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Authors: Joseph Nassise
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a transplant, given her weakened condition, but Sam wasn't worried about it at all. Just one more victim and everything would be all right for his little girl.
After disposing of the wino's corpse, Sam spent the afternoon looking at options. He finally came back to the idea he'd had on Monday afternoon; scope the bus station and hope he got lucky. It wasn't the best of plans, in fact it left a fair amount of room for error, but he was too tired to come up with anything new.
One more, he thought.
Just one more.
Friday Evening
The terminal was crowded, the bad weather keeping the majority of the customers inside and out of the rain. Sam stalked through their midst, hunting for just the right opportunity, just the right set of circumstances to put things in his favour. He found it at half past seven.
The girl had come off the last bus, the sum total of her belongings packed into a small suitcase that had clearly seen better days. She strode past Sam without looking up, and something clicked in the back of his mind. Somehow he knew, she was the one.
He followed her across the station at a discreet distance, watching. No-one came to greet her, no one seemed to care. She wasn't looking around for anyone, like so many of the other passengers were doing, either. She simply strode for the exit with resigned strides, her bag clutched in one hand.
Five minutes later, he pulled his car up beside her as she walked down the edge of the street.
"Need a lift?" he asked.
"No," she said, without turning to look at him.
The rain was still coming down steadily, and her thin clothes were already soaked through.
"Come on," Sam replied, "I don't bite. It's pouring out. You'll catch your death before you get to wherever you're going."
She glanced at him, but kept walking.
"Okay, suit yourself. I'm making a delivery to the soup kitchen and thought you looked like you could use a hot meal and a bed, but if you're not interested …" He started rolling up the window, letting the car drift ahead of her.
The offer of a hot meal was what did it.
She hadn't had one in more than a week, she said, once she climbed inside the car.
He let her prattle on for several more minutes, nodding agreeably where needed, until she let her guard down.
When she did, he clubbed her just above her left ear with his fist.
This time, it didn't work.
She reeled from the blow, but didn't lose consciousness. When Sam raised his fist to strike at her again, she stabbed a penknife into his side, just beneath the third rib.
"I knew it, you motherfucker!" she screamed, stabbing him again.
The pain was excruciating. Sam turned away from the road, using both arms to fend off another attack, and was forced to take his foot off the gas. The car slowed noticeably.
That was all she needed.
She stabbed at his face, forcing him to turn away, and as he did so, she threw open the door and tumbled out into the rain. As the car continued on, Sam looked back through the mirror in time to see her climb to her feet and charge off into the night.
They were in an industrial part of town, surrounded by empty offices and vacant lots still under construction. Chances were that no-one would see or hear them, no matter what happened. With only a few hours left before his deadline, Sam decided he couldn't afford to let the girl escape.
He pulled the car off the road, threw it into park and chased after her on foot through the vacant lot into which she had disappeared.
If she'd been quiet, she might have gotten away. The rain and the darkness made it difficult for him to see. All she'd had to do was to keep down, out of sight, and she'd probably have been able to slip away into the gloom, never to be seen again. But instead she was screaming for help at the top of her lungs, and that made it easy for him to catch up with her.
The crowbar he'd taken with him from under the front seat did the rest.
Dragging her unconscious form back to the car, he threw it into the trunk and drove
After disposing of the wino's corpse, Sam spent the afternoon looking at options. He finally came back to the idea he'd had on Monday afternoon; scope the bus station and hope he got lucky. It wasn't the best of plans, in fact it left a fair amount of room for error, but he was too tired to come up with anything new.
One more, he thought.
Just one more.
Friday Evening
The terminal was crowded, the bad weather keeping the majority of the customers inside and out of the rain. Sam stalked through their midst, hunting for just the right opportunity, just the right set of circumstances to put things in his favour. He found it at half past seven.
The girl had come off the last bus, the sum total of her belongings packed into a small suitcase that had clearly seen better days. She strode past Sam without looking up, and something clicked in the back of his mind. Somehow he knew, she was the one.
He followed her across the station at a discreet distance, watching. No-one came to greet her, no one seemed to care. She wasn't looking around for anyone, like so many of the other passengers were doing, either. She simply strode for the exit with resigned strides, her bag clutched in one hand.
Five minutes later, he pulled his car up beside her as she walked down the edge of the street.
"Need a lift?" he asked.
"No," she said, without turning to look at him.
The rain was still coming down steadily, and her thin clothes were already soaked through.
"Come on," Sam replied, "I don't bite. It's pouring out. You'll catch your death before you get to wherever you're going."
She glanced at him, but kept walking.
"Okay, suit yourself. I'm making a delivery to the soup kitchen and thought you looked like you could use a hot meal and a bed, but if you're not interested …" He started rolling up the window, letting the car drift ahead of her.
The offer of a hot meal was what did it.
She hadn't had one in more than a week, she said, once she climbed inside the car.
He let her prattle on for several more minutes, nodding agreeably where needed, until she let her guard down.
When she did, he clubbed her just above her left ear with his fist.
This time, it didn't work.
She reeled from the blow, but didn't lose consciousness. When Sam raised his fist to strike at her again, she stabbed a penknife into his side, just beneath the third rib.
"I knew it, you motherfucker!" she screamed, stabbing him again.
The pain was excruciating. Sam turned away from the road, using both arms to fend off another attack, and was forced to take his foot off the gas. The car slowed noticeably.
That was all she needed.
She stabbed at his face, forcing him to turn away, and as he did so, she threw open the door and tumbled out into the rain. As the car continued on, Sam looked back through the mirror in time to see her climb to her feet and charge off into the night.
They were in an industrial part of town, surrounded by empty offices and vacant lots still under construction. Chances were that no-one would see or hear them, no matter what happened. With only a few hours left before his deadline, Sam decided he couldn't afford to let the girl escape.
He pulled the car off the road, threw it into park and chased after her on foot through the vacant lot into which she had disappeared.
If she'd been quiet, she might have gotten away. The rain and the darkness made it difficult for him to see. All she'd had to do was to keep down, out of sight, and she'd probably have been able to slip away into the gloom, never to be seen again. But instead she was screaming for help at the top of her lungs, and that made it easy for him to catch up with her.
The crowbar he'd taken with him from under the front seat did the rest.
Dragging her unconscious form back to the car, he threw it into the trunk and drove
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