Crossroads

By Justin Fulkerson

The Oxford Dictionary defines crossroads as "A point at which a crucial decision must be made that will have far-reaching consequences."
Collected here for the first time, Justin Fulkerson offers up 6 chilling tales ranging from serial killers to alien conspiracies.
Are strangers thrown together by fate or coincidence? Does destiny or fate really exist? Are we really in control of the decisions we make?
You be the judge as you dive into these tales of paranoia and the dark side of human nature.
Collected for the first time, each of these 6 tales delves into fears, torment, paranoia and destiny.
This collection includes these 6 tales for your enjoyment:
Unfinished Business
One more Cup
Knackelflerg
Paranormal Alien Crap
Koyaanisqatsi (novella)
Gates of She'ol (novella)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Justin Fulkerson
• Release date: Nov 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393390534

Justin Fulkerson

Author of An Hour for Magic, Justin Fulkerson’s literary tastes turned from science fiction (Isaac Asimov) to horror (Stephen king, of course) at the innocent age of twelve years old. His outlook on life was forever changed by the experience and his mind suffered the consequences. The creatures and scenarios running through his imagination forced him to begin his first novels while still in high school.  Twenty years later, An Hour for Magic arrived, consuming his every thought until the first 500 pages were transferred to paper. The next two in the series, Hollow be thy Name and An Hour for Maggie completed the tale. Finally, Hallowed Ground took Justin's mind into the realm of Zombie fiction. With several more novels in the works, Justin hopes that the world can survive long enough to enjoy the fruits of his imagination.

Book preview

Introduction

The Oxford Dictionary defines crossroads as A point at which a crucial decision must be made that will have far-reaching consequences.

In the mid-90s I became hooked on The Doors. When I found out that Jim Morrison had some books of poetry out there, I eventually found them and ate up every twisted apocalyptic verse.  From that point forward Morrison has been a major influence in my writing career.  I took many of my titles from his works, including (but not limited to): Text of the Unforgiven, Translations of the Divine, and An Hour for Magic. I would also structure scenes around verses of his poetry.  His inspiration can be found throughout my work. His gritty interpretation of the world around us opened my eyes to the power of imagery. 

For those familiar with my work, you will recognize my use of crossroads frequently. Years ago, around 2007 when I was working on my first novel, a few verses of Jim Morrison poetry from Wilderness stuck with me.

The Crossroads

A place where ghosts

Reside to whisper into

The ears of travelers &

Interest them in their fate.

And this one caught my eye and the two just seemed to fit together.

I am the guide to the labyrinth

Come & see me

In the green hotel

Rm. 32

I will be there after 9:30 p.m.

These two verses along with several others inspired my creation of The Crossroads Motel that makes appearances in Text of the Unforgiven, Translations of the Divine, Hollow be Thy Name: An Hour for Magic II.  The Crossroads also appears in Freckles the Clown as the name of a local bar.

It was only fitting to choose the name Crossroads for this collection of dark tales.

Our lives consist of numerous crossroads. Every decision we make leads to a new one needing to be made. The cycle continues over and over. Did we make the right one?  Did we take the right turn? What ifs abound as we ponder what would have happened if we had made this decision instead of that. Many of us will never know the truth.

Are strangers thrown together by fate or coincidence? Does destiny or fate really exist? Are we really in control of the decisions we make?

You be the judge as you dive into these tales of paranoia and the dark side of human nature. Collected for the first time, each of these 6 tales delves into fears, torment, paranoia and destiny.

Unfinished Business follows 82 year old Eugene as he hunts for victim number 50. Finding a young woman, Laura, traveling on her own he is reminded of the one that got away. Will he succeed in taking her life or does she have other plans for him?

One More Cup introduces us to Terry, whom loves his coffee. His normal routine turns into nightmare fuel when a stranger accuses Terry of following him. From that moment on, Terry struggles to defend himself from the insanity around him.

Knackelflerg revolves around 9 year-old Billie. Moving to a new town has Billie worried she will never make new friends. Then she meets Knackelflerg and realizes that she is the only one in their hotel that can see him. What starts as an innocent relationship turns into a dangerous game.

Paranormal Alien Crap opens the Pandora’s box of Alien Conspiracy when PI Dylan Lane investigates a disappearance in a small New Mexico town.  

KOYAANISQATSI In October 1962, the world ends.  Lee Oswald, Jim Morrison and Charles Manson, while fulfilling an ancient Hopi Indian prophesy, team up to defeat an ominous figure called Phoenix that has risen from the ashes claiming to be a savior. Phoenix is actually a time/reality travelling demon bent on destroying the human race and returning control of our planet to the alien life forms that brought us here in the beginning of time.

Gates of She’ol Eaten up with cancer and buried in the throes of dementia, Demetrio is the last survivor of a group of men who imprisoned a monster that was feeding upon numerous children years ago. Now on the verge of death, he struggles to warn his granddaughter Amy of the impending doom headed her way when the Beast is set to be released. Four strangers are brought together by chance to capture the Beast once again before it resumes its murderous rampage.

As you can see, these stories span numerous genres, but I promise each one will keep you turning the pages to find out what happens.

All you have to do is find a comfortable spot to curl up with these stories and enjoy. Thank you for taking this journey.

Justin Fulkerson

November 17, 2019

For links to more tales of horror and suspense, visit Justinfulkersonauthor.com or follow his author page on Facebook at facebook.com/JustinFulkersonAuthor

Chapter 1 

Eugene and Laura

1

Eugene hadn’t killed anyone in a while and he kind of missed it.

He was sweating like crazy, walking on the side of the two-lane highway, and began to ponder if anyone would ever stop to pick up a sweaty old man on a day like this. From their perspective he would just look like a sweat-drenched old man. They would probably smell him by sight, assuming he stank to high heaven. But, he didn’t, he had good hygiene.

He began to have a pain in his chest.

A horrible idea occurred to him.  How many killers like him had died without ever taking credit for the deaths they had caused? Whether their own death had come by a horrible accident, suicide, or natural causes, the thought was tragic. To have carried out such acts without anyone ever knowing the truth of their deeds was unfathomable. He couldn’t imagine leaving his life without anyone ever knowing what he had done.  It was only fair to take credit where credit was due.

Of course, the families had to be considered.  They always had their questions of why. Why did they have to die? Why did it have to be them? Why are there such evils in the world? The answer was natural selection. People die every day. 

Some people are just chosen to dispatch others from the planet. By releasing their energy, others were allowed to be born.  It was a never-ending circle.  Like that kids movie toting on about a circle of life. The feelings of loss and sadness from family members meant nothing. The souls of those lost meant nothing. It was just part of existence.

Those that have been called, like Eugene, know how hard it is to resist the urge. It becomes second nature to most. Psychologists try to blame it on a rush or a high that is reached when one person has control over the fate of another, holding another’s life in one’s hands. Bullshit. This had nothing to do with chemical reactions within one’s brain or feelings of superiority. It is much more than that. 

These thoughts ran through his head as his heart fluttered again. He felt out of breath and began to have tunnel-vision. He pulled himself together and focused upon the fact that he couldn’t die yet.  He couldn’t leave so many unanswered questions in his wake. He hated having unfinished business.

Breath after breath, the world came back into focus.  But, his head was gripped in a pounding headache that threatened to push his eyeballs from their sockets.

The heat was getting to him.  He had parked his car down a deserted dirt road a few miles back.  He was unfamiliar with Texas and the heat was more than he had anticipated. He hated to admit that it might have just been his age catching up to him.

He made a conscious decision to begin carrying his notebooks with him wherever he went from now on.  That was too close of a call to ignore. What if he had passed out and baked in the sun out here in the middle of nowhere?  What then?  Who would have connected the dots?

Unfinished business.

He took his handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead.  He stopped by the side of the road and waited.  He wasn’t in a hurry.

2

Laura was excited to finally be out on her own, three years of community college behind her and several boyfriends that had only been interested in spending most of their time there also. Now, leaving the nest for good was the most amazing feeling she had ever experienced. Having the open road spread out before her, she now knew what her boyfriends had felt like with her spread before them, new territory to be explored.

Her new job in Portales, New Mexico was awaiting her next week.  That meant she only had four days to settle into her apartment and explore the city.

She had been on the road for six hours already and felt freedom for the first time.  The last two hours she had been on the open road, stopping in the last little town to grab a few snacks. She figured that the last sign she passed meant there were no more towns for the next seventy-five miles or so.  She wasn’t worried though.  She had topped off the tank and had a full gas can in the trunk, just in case.

Something caught her eye in the distance.  She instinctively reached out and turned down the radio as if the lack of noise would improve her vision.

There was a shape miles down the road. The mirage of heat upon the blacktop made the figure disappear and reappear several times.  Beneath the blistering sun, someone was walking along the side of the highway.

Still several miles in the distance, she could see the man’s head was down, attempting to avoid the glaring rays of the sun.

Her mother didn’t raise a fool, though. She knew better than to pick up a hitchhiker.  She planned on blowing by the man at about eighty and putting his unfortunate situation out of her mind.

But, as she got closer, she realized that he was just an old man.

How could an old man hurt me?  He’s harmless.

Tell that to your Mom. Another voice spoke up in her head. She pushed it away.  Nothing was going to ruin her good mood today.

As her view improved, she noticed how much he resembled her grandfather and this made so many warm memories surface in her mind that her fears vanished instantly.

He’s probably got grandkids waiting on him somewhere missing their grandpa. Wouldn’t you hate yourself if you passed him by and then heard about an old man dying by the side of the road from heat stroke?

She passed him and began to slow down. In the rearview mirror she saw the hopeful look light up his kind face. He wiped sweat from his brow and began to walk toward her car. He had his short sleeve plaid shirt unbuttoned.  The Texas wind blew it out behind him, exposing his white t-shirt tucked into his khaki pants.

Laura made sure the doors were locked and cracked the passenger side window slightly to judge the old man’s intentions. He approached the passenger side and stopped, supporting himself on the roof of the car.  He was out of breath and flushed.

You okay? she asked across the seat.

I guess so. He gasped, wiping his head again. Could you give me a ride?

Even though there was a kind glint in his eye, she didn’t want to let her guard down so quickly.

I really shouldn’t.  What are you doing way out here?  Where’s your car?

He looked back up the road in the direction she was travelling.

I ran out of gas a few miles up the road.  Been walking out here over an hour. He looked like he was about to pass out.

Laura looked at him and then down the road again.  With the heat radiating off the road it was impossible to tell if there was a car up there.

I’ve got a full gas can in the trunk. Laura said. You can have it.  I‘ll buy another one at the next stop.

Wow. I sure do appreciate it. It’s just a few miles up the road, I think. You can just drop me off.

I didn’t say I would give you a ride.  You can have the gas can.

She avoided his eye as she pulled the lever by her leg that disengaged the trunk latch.  She heard it pop open.

But . . . he was still trying to catch his breath. I don’t know how much longer I can last out in this heat.

The trunk’s open. Laura said.  She saw the old man step back and make his way slowly to the back of the car.  She rolled up the window and watched him in the mirror.  He stopped after closing the trunk and hacked up phlegm.  He wavered for a moment and placed his hand upon the car for balance.  He approached the passenger side again and looked into the closed window.

Thank you, young lady. He said with immense sadness washing over his face as he walked away.

Laura took a deep breath.

You’ve done your good deed for the day.  Don’t go overboard for this stranger. He’s made it this far, he’ll be okay without your help. 

She passed him as she drove away.  She watched him in the rearview mirror until he was too far away to see. 

Then, she realized something.  After driving for several minutes she realized that she saw no car in sight.  How long was he going to have to walk before he made it back to his car?

You should be ashamed of yourself. The voice of her grandmother spoke up. Leaving such a nice old man out in the middle of nowhere.

She turned up the radio and tried to put him far behind her.

3

Eugene was tempted to toss the gas can away.  But, he knew human nature and knew that in order to maintain the facade he had created, he would have to keep the can.

She’s not coming back. She’s a smart one. One voice in his head spoke up.

Nope, you’re wrong. He said out-loud to himself. She’ll be back.

He knew that even the smart ones had feelings. 

He just wished that the way he was feeling had just been part of the act, but it wasn’t.  Another sharp pain, this time in his right arm, stopped him in his tracks.  He slouched a bit; placing the gas can on the pavement.  He put both his hands upon his knees and took a few more deep breaths until the pain subsided.

This was getting too close for comfort.

He picked up he can and straightened up.  He raised his free hand to his brow and looked ahead after the young woman’s car. The highway was playing tricks on him as the heat radiated in waves.  Cicadas filled the air with their vibrating song, sounding too much like a rattlesnake for his comfort.

He knew she would be back.

Then he heard another car coming over his shoulder.

Shit.

He saw the yellow sports car slowing down to pull up beside him.  He pulled over in front of Eugene and got out of his car.

You need a ride, buddy? It’s too damn hot to be walking around out here. The middle-aged man stood in his shorts and flip-flops looking at him. Hop in and I’ll take you to your car.  You can throw the gas can in the back.

No, thank you. Eugene said as nicely as he could.

The man didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. He frowned and stood in shock beside his car.

What?

I said no thank you. Eugene said again, looking over the man at the open highway ahead. He knew if she came back and saw this guy offering him a ride that everything would be ruined. His heat strained mind imagined her turning around right now and heading back his way and this flunky was going to ruin it.

No, really. Hop in. the man said. You’ll get back on the road out of this heat faster.

Would you just get the fuck out of here? Eugene shouted, causing another lightning bolt of pain to cross his chest. Mind your own business.

The man’s shock would have been hilarious under any other situation. But, Eugene wanted him out of his way.  The man had no idea who he was fucking with and Eugene didn’t want to show him.  He had his sights set on the young woman.  She was the one for him.

What the fuck is your problem? the man was getting angry. He began to walk toward Eugene. I’m offering you a ride.  Get in the car and let’s get this show on the road.

The man reached out to take Eugene by the arm like he was a little kid or something. He actually thought he was going to force Eugene into his car.  Eugene jabbed him in the gut.  His eyes widened more as the air was forced from his lungs. He was too surprised to fight back.

I told you to mind your own business.  Now, get back in your car and get as far away from me as possible. Eugene snarled into the shocked man’s face.  He shoved the man back toward his car.  The man caught his bearings and jumped back into his car, looking back in fear and anger.

Fuck you, old man! he screamed out his window before spinning out on the shoulder of the highway before tearing away from the scene.  The barrage of gravel and rock didn’t bother Eugene a bit.  He was more concerned with the things going on in his chest.  He clenched his fist and pounded upon his chest a few times.

The interloper was racing away and would be of no consequence in time.  Yeah, he would probably tell the tale about the crazy old guy on the highway that had punched him.  But, by that time, Eugene would be long gone. 

You should have brought a bottle of water or something, you idiot. He cursed himself. 

He could get mad at himself all he wanted.  But, how could he have known this was going to take so long.  It had been a cool morning when he had started this expedition. He knew he would be dealing with a nasty sunburn on top of everything else.

Then, he saw something in the distance. At first he stood completely still, making sure that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. 

He saw a car coming back down the other side of the highway. 

It was her, Number 50. There had been forty-nine before her.

Told you, you arrogant asshole. He told his inner voice.

Well, you’re not out of the woods yet.  Let’s see if you can even pull this off in your shape.

Eugene couldn’t argue. He knew something was deathly wrong with him.

4

So many things were on Laura’s mind that she chose to ignore all the superstitious notions dancing around in her brain. She chose to take her grandmother’s advice, the woman who had beaten her several times as a child.

She pulled over and did a U-Turn. About fifteen minutes had passed since she drove away and she still hadn’t come across the man’s car. She was more concerned than ever for his safety.

She headed back in his direction.  After a few minutes, another car sped past her.  A yellow sports car. The man driving looked pissed off.

Who pissed in your Post Toasties? Laura thought, smiling to herself. 

She would pick up the old man, deliver him to his car and be back on the road in less than an hour.  Why should she be in a hurry with her whole life ahead of her? The old man only had a few years left and the least she could do as the next generation would be to assist him in his time of need.  This made her heart feel ten times better.  She was proud of herself for making such an adult decision on her own.

Until something bad happens. This was her mother’s voice, always there to put a damper on things.

Far ahead of her, the shape of the old man appeared again.

5

You came back, thank God. Eugene said. I was afraid I’d be toast soon.

Eugene wiped sweat from his brow again. He felt sick to his stomach.  He watched his hand tremble as he placed his handkerchief back in his pocket.

I didn’t see your car anywhere ahead and got worried. How long have you been walking?

Quite a while.

Get in. the young girl said. Toss the gas can back in the trunk so it doesn’t smell up the car.

Eugene walked around to the trunk and waited for it to pop open.  It did and he placed the can back inside. He took a deep breath and focused upon what he must do.

Opening the door, he felt a familiar feeling come over him.  This was what he was made for.  The car smelled faintly of strawberries.  He sat beside the girl and buckled his seatbelt.

Why did you come back? he asked.  The wind coming from the air conditioner was heavenly. He could already feel his strength coming back.

I started to feel guilty.  If something happened to you way out here, there would be nobody to help you. She said, driving.  He watched her lips move as she spoke.  There was a bright light in her eyes. He could smell the lotion she had applied to herself this morning.  Her smooth skin reflected the lack of work she had done in her life.

I would have been fine. Eugene said. Then he lied. I used to pick cotton when it was a lot hotter than this.

Really?

Yep? But, I was only eight years old back then.

This brought a giggle from her that made the hairs on his arm stand up in anticipation. He could tell from that little titter just how her screams would sound. 

You have any water? Eugene asked. 

The girl smiled and reached behind him. Eugene looked back and saw the cooler propped on the back seat. The girl pulled an iced bottle of water from within. She handed it to Eugene.

My name’s Henry, by the way. He said, cracking open the bottle and taking a long drink.  He regretted it almost instantly as a brain freeze washed over him, clouding his vision. 

I’m Laura, she said, extending her hand.  Eugene took it eagerly. Sure enough, her hands were soft as silk.

You could have tossed me a couple of these and I would have been good for a few hours.

I thought about that as soon as I drove away. I felt guilty so I came back.  Hope you’re not mad. She said with a hint of embarrassment.

You did the right thing, missy. He said, judging her reaction to the words. I never picked up a hitchhiker my entire life and advised my kids to do the same. You always think you are doing the right thing until it’s you on the side of the road waiting for help.

Right. She giggled.

The way things are with the world, no one wants to trust anyone anymore. Can’t say that I blame them.

She smiled again and seemed a bit uncomfortable. He knew he had said too much and tried to relax a bit.

So, where’s your car? she asked as she watched the road ahead. Where were you headed?

I’m going to see my new grandbaby! Eugene lied again. Born just last week!

Wow! Laura said.

Eugene fished his wallet out of his pocket, careful not to give her a glimpse inside. He removed a photograph from it and held it up for her to see. He remembered the scene he had removed this particular photo from and it had not been a pretty one, but luckily this picture didn’t have any blood on it. It was a photo of a smiling baby girl. It looked relatively new.  He had no idea who it was.  He had just kept it for this sort of occasion, along with numerous pictures that he kept for his personal recollections.  He had dozens in his wallet. He held up the picture, just far enough away that she wouldn’t reach for it.

Aww! she said with endearment. What a cute baby?

My fourth grandbaby.  But she’s the first girl, Elizabeth.

Pretty name for a pretty girl.

Thank you, Laura.

So, where did you say your car was?

I didn’t, sorry. He put away the picture and looked ahead. There’s a dirt road up ahead on the left. I was taking a shortcut.

He saw her search the road ahead for the turn he spoke of.  She pushed her hair back behind one ear and he saw something else, something that made his heart jump once again.

Just like Charlotte. The voice in his head spoke up, startling him. Told you so.  You’re not gonna be able to do it.

On the side of her neck, below her ear, Laura (Charlotte) had a red rose tattoo.

Eugene felt the anticipation of his own failure overwhelming the potential of this moment.

Shut up. He thought to himself. She’s nothing like Charlotte.

That one up there? Laura asked, pointing across the road and to the left. The dirt road?

Yep. Eugene said, keeping his voice in check as he struggled to subdue the negative images from the past. I usually cut through there on my way to Muleshoe.

Laura seemed to believe him. His ability to thread lies together had become second nature over the years. Along with the ability to inflict pain.  His own feelings of remorse or pity had died long ago, with Charlotte.

Stop it! He screamed at himself, keeping the unassuming smile fixed upon his face. Stop talking about her.

But, it was something he would never forget. An event that stained the very fabric of his existence, he would never be able to take it back.

As the car lurched onto the dirt road, Eugene felt the familiar wave of detachment wash over him. He felt the weight of the blade in his pocket and knew that it would spill blood soon. He could smell it already.

6

Eugene smelled like dirt and heat. The smell reminded her of her own grandfather after he had spent hours in the backyard chopping firewood. Her heart felt good, rewarding her for returning and carrying out a good deed.

Some good deeds are better let undone. Her mother spoke up again. Don’t get too comfortable.

She looked in the rearview mirror and saw the cloud of dirt they were leaving behind as they cruised down the dirt road.

She saw the car ahead, parked off the side of the road.

All the times I’ve made this trip, you’d think I would know better. Eugene said beside her. Guess I was in a hurry to get there and forgot to fill up.

It happens. Laura said. Your mind gets so tied up in the moment that you forget about the future.

Words of wisdom from a young woman named Laura. Eugene giggled from beside her. Even though the laugh was innocent, it sent chills down her arms.

The car bounced over ruts and potholes in the dirt. She looked down at her own gas tank and saw that she still had plenty.  It would suck to give him all her gas and get stuck out here in the middle of nowhere.

She instinctively reached for her cell phone. She flipped it open and saw that there was no signal at all out here. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eugene watching her.

I never have owned one of those things. Eugene said, catching her glance. My son keeps telling me I need to have one, especially when I’m out here on the road. Guess he was right.

Not much good out here. Laura said, tossing it back into the tray on the console. No signal at all.

Not even 9-1-1??

Nope, just a big fat X.

What’s the use then? Eugene said and sat back, staring out the window. 

Even though she knew it was dangerous, Laura had always been intrigued by strangers. Even as a little girl it had gotten her into trouble. Standing in the supermarket talking to random people as they shopped had earned her a few spankings. As she got older, her habit had also found several boyfriends for her. Then, they were the ones spanking her. 

It seemed to her that time was a circle and things kept happening over and over for a reason. That was until her mother had died, then everything had changed.  Her eyes had been opened to the cruelty of the world around her.  Strangers were not to be trusted.

But, she wasn’t stupid.  She usually kept her interactions with strangers limited to public places.  It was safe there. You were able to walk away without the fear of an attack if there were people around.  Even if some of those interactions led eventually from public regions to a bedroom or two, she wasn’t stupid. She had ended conversations with psychos before, the ones with no glint in their eyes, no soul. She had even put a few in their place.

Eugene was unlike anyone she had interacted with since she was very little. Her grandfather, Edward, was the only person she could compare him to.  She guessed it was just because he had been old also. That was the only real similarity. Age sometimes gives the mind an illusion of wisdom and safety.

As she pulled up and parked behind his abandoned car, she sensed Eugene tensing up and saw him sit up straight in his seat as he stared out the windshield.

Until something bad happens. Her mother reminded her again.

7

This is it, Eugene. The moment of truth. Go ahead, try. You can’t do it. This time the voice was his mother’s. Her voice often came to him when something terrible had to be done. Her attitude made his blood boil and fueled his anger long enough to finish what he started.

I used to think that you didn’t have the balls to do it.  But, now I know you haven’t got the heart. Your body is losing its battle.  You can’t deny what is happening.

Eugene sat up and Laura parked the car. A sharp pain tore through his chest once again. He tried to keep the pain from working its way into his face.

Another Charlotte. Just like her.

Shut up. Eugene grumbled. As soon as the words left his mouth, he saw Laura look at him. The confusion in her eyes would soon be replaced by fear if he didn’t extinguish the fire. Sorry. The old ticker is yelling at me, doesn’t like me to ignore him.

Are you okay?

Her confusion turned to concern in a split second. He made a mental note to feign a medical condition next time.

If there is a next time.

Shut up!

He loved how the eyes conveyed so many emotions so simply. The way they could change from confusion to fear to terror always excited him.

I just need to get her out of this car. His own thoughts now, the voice of pessimism quiet for a moment.

I think I’m okay. He placed his hand over his heart for a few seconds.  The pain subsided slightly. If you can just help me to my car, you can be on your way.

Are you sure? Maybe you need to go to the hospital, you’re really pale.

Get her out of the car, He thought again.

I’ll be fine. Eugene faked a smile.  He felt the sweat breaking out on his forehead.  A cold sweat gripped him. Can you get that gas can for me?

Laura popped the trunk and hopped out.  The rush of hot air from outside the car sent chills through him.  The cold sweat intensified.

Well?  You got her out of the car. Now what?  Are you gonna move or not?

He adjusted the switch-blade in his pocket and opened his door.

8

Laura heard Eugene’s door open. 

She looked at her watch and saw that she was at least an hour behind the schedule she had given herself for this trip.  But, no good deed went unrewarded, right? She believed in paying it forward so that good things would continue coming her way in the future.

She knew as soon as she got settled in, she would meet a nice guy and perhaps the next phase of her life would start.  But, she was nervous as hell about all of it.

Eugene was standing by his open door with one hand over his chest. She saw he was shaking.

Oh God. He’s gonna have a heart attack right here.  Shit.

The beads of sweat stood out on his face.  She saw the far-away look in his eyes as he turned to her, reaching into his pocket.

No, you don’t have to pay me for the gas, Eugene. She said, thinking he was reaching for money. Are you sure you’re okay?

Then, her prediction came true.  Eugene’s face went slack and his eyes rolled up into his skull. A string of drool slide from his mouth and rolled down his shirt. His knees gave out next and he fell to the dirt.

Laura reacted out of instinct and ran to his aid.

9

This is it, old man.

As soon as he stood up, the world ran away from him. 

He struggled to calm himself and pull each hot breath into his lungs.  The glaring sun turned gray and everything around him seemed a million miles away. He felt the hot roof of the car beneath his hand as he tried to steady himself.  He heard Charlotte talking to him as she walked toward him.

Not Charlotte! Not Charlotte! Not Charlotte! He demanded as her image grew further and further away, spots overtaking his vision.

I told you. I knew you couldn’t do it. Just like Charlotte.

Stop it!

Charlotte.

Please.

But as he drifted away, Charlotte came back to him.

Chapter 2

Charlotte

1

He thought twenty-four was going to be the last. 

It had been for quite some time.  He knew exactly how many days, months, years it had been, but he wouldn’t admit it, even to himself.  He pretended to forget so that he could move on with his life and marriage; pretended that dark part of his life was over, that he didn’t miss every little detail of every one of them.  But most of life came down to pretending, didn’t it?

The first time he saw her, the pretending became non-stop, forced into reality by his mind. The turtleneck she wore, the plaid skirt and brown boots meant nothing to him. The brown hair fanning out over her shoulders.  The book she carried in her crossed arms. None of it mattered.

It was the smile. 

The smile that lit up every room she had ever entered in her entire life.

It had to be wiped off of her smug little face.

Twenty-five was in her future, in his future. Some things couldn’t be changed.

The more he pretended to ignore her, the more he saw her around town.

While eating lunch at Rosa’s Café, he would see her laughing and talking with friends.

She never saw him.  But he saw her.

At the library he would see her studying, oblivious of everyone around her.

He pretended to go on with his life as the instances increased.  More and more he happened to end up within gazing distance and each time he pretended to marvel at the coincidence and then deny to himself that he even acknowledged it, telling himself that his mind was not wandering again into that dark area that had been hidden for so long. He even denied to himself that it had ever existed. 

He saw her. But she never saw him.

As she walked across the dark parking lot to her car he sat in his own car waiting on her.  Her schedule became second nature to him. His own schedule began to conform to hers, placing them in perfect cycle with one another. 

He stepped from his car and strode toward her.

She saw him.  He saw her.

She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders and a nervous smile crossed her lips.  Eugene passed her and saw the rose tattoo on her neck. 

She let her guard down just enough at the thought that he was just passing her by.  He let his knife and words do the rest. Once he had her in his car, she really saw him.

2

An urgent business trip came up and Eugene had to leave town for a few days.  There were no questions asked. These trips had been habit several years ago so there was no need to question. A kiss before leaving sealed the illusion of marital bliss.

3

The abandoned shack where he kept Charlotte was secluded from any passing traffic.  He parked about half an hours walk away just to make sure that no one would see his car in the vicinity of the house. This would also give no warning of his arrival and alleviate any hope of a quick escape.

He had learned from his mistakes.  Having your scalp split open by a crazy person swinging a lead pipe fueled by an adrenaline rush made you think twice about every object in the environment, every possible weapon.

He had precautions now.  Close calls taught you to avoid risk.

She waited exactly where he had left her, secured to the floor, eyes wide and watery.  The tape over her mouth hid the once smug smile beneath.

Welcome home, Daddy.

She saw the blade and knew it was time to play.

4

He left her again. 

Sometimes it was possible to get too much of a good thing.  He needed alone time to think and get some fresh air.  He spent hours driving, lost in thought until he had totally lost track of time.  Sometimes he felt as if he had slipped into an alternate reality and everything in his life had been a daydream, all his memories just figments of his wild imagination.

Then, he would end up back at the shack and see her bolted to the floor and the sad reality would come back to him, the deed that he would soon have to commit in order to return to his normal life, at least for a while longer.

But, something happened that his mind took several moments to comprehend.  On the third day, she was gone.  He stood in the doorway, traumatized. The hook bolt on the floor was still there.  The lengths of rope were still there.  But, she was gone. 

He kept waiting for some feeble attack to emerge from the other room or from the side of the shack.  But, nothing came. 

How long had she been gone?

How long until she came back with the authorities?

A can of lighter fluid he kept around for special occasions helped him set the shack ablaze in a matter of minutes. He knew the smoke would draw attention to the area just as soon as she would.

He ran from the scene, heading in the complete opposite direction from which he had come.  Three hours later, doubling back around, he saw the flashing lights and heard the sirens descending upon the scene.  He knew they would find nothing.

But what about Charlotte?

She knew his face, knew his body.

Eugene kept running.

5

Returning from his business trip, the news of Eugene’s promotion was welcomed with open arms and love-making. Within days, they were moving halfway across the country to a new life.  He pretended once again that there would never be a number 25.

6

He heard about the manhunt going on back home.  He saw the police sketches on the news. They were searching for some perverted psycho killer.  They had no idea how many victims there had been or how many might yet be discovered.  Was this just some random act of violence?  No one seemed to know. 

He wanted it left that way.

Charlotte remained the one that got away.  25 came and went. But each time, she tried to stop him from finishing what he had set his mind to.

7

Years passed. 

He took lives.

Charlotte’s smugness caused him to take his spouse’s life also.

But curiosity got the best of him. She was always in the back of his mind, unfinished business.

He spent time at the library, finding her in a far-away database, a victim of unspeakable crimes against humanity. Descriptions of her assailant drew a horrific picture.

He felt obsession taking him over. Soon enough he ran out of information. She seemed to have vanished just as he had.

Unfinished business.

8

There’s an old saying that criminals always return to the scene of the crime and Eugene did just that.

It took him a while to find it, but it was still there, the burnt out remains of the shack, the eye-bolt still protruding from the concrete floor.

Every moment that they had shared flooded his mind, over and over. There was no end to their story.  It was left suspended in his