have these pheromones?" asks the blond, her fingers playing along the edge of her clothes.
