We serial killers are your sons, we are your husbands, we are everywhere. And there will be more of your children dead tomorrow.
- Ted Bundy
I sit, as I have dozens of times before, on a roadside and wait. Different highway, same shit. I needed to do it again already. My needs are probably not like yours. They're more direct; I answer the void, whenever it calls, whereas most of you either choose to ignore it or have no connection at all—how boring. I can't imagine not being so free, completely myself.
The wind's whipping so hard tonight, the snow is beginning to sting my face as it hits. I can still make out the little convenience store across the lanes of non-existent traffic, so far so good, but I won't last long out here. I need my ride.
Believe me, this waiting around in freezing conditions isn't for shits and giggles. I have to wait for nights such as this one. It makes people more sympathetic, makes them defenseless, unguarded. It makes them fucking idiots. I also have to wait for the right ride.
Most truckers I've encountered are perverts and they don’t care who they fuck, as long as they’re fucking. They certainly are not as easy to deal with, but I'll still do them. Usually that's all there is to choose from on a night like this. Couples and groups of 3 or more, I've learned to avoid entirely. And obviously no police, though that would be a rush.
Personally, I prefer women. The young and alone kind, traveling on a unfamiliar highway, totally unawares or perhaps uncaring of any danger. My favorites are women traveling alone with children, since the little ones can be used as leverage. You'd think those would be the people who are most suspicious, careful. But they aren't. I find that they have the worst judgment of all. They're the easiest pickings. Like I said, fucking idiots, right?
In fact, the last ones I did were a mother and her two snot-nosed daughters. I stepped out of the shadows of a gas-station, not unlike the one I'm staking-out tonight, as she was exiting the building to her car, brats in tow. One of the little shits saw me approaching and tugged her mother's purse strap, eyes wide, judging me (probably correctly, the kids are usually spot-on). Oh, she was going first. I instantly hated her pudgy, stupid face. The way her mouth stayed gaping open, in a constant state of awe. Mouth-breathing piglet was going to definitely get it first. Trust me, I did the world a favor.
As a rule, I like to save the children for last. The mother bleeds out, actually believing that her children are going to be safe from me. "Take me! Don't hurt them! Please please please", etc. They nearly always sing the same song. Trying to do the kids first doesn't turn out right. While I enjoy the struggle, the feral screams (they're almost like me in this state), the look of pure fear, the destruction of their very souls, the mother still has too much fight in her. Too risky. But that night, I made an exception.
I stopped in my tracks as she turned to me, her head cocked slightly, asking if I needed help. Her voice was high, but warm. That night, the inclement weather consisted of just a cold, misty drizzle, but I was shivering and soaked through by the time she finally showed up. I looked pathetic. It worked to my advantage. She let me approach her fully, listening to my well-rehearsed sob-story. I even whipped up some good tears that time, snot and all. I'm getting better at mimicking emotion. I convinced her not to go inside to call the police, telling her that I was afraid of what would happen if they came. I had family in the next town over, that's where I was headed, if she would take me herself. She actually agreed. They almost always do.
I'm close to giving up tonight. There are only a few dingy truck drivers in a span of 3 hours. This is pointless. I'm thinking to cut my losses when I see a car pull up to the first line of gas pumps. A woman gets out and heads to the backseat, she's struggling with something. A baby. I can see it. She has a little baby with her. Oh, I just love babies. Before I walk over, I make sure to pull my very own baby out of a small duffle and clutch her to my chest.
It’s starting to snow harder, and I can’t keep going like this, not with Alexander.
Thank god. There’s actually a gas station open on this stretch. I pull in to check my cell service. I’ll call mom and tell her we’ll be a day late or so. This snow is going to be the death of us, if I try to rush through it. I unbuckle Xander from his seat and walk inside to ask where the closest motel is. “About 40 more miles”, says the balding man behind the counter. He’s reading a smut magazine and barely looks up at me. Perfect, real nice area. I suppose it isn’t as bad as it could be.
I buy a coffee. As I’m checking out, I look over to see someone very near my vehicle, but on the other side, so I can’t tell what the hell they’re doing. They’re stealing it.
I don’t even grab my receipt from the cashier and nearly leave my coffee on the counter, trying to bound out of the door with Xander pressed to me. I don’t approach too quickly just in case they’re dangerous, but I want them away from my car. I momentarily look behind me, wishing I had asked the cashier to have a phone ready to call police, but he’s practically about to jerk off, still perusing his gross magazine. I’ll just pour my coffee on the son of a bitch.
I round the front side of my vehicle, when I see her.
She’s huddled down, sitting on the little lip of a curb, between my car and the gas pump, clutching something to her chest. My mood completely shifts from “combat-ready, with a baby on my hip and a coffee in my hand” to utter sorrow. She stands, startled and shivering, and I see what she has against her chest: a baby doll. There’s also a small traveling bag with her.
She’s just a little girl. She couldn't be more than 12 or 13, possibly not even that.
I crouch down to speak to her, shifting Xander to my other side to shield him from the wind, “What are you doing out here, honey?”
“I don’t know how to get home. I ran away, and I can’t make it back! It starting snowing so fast.... and I...."
Her voice breaks at the end and she starts crying a little. I almost can't contain my own tears, but figure it would make hers worse.
"Okay, well, we'll call your parents. They'll understand! They've got to be worried about you!"
"No, please no!!" She's fully bawling at this point.
"If they find out I left, they'll beat me!! Like last time. Someone called the police and they took me home. I got into so much trouble! I need to go back, without them noticing I left. Please don't tell on me!!" She points a thin, bone-white finger in the direction that I'm headed.
I make a quick decision, probably not the best, most responsible decision, but I can't leave her here with Pervert Mcgee behind the counter, and waiting on police would surely take a half an hour to get all the way out here to just pick up a runaway. The weather could get exponentially worse, waiting around on them. Besides, she couldn't have traveled far in this mess, so I agree to take her home. Why not? It's on the way.
Loading up Xander, she climbs in the backseat beside him and slides her seat-belt on. She seems so taken with him; she's already calmed down. Poor thing. I feel guilty bringing her back to her folks. They seem like awful people, if a sweet little thing like her walks in the driving snow to get away from them. I make a mental note to jot down their address, when we get to her home and call the local PD tomorrow, giving an anonymous tip about child neglect. Maybe they'll start taking her running away more seriously and investigate the shitty parents.
I climb into the driver's seat and start the car, stealing one more glimpse of precious cargo in the backseat. "Lilly", as she formally introduced herself, is still looking intently at Xander, leans over to him and whispers, "I just love babies." Cute kid.
I got my ride and another fucking idiot for the books. I almost thought this one would be too smart. I guess it helps that I've never looked my age.
I'm on Tumblr: http://darylsdckson.tumblr.com/stories
I watched Hard Candy and Gone Girl in the same night, back to back, if that helps you decipher my twisted thought process for creating this hideous woman-girl. I've always been in love with the whole "girls can kill too" concept, so here's my take on it. I hope you enjoyed, or not, and any criticism is welcome, as long as I can build from it, of course! Thank you for reading and reviewing! <3