The River Runs Dry (9 page)

“Yeah...” said Liam, his words a little looser for the alcohol in his blood, “I'm not so sure. When you taste somewhere else, you won't want to come back here. Why would you, there's nothing here for you...nothing.”

Jessie's brows dropped into a light frown. “Well, what about my friends, all my friends are here.”

Liam huffed. “Friends, sure. I know what you're like Jess. You'll make new friends and move on. You'll forget about your friends.”

“No I won't. Why do you say that?”

“Because....” he struggled with his words, “because that's who you are. You haven't been the same since you came back after last time. You only hang out with Darcia now.”

“What?” said Jessie, shaking her head in confusion. “I come here all the time, I see you all the time...”

“Yeah but you don't really, do you. You come here for a few drinks on a Friday, that's the only time I see you. We used to be really close Jess, and now we barely speak.”

He was shaking his head lightly as his eyes drifted away towards the bar. “I guess I wanted to see you more,” he said quietly. “I always liked you.”

Jessie knew that. The problem was, he liked her more than she liked him. For Jessie, their friendship had always been nothing more than that – a friendship.

“I know honey, but you know how I feel about that, we've talked about it before. You're more like a brother to me, and I'll always love you as a brother.”

Liam nodded, his eyes showing signs of the alcohol now. “I know. Well maybe I'll see you here next Friday, if you haven't left already.” He spoke the words with some venom as he stood, before walking straight out, through the crowd, into the dark night.

As he left Darcia slumped down into the now vacant seat beside Jessie, a drunken smile on her face.

“What was that about?” she asked, snatching a shot from the table and sinking it in one.

“Nothing,” Jess replied blankly, “just Liam being Liam.”

Darcia had a look on her face like she couldn't understand why Jessie kept turning him down. She didn't push it though, especially now that Jessie had made up her mind to leave.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

“What about Tony? Aren't you going back with him?”

Darcia shook her head. “He's being a douche tonight so forget him. Anyway, I wanna spend time with just you, maybe talk about what you asked me.”

Jessie's ears perked up. “You mean leaving with me?”

Darcia nodded. “I've been thinking about it a bit. I dunno, maybe I should leave here as well.”

Jessie spontaneously threw her arms round her, spilling a drink as she did.

“Easy Jess, it's not certain,” Darcia laughed. “Let's go back to yours. We can talk about it there.”

Jessie leaned back, a smile still spreading over her face. “All right, let's go.”

Chapter 11

I am the predator. I am the lion. They are my prey.

Narrow eyes watched as two girls walked along in the south of the town.

Drunk girls, stupid girls. Both of them....mine.

The man watched as they spoke, his eyes locked on their dark brown hair, swishing as they bounced down the road. There were a few other people on the street, but no one would notice him, because there was nothing noticeable about him. On the outside at least. On the outside he was a man, on the inside....a hunter.

He walked slightly awkwardly, missing the odd step. It was a game to him, imitating his prey, copying their moves so that he'd fit in. His dark hair was covered in a hat, his face in the shadows and obscured. His eyes shot to the left and right as he went, following at a distance in the girl's wake, but no one could see their movements.

He was always on guard, always checking his surroundings. His senses were on edge, primed like a hunter. His eyes caught every movement around him, scanning the streets for anyone who might see him. He'd done his homework, though, and knew that there were no cameras in this part of town. No, he knew a lot about this town....it was his hunting ground now.

Soon people would learn not to go out at night, and then the games would really begin. These stupid girls up ahead. They had no idea what was coming their way. The devil would pay them a visit tonight. He'd see them suffer like he had suffered.

He had to be more careful now. The police knew about him, but they only knew
of
him, that's all. Soon they'd have more cops on the street. Soon they'd learn that this wasn't going to end. But not tonight. Tonight he'd have fun....tonight he'd take his time.

The streets here were so open and wide, and now the few people on them were beginning to thin out and disappear. It made it easy to follow, especially with the heavy dust that often settled on the sidewalks from the wide plains and deserts all around the town.

Even if you took away his ears, even if the girls were out of sight, he'd still track them. It was their footprints, he'd see them in the dirt, two sets of flat shoes, walking him right to their door. No one would notice such a thing, but he would. That's what made him such a good hunter.

He could feel the tips of his fingers tingling now. They tingled in anticipation, in anger. It was the anger that drove him, the anger of his past. He'd never be able to quench it, so he'd harness it, enjoy it. Killing was how he did that.

…

A scream threatened to sound, but was quickly blunted before its piercing shriek could be heard. His fist saw to that.

The body of the girl hit the floor suddenly. The other had already been seen to.

Silence now, except some light music playing. He turned it off. He wanted to hear the sounds of the blood, of the hair being torn, of the eyes being cut and gouged. He wanted to shut his eyes and imagine it was
her
, imagine it was
them
. His body shook at the thought.

He lay the girls side by side in the living room and drew some tape from his pocket, wrapping it tight around their heads and covering their mouths. Then he dragged two chairs from the dining room and propped them up onto them, wrapping their wrists and ankles to the arms and legs.

He set the chairs to face each other a few feet apart. He wanted these girls to watch each other. He wanted them to suffer.

He lifted some smelling salts to their noses and, one by one, their eyes came to life, a heavy fear burning inside them. The fear grew as their eyes shot around the house and centered on him, hovering over them, his face still shrouded under his cap in the dim light of the room.

Both of the girls tried to scream, as if in unison, and the man laughed as their yelps were caught behind the tape. They shuffled on their chairs and one fell over. But no matter, there was nowhere she could go.

The man walked away and reappeared with a knife. It felt so right in his hand, like an extension of his body now. It dangled there menacingly as he walked into the room, the eyes of the struggling girls zeroing in on the shining blade.

They'd seen the news. They knew what was coming. But this time it would be worse. This time he'd take his time and see them suffer.

He always cut the hair first. Get rid of that horrible fucking hair, dark and flowing. Sometimes he'd be ferocious, cut deep and tear at the clinging particles as he did. Soon one of the girl's hair was matted with blood, her locks settling on the ground all around her.

He turned to the other girl, who cowered on the floor, shaking uncontrollably and still trying to scream, still thinking it would make a difference. He didn't smile. He didn't laugh. He just stepped forward and casually lifted her chair back up, and did exactly the same to her.

Soon they were both whimpering, tears flowing from their eyes. He moved in and grabbed at one of their eye lids, holding them open to get a good look. He moved to the other girl and did the same. She was better, she looked more like
her
, so she'd go second. She can watch first, see what was about to happen to her. But she didn't look enough like
her
. No, she wasn't the one....so she'd die tonight.

The knife soon found it's way into the first girl's right eye. She wriggled and squirmed wildly as the point cut in. But this time he stopped short. He didn't cut deep, he didn't cut to the brain. No, this girl wasn't for dying yet. They were only just getting started.

The second girl watched in fear as her friend's eyes were cut out, one by one. By the time he was onto the second she'd passed out from the pain, her body convulsing and then going limp. No matter. He'd wake her again soon.

Then he turned to the second girl and took even greater pleasure in her torture. He started with her face, a face that looked so familiar to his warped mind. Familiar, but not quite close enough. He sliced at her cheeks and across her nose. He cut at her forehead and chin as blood flowed down her face.

Her pain only got worse as his blade found her eyes, teasing and taunting them before slowly, gradually, digging into her eyeball. Her scream would have pierced his eardrums were it not for the tape covering her mouth. This girl had more fight than the other one, though. She didn't pass out, she just kept on shaking, kept on struggling.

Then the man spoke, his voice cold and callous: “do you want this to end?”

She convulsed so hard now that her movements were indecipherable.
Was that a shake of the head? You don't want it to end? Or are you nodding?

“It's never going to,” he whispered again.

His knife kept slicing, kept feeling it's way around her body.

Soon he'd end it anyway, but only when he was done, only when he was satisfied.

Blood was everywhere now. It stained the girl's shirt, running down her face and all over her body, dripping from so many wounds into puddles on the floor. Opposite her the other girl still sat motionless, blood seeping from her empty eye sockets and onto her clothes. It settled to the hardwood floor and trickled towards her friend. Soon their blood would meet in the middle. The last connection between two friends...

A heavy rumble sounded suddenly.

The man's heart almost shot through his chest as a sound came from outside. It was loud, the noise of an engine pulling up. Without a second thought he pounced over to the unconscious girl and jammed the knife deep into her empty eye socket, feeling the blade slice into her brain. Her body jarred and then went limp again as the sound of whimpering increased behind him.

He turned to see the other girl, her face and body cut up beyond recognition, screaming as loud as she could under her taped mouth. She tilted her chair and it fell once more to the ground with a heavy thud, just as the killer moved towards her.

Then there was a sound at the door, the sound of a key coming into the lock and a heavy grunting sound outside. He dropped the knife in an instant and stepped quickly through to the back of the house as the front door opened.

As he opened the back door and slinked off into the night he heard the most pained howl that had ever reached his ears, the loud roar of a man that echoed around the neighborhood.

But all it did, as he casually walked away down the street, was bring a smile to his face. A cold, heartless smile.

Chapter 12

Jack had only just managed to settle into a troubled sleep when his phone began blazing on his bedside table.

His eyes didn't take time to open and wake. They were open in a shot as his hand reached quickly for the cellphone and thrust it to his ear.

“Jack Slade,” he said, his voice already alert.

“Jack, it's Carla. You need to get down to Plainview immediately. Station Road, you'll see the cars.”

Jack didn't need to ask what was going on, he was already up and stepping into his pants, but Carla told him anyway.

“There's been another murder, two girls.”

“Two? A double murder?” asked Jack quickly, his phone now on speaker as he pulled on a shirt.

“No Jack, not yet anyway. One's still alive.”

With those words Jack's movements quickened and he shot off out of his apartment and into his unmarked car. It was late, past 3 in the morning now, and the streets were almost empty, so there was no need for his siren.

Plainview was one of the better off neighborhoods in town, over in the south western corner and near the main road towards the more populous area of the state. But it was quiet there, the houses larger and with more land. Jack only had to hope that, this time, they could get something on this guy.

It took him about ten minutes to reach the house, down towards the end of Station Road. There were already several police cars there, as well as a large pick-up truck parked outside. There was an ambulance, too, the back of it open as a person was being placed into it on a stretcher. A man walked by it's side, tears rolling down his cheeks as he stared down at the girl. He looked to be middle aged. It must have been his daughter.

Jack was quickly out of his car and storming in towards the house. The CSI team weren't there yet, so the place had been cordoned off by the Sheriff's office. Jack flashed his badge and passed straight through, seeing Carla lingering in near the doorway.

She turned as she heard Jack enter: “Jack..”

“When are the CSI team getting here?” Jack asked quickly.

“Soon. They should be here any minute.”

“Right,” Jack said, walking past her and straight into view of the sight ahead of them. There was a girl, tied up to a chair, her eyes and hair cut as before, blood pooling at her feet. Her head hung down, lifeless, blood still trickling slowly from her eyes. Opposite was another chair, blooded tape cut around the legs and arms. It must have been where the other girl was sat, opposite the dead girl ahead of her.

“The other girl...she's alive?” asked Jack, turning again to Carla.

Carla nodded, a look of disgust in her eyes. “Just, but she may not last Jack.”

“And she's the same? Eyes, hair?”

“Worse,” said Carla. “Her face was mutilated, her body too. She'd been cut in a hundred places, nothing deep, no vital wounds. She's low on blood, and her eyes are...gone.”