BODY COUNT: Killers (a novel): Chapter 50. Killer’s Back

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It had been a long ride from North Carolina and a longer winter, but it was the beginning of his hunting season and he was nervous and excited at the same time. He made his way off the bus in Dallas, a town he was looking forward to exploring. After all, it wasn’t just about the hunting – he was on vacation!
    The number of people on the ground around the buses doubled as another bus began to unload. He fought his way inside the station only to be pushed against the wall. It was then that he saw her across the way, over the heads of the other passengers. He knew her face but couldn’t place it at first.
    And then he knew: it was a face from his wall of memories, a face he had seen nightly for weeks on TV and in newspapers, the face of the mother of the kid he had killed in Memphis. She was obviously not there by accident, for she seemed to be scanning the crowd for someone, and he thought he knew who that was.
    He lowered his head and tried to use the other passengers as cover. And then he saw the man pushing his way through the mass of people toward him. He had thought he might use the bathroom in the station, but now, if they were really looking for him, he’d be trapped in there. And then he was at the entrace to a hallway, and he spotted the exit door. He ran out into the drive and quickly removed his ballcap and lightweight windbreaker. He pushed them into his backpack before turning the corner onto the main street.
    And there was that woman again, looking right at him, but without recognition – they didn’t know what he looked like! They only knew what he would be wearing. Somehow, they had tracked him by his clothes, and maybe his backpack.
    He looked back the way he had come when he turned onto the main street and saw the man turn the corner. He quickly stepped into the main entrance to the bus station, which was now right in front of him. From the windows, he watched the two as they searched for him and then suddenly ran across the street. It was the bus they were running toward, the very bus he had planned to be aboard by that time of the day!
    His mind was racing. What should he do? His first thought was to get back on a bus and go home. But it was his hunting season…and his vacation. He couldn’t let these two people destroy his summer. He had endured the long winter only by frequently returning to the thought of his next vacation. He stepped out of the station and watched the DART bus roll down the street. He decided to catch the next one. After all, they had no idea what he looked like; he would just change his clothing and finish what he had come to Dallas to do.

He was looking out the bus’s window as it came to its first stop, and there she was! My God, he thought, can’t I get away from her?
    He dared not look at her but he could feel her eyes on him. He wanted to run, to hide. He had to get away from the sight of her. At the next stop, two men got off and he noticed she was interested in them for a few seconds. But as the bus pulled away from the stop, she turned her gaze in his direction, and that was all he could take. As soon as he saw the next stop, he pulled the cord. He acted as though he were going to exit at the front, and then abruptly turned on his heels and slipped out the back. The woman was surprised and the door closed before she realized what had happened. He ran to the end of the block and turned the corner. He was going to keep running, but he spied the two loose boards in the wall and decided to hide.
    In short order, he heard running feet and flattened himself against the inside of the wooden wall. Only a sliver of sky was visible above, the wall was so close to the building, and his eyes had to adjust to the dark shadows. He heard the boards move and could even smell her as well as see her outline from the light that passed behind her when she stepped in, a gun in her right hand. He thought about killing her. But he had never killed a woman, and he wasn’t an animal that killed just because he could – he had rules.
    He touched the knife to the base of her skull, which was exposed by her short hair. “Don’t turn around. I don’t want to kill you. But if I have to, I will.” He took her gun and pushed her toward a wooden pole that provided electrical current for the workers. From his backpack, he removed a roll of duct tape and wrapped her to the pole. He ripped off a piece of tape and sealed her mouth shut. “I’m sure your friend will find you within a couple hours, but by then I’ll be long gone. It’s too bad, but it looks like I’ll have to find a new hobby. It would detract from my enjoyment of the hunt, looking over my shoulder for you again.”
    Carefully, in the shadowy light, he stepped to the opening and checked the street. Seeing no one, he left. Trying not to attract attention, he hurried down the street toward a local bus stop at the other corner of the block. To his surprised good luck, a bus was stopping as he reached the corner and he jumped on and asked if the bus passed anyplace where he could catch a Greyhound.
    He was told that they would come to a connection, so he settled into a seat close to the front of the bus. He slid his hand into his backpack and grasped June’s gun. He was experiencing a new feeling, one he couldn’t remember having felt. He hadn’t thought of killing with a gun before. The knife took skill and required developing the art of positioning it accurately and thrusting it cleanly. But he could feel the power of the gun in his hand, and he knew he would have to try it out…if for no other reason than to get it back to its owner. A plan was starting to form….
    Three days later, he stepped off a local bus in Memphis, Tennessee. That night he shot three people at random and left the gun at the scene of the last killing. And then he caught the midnight Amtrack train to New Orleans.
    He took his time in New Orleans. He picked his spots and then his victims, killing each with the skill of the artist he had become.
    Finally, he caught the East Coast train going all the way to New York, although he would be getting off long before that. He would make one more stop before catching a local bus back home, to Cary, North Carolina.

Copyright © 2019, 2020 by Ed Rogers