Farmer, Philip Jose – Riverworld 06 – ( Shorts) Tales of Riverworld

“I don’t like the sounds of this nohow,” said Crockett.

“Nothing happened the first month,” continued Mary, “other than us trying to adjust to this new world. Egyptians turned out to be right nice to us. We got along fine. And then the killings started.”

“The Ripper?” asked Bowie.

“One and the same,” said Mary. “The five of us recognized his handiwork right off. Not only the victims got resurrected here, but their murderer as well. The bastard killed his prey from behind, slashing open their throats with his knife. Afterward, he mutilated the bod-

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ies. Cut them to shreds, tearing their insides apart. And, of course, his victims were always women.”

“It took us six weeks to catch “im,” said Cathy. “Six long weeks of watching and waiting for the bugger to make a mistake. He finally did, and we bagged ‘im. Caught the bastard red-handed.” The woman laughed at her grisly pun. “Bloody mess it was, too.”

“Who was he?” asked Mason.

“Some middle-class prig whose father died from the clap,” said Mary. “He blamed the old man’s death on whores in general and figured he’d eliminate the problem with a knife.”

“I thought the mentally ill were cured before their resurrection,” said Bowie.

“He weren’t insane,” replied Mary, “at least not by his own standards. The Ripper felt he was doing society a favor. Thought the same when he returned to life. Damned maniac considered women to be servants of the devil. He felt it his sacred obligation to punish immoral behavior.”

“Lots of that goin’ round,” said Davy Crockett. “Must have kept him busy.”

“He killed twelve women in those six weeks,” said Mary, her voice grim. “Soon as we had him, the bastard tried to commit suicide. He might be mad, but he weren’t crazy. Ripper knew that death wasn’t final on the River. Instead, he’d be born somewhere else, without anyone knowing a thing about him. What more could a murderer ask? This resurrection business meant he could kill all he liked, without ever being punished.”

“Death offered him a perfect method of escape,” added Cathy. “That’s why we couldn’t let him die. Pharaoh gave the Ripper to us to do what we wanted. According to him, we that suffered from the Ripper’s

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crimes on Earth deserved to set his punishment in the afterlife. It was Mary who came up with the plan.”

“You decided to keep him alive,” said Bowie, comprehension growing within him. “So he couldn’t harm anyone else.”

“Right you are, guv,” said Mary. “Weren’t even plannin’ to hurt him. We might be lowborn, but we ain’t savages. Then the Ripper tried killin’ Annie Chapman during an escape attempt. That’s when we cut off his fingers and toes and put out his eyes. And put him in that cage there. Haven’t had any problems since then.

“The five of us take turns guarding him. Mostly makin’ sure he don’t succeed in killing himself. It ain’t much fun, but somebody’s got to do it.”

The woman lowered her crossbow. “You’ve heard my story. Still want to set the Ripper free?”

Slowly, Bowie shook his head. “No. But there must be a better way to handle—”

“I’m waiting to hear one,” interrupted Mary. “Whatever gods resurrected us all, they didn’t provide any easy answers. Your friend told me the name of your boat. Well, that’s the way I see our problem. If we let the Ripper die, he’s reborn to kill again. And keeping him alive ain’t much better. Either way, he’s unfinished business.”

Silently, Davy Crockett stared at the mutilated man huddled at the far side of the cage. The Ripper chewed his dreamgum, lost in the mad world of his own mind. The frontiersman shook his head and turned away from the bars. “What do you do when his fingers and toes grow back?” he asked.

“We cut them off again,” said Mary. “And again and again and again.”

On the way back to the boat, Socrates, who had not

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said a word during their entire confrontation, voiced the thought that was in all of their minds. “That,” he declared sadly, “whatever it may be, is not justice.”