by Colin Palmer
Warning: Graphic Content, not suitable for the easily offended
1 — Virgin Killer
The bullet entered from just behind her left ear. I timed it so I fired just as she was exiting the car and most of the resultant mess sprayed outside the vehicle. I didn't like blood. And the bloody gore from shooting somebody at point blank range was about as bad as it got, especially in the head at point blank range. Poor bitch. She knew she was gonna die; I hadn't made a secret of it but I wasn't that callous that I'd taunted her either. Shit, don't get me wrong. It wasn't as if I did this sort of stuff on a daily basis you know, knocking off innocent people, women. But she'd served her purpose and I had never lied to her about what that was.Carol her name was, had been, still was I guess. But it was now Carol whoever, deceased. Dumb bitch.
How many times do you have to tell women, don't pick up hitchhikers, never give a lift to a stranger, never accept a drink off somebody you don't know in a bar, don't walk alone anywhere after dark, all that sort of stuff? How many times do you have to tell the dumb daughters of bitches?
Yeah, I was so experienced at this shooting game too, let me tell you. Like, I had shot so many people before I got to Carol, a regular serial murderer I was. Not! Until Carol, I had been a virgin. Oh God no! I didn't do anything to her like that while she was alive or dead! What the fuck sort of sicko do you think I am? I mean a virgin shooter I was; oh fuck; that isn't right either, I didn't go around seeking out and shooting virgins. What I mean is that I'd never shot anybody before lifting that 9 mm Gloch and pumping that single round into Carols' brain, and I'm neither proud nor gloating about it here either. I'm just stating the facts. Nothing more, nothing less.
So why'd I do it? Like I said before, she had served her purpose and now she was a loose end. Well, before I shot her she was a loose end. Now she was a dead end! Poor Carol.
I needed to get out of town see, and Carol just happened to be at the service station filling up when I came out of the public toilets. I heard her mention to the cashier that she was on her way back to Sydney and it was perfect for me really. Stupid woman stood chatting with the cashier while I slipped out and into the back seat of her Honda CRV. I could have just taken the car 'coz the bitch had even left the keys in the damn thing, not to mention her hand bag sitting on the passenger's seat AND her mobile phone in the hands free charger mounted on the dash. But if I'd just taken her car the cops would have been on to me before I'd gone twenty kilometres so I needed her see?
Fucking women are dumb. And they wonder why they end up being kidnapped or raped, murdered, or simply victims of stolen cars, purses, mobile phones and the like. "Reclaim the Night" their banners shout when they march en-masse to show their superiority as a gender. Reclaim your fucking common sense day and night would be a better catch cry for them.
Carol would learn her lesson the hard way, the ultimate way. But being the charitable soul that I am, I knew my very actions would save the lives of other dumb broads who hopefully would learn from Carols' mistakes. Even if it only saved one, I guess it was worth it, wouldn't you say?
2 — No Love Lost
All I could do was stand there looking at her totally and completely dumbfounded. I mean, it wasn't as if I hadn't heard it before. She'd been telling me the same thing almost every day for the past month but until now I thought she'd been kidding. I sortta guessed she wasn't anymore.
"But, but why Babe? I love you. . ."
"I don't care, I don't care, just get out of my house and don't come back, please, go away and leave me alone, please?"
She knew every single time she said that, 'my house', it would stick in my craw and get under my skin just about worse than anything else. I wouldn't have cared if she said my dick was too small, or that I was a dick head, or my face looked like a hat full of dicks you know? But when she started laying sole claim to something WE shared, that only came about because of the two of us being in partnership, then that made me angry. And she saw it too, noticed it written all over my face straight away she did, the fucking bitch. I saw her eyes widen at about the same time as I felt the automatic flaring of my right nostril, always the right one, never the left one flaring, the glinting narrowing of my right eye only, again, never the left, just the right, just the right of everything.
I couldn't even wink with my left eye without having to scrunch up my entire face, but if I did it with the right, that old eye lid would come down as smoothly, silently and independently as a remote garage door. I noticed this sort of stuff happening for quite awhile now, my ever efficient right side, the side that always reacted first, fastest, strongest; if I was a politician of any party I'd have leaned to the right!
"Shut up Bree" I warned her, out of the right side of my mouth of course.
"Get out of my house" she teased, she excited, she tempted one too many times.
My arm shot out and grabbed her around the throat, my thumb working hard at her windpipe and all my attention focussed on the beautiful porcelain skin of her neck. Oh she struggled alright, she kicked and thrashed and dropped all of her weight against that one arm of mine supporting her life, her body - her whole future lay in that arm. She smashed at it with her hands, her nails, and then desperately with her fists, and I daren't look at her face otherwise I would have been compelled to release her.
The colour of her skin above the handhold on her neck began to take on a decidedly blue colour, like a growing bruise, and the contrast with the white porcelain finish below my hand was astounding. I stared at it intently, barely registering her increasingly feeble movements until I saw her head tilt over onto her own right shoulder, her hair spilling over my wrist and covering her face at the same time, thank God. I couldn't bear to look at her face.
I glanced down at her prone body, hair dishevelled and still covering her face. Taking a deep breath and carefully measuring the distance, my foot connected solidly enough with the point of her chin to almost completely lift her body from the tiles and punch it two metres across the floor where it came to rest, her head now completely turned through 180 degrees to face her back and tilted at an outrageous angle. The snapping sound her neck made was surprisingly small, like breaking a dry twig, and the satisfying thump from my left foot that had taken the brunt of the force reminded me of that now, at least, there was no chance of ever seeing her face. Thank God again.
3 — One Perfect Day
Where was I? I had to think for quite a while as nothing around me was familiar at all. It was as if everything that existed before my eyes, everything that was real had somehow disappeared overnight to be replaced with this new, entirely new vista. At least it was pleasant, of that there could be little disappointment but it still left me with a shaky hold on reality for I didn't know where I was.The sun hung over the sparkling blue seas and it was warm, its radiance coddling me like a mother coddles a baby to her breast. And there were breasts aplenty, which, I realised later rather than sooner, were probably the cause of my instant confusion upon waking. A quick glance to the south and the tip of the lighthouse confirmed what my befuddled brain was slowly catching on. Byron Bay.
I had slept in the park along the main beach of Byron Bay, a sleep so deep that only alcohol could have been responsible and now I had woken to the confusing sight of the white pointers on display in the morning light.
A quick glance confirmed that Carols' CRV was still in the carpark behind me and the conscious decision I'd made not to sleep in it just in case she had been reported as missing. I was normally much more careful, hiding in a non-populated area for a start and nowhere near a potentially incriminating piece of evidence such as that car. But yesterday had been different. I had shot somebody yesterday and I'd never done that before.
Poor Carol. As soon as she jumped into her little car back there at Tweed Heads she had started up and simply driven off into the evening as if everything was hunky dory. When she turned off the highway to follow the coast road, I had risen from the back seat and simply presented her with the facts. I needed her car. And some money. And her phone. And no witnesses. See, I hadn't hidden anything from her! With the threat of my words and the pistol pointed at the back of her head she drove on crying and pleading and blithering like a child.
She was forty she said and she had a daughter waiting for her in Sydney and if she wasn't back there by midday tomorrow she would be missed. Stupid cow! She'd just given me nearly twenty-four hours of luxury to do with what I liked. Even if she didn't turn up and her daughter called the Police they wouldn't start seriously looking for her for days so I could safely stretch that twenty-four hours into a couple of days if I wanted to. I could be in Perth within days, new number plates, a different car even.
Dumb fucking women - they just don't know when they are better off keeping their mouths closed.
She wasn't bad looking for her age and after jumping into the front seat I used the barrel of the pistol to raise her skirt until her crotch became visible. To say she trembled would be an understatement - her lilywhite thighs shook so much I thought she was going to pee herself!
And cry! If she didn't stop soon I was going to get very pissed off. I told her as soothingly as possible to settle down, that I wasn't going to rape her even though she was a very attractive woman (I thought that might have cheered her up a little), but instead without warning she suddenly turned into a little sandy beach track and slammed on the brakes.
Dumb, dumb, dumb! Are all women this fucking dumb?
There was no car behind or in front of us and no vehicles in the little car park at the end of the track she'd turned into, and I didn't even have to move the barrel lying on her thigh to prop myself against the dash with my elbow. I admit though, the pressure I did have to apply to the gun meant the foresight scratched her a tiny bit but at least she should be happy I hadn't pulled the trigger! We lurched to a halt, my elbow against the dash and my other arm curled around the headrest of the passenger's seat.
If she had waited another few minutes I probably would have released the headrest so I could stroke the side of her face and we could have been driving through one of the little towns along this stretch of road too.
See how absolutely freakin' dumb she had been? Really fucking dumb.
She looked at me and through her sobs and her tears she offered herself to me if I would only let her go. She offered me the car as well and she promised she wouldn't call the police, if I would just let her go. I smiled at her and nodded, I told her okay, if that would make her stop crying and feel better. I suggested the back seat would be more comfortable though and in her eagerness, her desperation, she agreed, she actually agreed! She opened her car door and was turning to get out and that's when I really felt sorry for her . . . and for me. I had hitched up the hem of her skirt with the pistol remember, and as she spread her legs to exit I got an eyeful of crotch, granted still in the twilight and by the glow of the dashboard lights (Oh Meatloaf would be proud of me!).
Because she had been so stupid, so utterly fucking dumb, I was left with no choice, but I'd hesitated when she spread her legs like that. Gave me an instant erection it did and my eyes were still frozen on her panties when the sound of the gun went off and shocked me so bad that I rocked back and hit my head on the side window behind me.
Without even thinking, and yeah I know I had bragged a little about my premeditation earlier but this here is the real truth; without consciously thinking about it I simply raised the pistol while still looking at her crotch and shot her in the side of the head.
She cart wheeled out the door as good as any Olympic gymnast a third of her age but then they didn't have to do it in a short tight black skirt, white silk blouse and black knickers. But neither were they propelled by the weight of that 9 mm projectile entering her skull at the rate of about 800 metres-per-second. Granted, the velocity was seriously weakened at its exit from her head but somehow, I don't think that crossed poor Carols' mind at that point. Poor Carols' mind was sprayed out over the sandy carpark with a few irrelevant thoughts now seeping down her window and interior door trim.
I sat there amazed, the pistol still raised in my left hand pointing out the open driver's door, the unwavering barrel hadn't even followed her body as it fell, was propelled. And apart from the shock of how loud it had been in the confines of the car, I didn't recall even lifting it, the feel of the trigger or even the recoil when it did fire. It was only the sound that stayed with me, and the sight of Carol doing her perfect ten headlong dive out the door. Or should that be half a headlong dive?
My hand dropped now as I thought of it though and rested on the driver's seat, the warmth of where she had sat immediately imparting itself to the back of my hand. Dumb as dog shit she may have been but I missed her already.
I used her knickers then to clean the minor mess in the car and I can assure you that I did it with all proper reverence. There was no funny business, I am neither into old gals or dead gals. Her skirt and blouse were too nice to use and I did close my eyes when I had taken those panties off, and when I put them back on. Yes, put them back on - I didn't want poor Carol having strangers perving at her private furry bits when they found her. It was proper decorum I think, just like Mom used to tell you when she said to make sure you always wore clean underwear, and this was definitely one of those times to which I think Mom was referring.
Dousing the lights on the car I placed Carol off a little into the scrub, about ten minutes stumbles' worth I think it was. I didn't want her found in a hurry but I did want her found. Her poor daughter would be extremely distraught until then, and I reiterate, I am not a callous man.
Afterwards, kicking dry sand over the area that she had given a piece of her mind to (I makes myself laugh sometimes!), I even looked up to the darkening sky and the earliest stars and asked God to make sure that somebody located her by about Saturday. Yes, that would do, Saturday. Then nothing at all would be done until Monday at the earliest because the poor old police had better things to do on weekends than go chasing off after every allegedly missing person. Then I jumped in MY car and drove on down to Byron.
I'd parked up the esplanade a little way out from the more heavily lit area of the Top Pub, and then rifled through Carol's hand bag. The wallet in her purse contained nearly $600 in cash, even though she'd used her credit card at the servo where we'd met but more interestingly was the pin number of her credit card in one of the other little zippered sections of the very same wallet. I was right, she had been a very seriously dumb bitch.
That night I withdrew $350 from her savings account (it wouldn't let me take anymore because of the thousand dollar daily limit on withdrawals, so the six hundred she had obviously withdrawn earlier that day) a thousand from her credit card and a thousand from her cheque account. Her balances astounded me and I was confused by them at first. She had something like sixty-five thousand available for withdrawal from her savings, was almost four thousand under the limit of her credit card and there was an astounding two hundred and twelve thousand in her cheque account. For a dumb bitch she had certainly accumulated some wealth.
I had meant to return to the ATM after midnight and withdraw some more, but what with having so much money in my pocket and after a huge meal at the pub, I sortta ended up drinking too much. Which is why I found myself waking up overlooking the beach the next morning and not some miles from where I had parked her, my car. Got some of Carols' money and I was getting as dumb and careless as she was. That will have to change. Immediately.
First thing I did that morning was go back to the ATM and withdrew another thousand from each account. Well actually the first thing I did was take a piss, then three aspirins, but the first thing of any substance I did was to get back to that ATM machine because after this morning, I wouldn't be able to take out any more without leaving a paper trail a blind monkey could follow. I stood off to one side of the machine when I carried out last nights' withdrawals, and did the same thing this morning just in case they had the camera working for a change. I also wiped down the machine and the card and Byron being Byron, nobody even gave me a second look. Finally, and with a heavy sigh and droop of my shoulders, I dropped the card with the pin number written on it into the street within a dozen steps of the machine. I looked at it for several seconds knowing that I would probably never see that much money again in my life, then walked away.
Breakfast was sumptuous - pancakes! I love pancakes! You hear and read about Americans eating their 'hotcakes' for breakfast all the time, and I reckon I'd get sick of 'em if I ate them that often. Like porridge that Ma made me eat as a kid, once I left 'ome I never ate that stuff again. Yuk!
After breakfast, it was on the road again. I reckon I had today and maybe tomorrow to put some more miles between me and Carol, and while ever I was heading in her intended direction of travel I was always going to be in some sort of potential danger, so I decided to go the back roads, inland.
4 — Reminiscing
I hadn't travelled on some of those roads for quite a few years, so after topping up the tank (she only took 6 litres from where Carol and I had met the previous afternoon) and purchasing a map, I set off for Bangalow a few kilometres down the road and really another little extension of Byron that was fast becoming just as feral. Cute but still feral all the same.From Bangalow it was a uneventful run to Lismore which is the largest regional town in the area. Though still relatively early in the day, I decided to stop because I'd gone to school in Lismore for one year and I felt somehow that I would never be back.
It's funny how as you get older you start to reminisce about times that may well have been simpler but not necessarily better. I wasn't hungry but I stopped at a diner in the main street (try finding one of those in any city these days!) and got some drinks and a couple of sandwiches to go, then I wandered down to the park near the river.
"Hey Shaun!" I wasn't really taking much notice of anything so the sound of my name didn't register at all. "Shaun! Shaun Ellis. Hoy?"
Hearing my full name got through to the old gray matter and I stopped, looking around very puzzled. I saw this guy in his mid-twenties so he was around my age but nothing looked familiar about him. I cocked my head at him as he approached so that he could see my lack of recognition.
"Shaun, Steven Smith. Ballina High School?"
"Ho, hey, yeah. How ya doin'?" I didn't remember him but then I'd gone to Ballina for only a year as well, and that had been over a decade ago. I seemed to do a lot of moving around between schools.
"Yeah, great mate. What ya up to?"
"Nah, not much, just heading to, to, ah, back home to Brisbane after visiting friends down the coast here."
We shook hands and I felt an uncommon strength in his grip. He was only a small guy but obviously very strong, and then it clicked. He had been one of the High School athletic and sporting stars back then but what made him different was that it never seemed to go to his head. He was relatively quiet compared to the other jocks.
"Oh yeah? I, we live in Brisbane, me and my girlfriend. Say, she went to Ballina High as well, Rebecca Archer - her sister Glenda was closer to our age - maybe you remember her too? We're getting married in a few months, me and Rebecca I mean. Maybe we can catch up before then?" I didn't know any Rebecca Archer but I sure remembered that Glenda. She was a honey, a real living doll that one, and if her sister was anything like her then Steven had done real good for himself. "You, um, married or anything Shaun?"
"No, no. Glenda Archer? Um, she the one that died man, was killed at Byron wasn't she? I remember that. Fuckin' cops tried for ages to pin it on me, that's why I left Ballina."
"No kidding? I never knew that, I'm sorry man."
"'s'okay, not many people knew anything about me."
"I did. We used to go down the Mobil and get a fuckin' Whimpy Burger, remember?"
"Yeah, yeah, that's right. Sorry Steve, I moved around so much I don't always remember everything."
"Yeah, of course, I understand. Where ya headin' right now? Wanna go catch a beer or something? You got a bit of time?"
"Um, yeah. No! I was just goin' down the park, have a coke before heading back up the highway. Drank a bit too much last night so I don't really want a beer," I laughed at him.
"That's okay, I understand. I, you know, I thought about you sometimes, wondered what happened to you. I hope that doesn't sound weird, I'm no poofta or anything," he laughed back at me.
"It is a bit funny, my old man is flat out remembering me, so why should you?"
He looked at me out of the top of his eyes, you know, he had dropped his head to face the ground and only looked up with his eyes. I remembered he used to do it a lot as a kid and the girls really seemed to like him for it. Coy, yeah, a coy look I think you'd describe it. There weren't nothing coy about his words though.
"I saw you do something incredible once."
"What?" I said flatly to him but I already knew what he was going to say.
"I saw you lift a teacher up by the neck until he was almost a foot off the floor, and you only did it with one arm. That was an amazing Shaun."
"Yeah, and it got me expelled. So what?"
"But how, how did you do it? You always looked like you were right handed, I saw you have a few fights in the yard and you fought like a natural right hander, you wrote and threw a ball right handed - but you lifted Mr Reinhardt with only your left, just your left! How Shaun, how did, well, just how?"
I was feeling uncomfortable with Stevens' questioning and I looked down at my feet, watching them shift aimlessly from side to side, shuffling the dirt and grass. I could hear his voice still, questioning, probing, and in my mind I saw my right foot continue to mould the grassy pile up against my now still left foot. Some of the grass stuck to my sock and a little dirt even trickled down between it and my Adidas jogger such was the height of the pile I was accumulating. One word hit me and I felt my eyes closed tight against it as if the glare of the sun was too strong.
"How?"
When I opened my eyes again I had Steven in a neck grip, but unlike the fragility of poor Bree, Steven stood sentry still looking at me unconcerned. A stentorian voice filled my head at about the same time that I realised his eyes had also changed. The shock of his eyes voided the words I was hearing - they were orange, not just a pale orange but a flashing halation made more frightening by his dark pupils which had narrowed to a pencil thin vertical line like a cat and so black that the flaring light emanating from behind was completely obliterated. It was like looking through a short glaringly bright orange tunnel toward two black lines painted on a far wall and all the more supernatural as the rest of world around us remained visible and apparently undisturbed around this visage. The words I was hearing in my head became clearer and my shock again increased when my befuddled brain recognised they came from Steven, even though his lips didn't move.
"Let me go Shaun. I won't hurt you. Just let go."
I don't know how many times he repeated them but they were somehow soothing, though the voice itself was frightening in its depth and timbre.
I let go and a memory twigged, instantaneously.
"It was you!"
His eyes had ceased that eerie glow but he stood there so nonchalantly that I thought he hadn't heard me.
"You did it, you killed Glenda Archer at Byron!"
He was shaking his head, "No, Shaun, wasn't me but I do know it wasn't you either."
I don't know who or what Steven was but I didn't want to be around him anymore. I waved my hand, my right hand still cradling my sandwich packet at him and just turned and walked away. I glanced back one time and he was still there looking right at me, a tight little knowing smile on his face. He was one scary dude and I was relieved when I turned the corner and a block of shops took him out of sight, and me from his. I hoped.
I doubled back around a few blocks to where the Honda waited patiently, jumped in after a wary search of the area and drove out of Lismore as quickly as I could without breaking too many speed laws and attracting the wrong kind of attention.
He said he was on his way to Brisbane, which was great because I was heading in the opposite direction.
5 — Trippin'
I drove all that day and most of the night, stopping only for the essentials, food, fuel and refreshment. I knew Monday was the big day, the day when Carol would probably be reported missing and a search initiated, if they hadn't found her already. I didn't miss her anymore, fact is, I hardly remembered her either. If I hadn't had such a leisurely start the previous morning, I probably would have made it too, you know, got away clean. But that few hours delay, then another hour or so in Lismore later probably cost me at least a few hundred kilometres, hours plus kilometres equals safety. I nearly made it.I got across the border into South Australia with no problem, miles of relatively straight uninhabited highways and with a full tank of juice in Broken Hill (I kept laughing and asking the pump jockey what they were going to name the town after they fixed it!), I was thinking of another quick stop in Port Augusta because I have this other weakness, besides pancakes that is . . . KFC.
When I was a kid, if someone had said KFC to me, I'd probably boofed him 'coz in those days it was called Kentucky Fried Chicken, or more reverently, The Colonel's. Yeah, if someone had said KFC, I wouldna known what they were talking about so I'd bust them one thinking it was some personal insult or something! It's different now of course, times change, technology advances and The Colonel's gets abbreviated. I didn't know if they had any KFC after Port Augusta but I had the munchies on and the only thing that would fix it was KFC.
There's a big BP as you come into Port Augusta, it's where the trucks and road trains stop to refuel and the drivers shower and feed, and all the four wheel drive wannabes also stop before they go off into the outback. I could have stopped anywhere but this seemed as good a place as any and I wanted directions to KFC.
I refuelled the Honda and parked away from the bowsers before going in to pay. I realised when I saw truckies with their change of clothes and shower kits grabbing keys for the shower rooms from the cashier that I was probably a bit on the nose. I wasn't even sure what day it was, I think Saturday or Sunday so I'd been wearing the same outfit without a shower myself for more than two days at least, more likely three. It hadn't been important before now.
When had the initial altercation with Bree happened? I think three days ago, I dunno, I was too tired after driving all day and all night. Maybe it was time to rest up, just a little, swap plates on the Honda or swap cars altogether?
"Yeah mate?"
The cashier brought me back to the present. I paid for the petrol, asked about KFC and the cost of a shower then went back to the Honda with the satisfactory answers I'd got. Where I parked was a little away from the main entrance and the opposite side to where the big trucks refuelled so I thought forty winks was in order. My eyelids kept dropping on me really making any choices I had redundant. Redundant, that's a big word for me, I know, but I learnt it from the many labouring jobs I'd had over the years. Repetition is a wonderful thing for the memory.
There was a loud banging on the window right beside my head and I came awake with a frightened jump. The bright fluoro lighting over the bowsers behind me lit up the area dramatically but not enough that I couldn't see it was night time. How long had I slept? No idea.
The thumping came again and I turned my head to see the slightly overweight, middle-aged cashier standing right beside me. She had changed out of her green uniform but I recognised her chubby, sullen face, so I sat up and opened the door. She had to take a quick step back to avoid the door but then she leant over a little to see me, and to look inside the car.
"Mate, you've had ya sleep, you'll have to move on," her eyes roaming the inside of the vehicle that she couldn't see before through the window tint. When her eyes roamed back and settled on me she added, "you still look beat but the night shift won't let ya stay here. Gotta proposal for ya," she grinned without a trace of humour reaching her eyes.
I stretched and put my legs out onto the ground as if I was getting out. She took another step back so I held up my hand, palm forward, as a peace gesture to her.
"Just stretchin', sorry, what's the proposal? I gotta girlfriend you know." Dunno why I added the last bit, maybe in response to hearing the word proposal which only conjures up thoughts of churches, cake, bridesmaids and until death do us part, not the most attractive thing for me that's for sure! She must have got the same idea 'coz she laughed and this time her eyes went with it which made me feel more relaxed. "What time is it anyway?"
"Just after eight," she didn't even glance at her watch so she must have finished her shift about then. "And the proposal," she laughed again, "gimme a lift into town and I'll show where KFC is, that's it." Her eyes roamed what she could see of the interior of the Honda again.
"You checkin' my car for something in particular?"
She laughed again, her eyes dancing with merriment now. "Gotta make sure you ain't no serial killer before askin' for a ride."
"Well, not yet," I said with complete and total honesty, "but I'm workin' on it!"
Bless her for coming out with this next bit. "Well I'm safe 'coz we're directly under one of the cameras here," and she pointed up at the side of the building.
"Then I can guarantee you won't be victim number one," I laughed.
My laughter was genuine, I do like making myself laugh but what she said made me think of the first night when I met Carol. Did they have cameras at that servo? Don't know and I guess it doesn't matter now but I considered that since it was two, or maybe it was three (?) nights ago then it probably don't mean much anymore considering I was two states and I dunno how many thousands of kilometres away. Except now I really should change the car or at least the plates.
"I still need a shower," I told her.
"Uhuh, come on, grab whatcha need and meet me inside," she smiled and walked back to the entrance. As the auto doors opened she turned back and gestured at me, "hurry up, KFC closes at nine!"
I rumbled around in Carol's suitcase on the back seat, found some shower essentials, obviously female but beggars can't be choosers now can they! No clothes but that was something I could fix in the servo. When I'd paid for petrol, even my sleep deprived brain had seen quite the range of singlets, t-shirts, shorts and the like, not a department store by any means but enough for my immediate needs. I wandered into the shop, saw her talking to the cashier on duty and went and grabbed some clothes before meeting up with her again.
The male cashier was eyeing me up and down and there wasn't a trace of humour in the look he was giving me. I plonked the clothes down in front of him and looked at my cashier, the woman. She was holding out a key to me attached to a big plastic yellow smiley face by a short length of string. I took it and held the smiley face up beside my own face.
"Twins?" I smiled at her. She laughed and as she still had her hand out that had held the key, I took it. "Shaun," and we briefly shook. It was a brief handshake because when she stopped laughing she gave her name in return.
"Carole!" The coincidence shook me, much worse than I cared to admit and it was obvious to her as well. "Whoa, you okay?"
I could feel my body trembling and was desperately hoping it wasn't visible to all and sundry. I glanced around, the restaurant area was quite busy but here in the shop, it was only the three of us. It was Carole herself who gave me the impetus to relax.
"No, don't tell me? That your girlfriend's name too?
I winked at her, "you got it!" and we both laughed again.
"Well, us Carole's are classy, as yours is judging by her perfume I could smell in your car!"
Dames are so observant when it comes to other women. I hadn't noticed the perfume at all but I'd been living in it for a couple of days so maybe it was lost on me. I took her word for it though.
I paid for my new clothes, went and showered and met Carole back at the cashiers desk. The man still looked at me sullenly and I realised right there and then that he'd probably been trying to proposition Carole for a drink, or sex or something for ages, then suddenly this stranger turns up, me, and whisks his Carole away after barely meeting. No wonder he looked pissed off!
"Let's go," I proffered my elbow to her and dropped the shower key in front of him. He didn't notice the key, his glare of hate now completely unhidden. Carole laughed and gripped my arm lightly as we walked out.
"See ya Tuesday Errol," she called back over her shoulder.
"Tuesday?" I asked her after we settled into the Honda.
"Yeah, my weekend started half hour ago, come on, go go if you still want KFC."
6 — Secret Hideaway
I got my KFC and I got Carole too because after she accepted the invitation to join me for dinner, we collected take away and went back to her flat. It just so happened her flat was in a single level block of concrete non-descript attached houses, separated by gardens and, blessed me, a garage. Carole didn't use her garage so the Honda was secreted away safely out of sight from prying eyes, after removing the ubiquitous plastic garden setting out into the garden where it belonged.Carole wasn't so bad now she was relaxed and away from work. She was still middle-aged, she was still portly but she always had a cheeky smile and she never mentioned my girlfriend again. Neither did she mention the car, the perfume smell or the suitcase sitting on the back seat, obviously female 'cos it was pink. I think she was just happy to have the company of a younger man, you know, the kind of company you don't show off to your friends and family, or neighbours, well not without a wink and a nod anyway!
The next morning she told me she had to go visit her Mother in the nursing home and that I was welcome to rest up until she got back in the afternoon. I thanked her knowing exactly what I could do with the time. She told me about the spare key in its little hidey-hole and with a cheeky smile and distinct spring in her middle-aged step, she left. I even thought I heard her whistling as she walked away!
Straight on with the television and luckily, found the news report had just started. There was no reporting about the missing Carol or her car. After checking for the spare key which of course was there, I locked the front door and strolled off into town, only about a kilometre away. Here I bought some extra clothes and more suitable male shower accessories plus a soft duffle bag to throw it all in. I also got a little combination screwdriver set at the same little department store. I'd need that later.
On the walk into town I'd noticed a little dirt parking lot surrounded by chain link fencing with assorted shrubs and weeds growing over it. There was no gate and the condition of the rusty fence probably meant the gate had died of old age and been removed some time ago. I hadn't seen any obvious security cameras (I looked for them now, better late than never you know!) but there was a steel pole almost in the centre of the little carpark adorned with four spotlights angled towards the corners. The three spotlights I could see as I walked into the carpark all had broken lenses and rusty, and dusty, reflectors.
Sitting against the far fence was Honda CRV, the same silver colour as mine and I think the same exact model even. From the footpath I had only seen the roof but I knew the distinct shape. The carpark was only half full and showed signs of regular activity even though the yard itself was very rundown. As I walked toward the Honda, which was indeed the twin of mine now that I could see it all, I saw nobody in the yard. I stopped beside a beat up Datsun with relatively new number plates, probably a renewal from out of state, got out my new screw drivers and removed those shiney clean plates. Two screws each and plink, away they came, all of about ten seconds for each plate. Still nobody around as I walked over to the Honda, replaced its front plate with that from the Datsun then repeat at the rear. My new plates went into the duffel bag with my new clothes and I went home. Well Carole's place that is.
My intention was to be gone before Carole came home and I think deep down, she'd be thinking I'd be gone too. Trouble with that idea was the garage was locked. With no internal door and the front door key of the flat useless on the roller door, I had only two choices - wait for Carole or try jimmying the lock on the garage. Maybe that's why Carole was whistling when she left? Fucking bitches all of them!
I was just about to try jimmying the door itself when the thought occurred that there might be a spare key to the garage somewhere in the flat. I looked everywhere, every drawer, every cupboard, every wardrobe . . . and nothing. This was becoming frustrating and it took whatever self-control I possessed to stop punching a hole through the thin fibre walls. I sat down in the little kitchen almost ready to start looking through drawers again when Carole came through the front door. Her surprised look told me straight away that she thought I'd be gone too but then her cheeky smile returned after a kinda self-satisfied smirk.
"Thought you'd be gone," she confirmed.
"Nah, it'd be rude to leave without sayin' goodbye."
"I understand you'll be goin' soon then - you're new duffel bag is sittin' in the driveway." Damn it all, how stupid was that! I was thinking hard trying to remember if I'd left the bag open or closed but then she leaned out through the doorway and hoisted my duffel bag into the little entry way. Closed. Phew! "Best not be leavin' things in plain view like that, it ain't the best neighbourhood," she laughed!
I laughed with her but really I was laughing at my own stupidity. I'd allowed myself to relax, and not look at the possible consequences that created. Women may be stupid sometimes but us men allow it to be contagious. I needed to wise up and I berated myself for being an idiot.
"Actually, I was gettin' ready to go but I was gonna wait for you first. Besides, the garage door was locked," I announced as nonchalantly as possible and damn if she didn't burst into laughter.
It took an enormous effort not to leap up off the chair and throw her through the closest wall where I could delight in kicking that fat slag until she shut the fuck up. But that still wouldn't open the garage now, would it? I took some deep breaths and looked at my shoes, her laughter continuing to peal away inside my head. The erroneous thought that I should also have bought some new shoes this morning helped to settle the nerves. I dragged my eyes up to look at her hoping the murderous intent had mellowed. Her laughter died away and she actually looked at me kindly, which also helped to mellow the internal desire to throttle her.
"It ain't locked," she announced, "sorry 'bout laughin'. C'mon, I'll show you," and she reversed out the door.
I was still sitting there cursing under my breath again at my own stupidity when she called through the open doorway.
"Come on, it's easy when ya know how."
I stood up slowly and flexed my tense shoulders, shaking my arms all the way down through to the fingertips, then walked out into the bright sunshine. She stood in front of the garage, the cheeky smile in place and beginning to aggravate me. I shook my head at her and smiled, well tried to smile but what must have happened looked gruesome instead because her grin faded and she stood upright, defensively.
"Shaun?"
She voiced it softly, gently, perfectly. It was perfect because it helped me relax even more, my shoulders slumped and I could feel my face opening in a genuine smile this time.
"Yeah, sorry, I was a bit tense y'know, frustrated at my own stupidity."
It was an honest reply on my part but I don't know how much she had really seen of me, in me, during the past tense minutes. She was a nice lady, somebody very foreign to me, something I wasn't used to. I took another deep breath and smiled wider and saw her tension also released.
"Come here then." She turned to the garage door and dropped her hand onto the handle. "Ain't never had a key, never needed one but look," she twisted the handle to the left and slid the door up halfway. "Idiots installed the door musta put the lock in upside down 'coz ya hafta turn the handle to the left. Most people would naturally turn it to the right and o' course, it won't move that way."
I was shaking my head, so simple, I could have been out of here an hour ago. That's what happens when a man relaxes - he loses all his senses and even seemingly easy tasks become difficult.
"I'm an idiot."
"Nah, it's a common mistake, don't be so hard on yourself."
And with that I understood what Carole saw in me. She thought I was dissing on myself when in fact I was forcing down the intent to do her bodily harm. I shook my head again, what a bloody nice lady she is but really, she was just as stupid as all women. Who brings a total stranger home? Carole did. Who brings a total stranger into her car? Carol did. I didn't have a chance to find out if the other Carol was a nice lady or not, her stupidity had overrode everything and all I'd seen in her was the opportunity to take advantage of someone too dumb to recognise what she'd done. This Carole was different because she'd played it safe at the start by pointing out the security camera to me, then made it public to her work colleague, what's-his-name with the hate filled vibe just because he couldn't make out with Carole. Errol, yeah, Errol, that was him, stupid old fart!
"You're a nice lady y'know."
"Thank you Shaun, and I think you're a lovely young man. You can stay longer if you want?" She added with more than a cheeky glint in the eye.
I was comfortable, well relatively speaking I was comfortable but I'd seen the result of relaxing which was something I couldn't afford to do again. She was a nice lady and I didn't want to have to hurt her and the longer I stayed, the greater the possibility she would find out that I was on the run . . . then she would get hurt. I kept thinking about what to do and the longer I stood there, the more her hopes were getting up - and the more she was thinking how she could get me up too no doubt! The previous evening together had been dark and fuelled by a few beers but now it was daytime, and the reality was she was a nice lady but not what anybody would call attractive. Well perhaps Errol would! And I was on the run. Can you run and not be actually running? Nah, I didn't think so either.
"I'd like to, but I really have to run."
"I understand," she nodded knowingly, "but the offer stands . . . and if you come back this way, you'd be welcome too," she smiled rather sadly.
7 — Detour
I left hours later than I'd wanted. In reality, it was probably a day too late, what with all the previous delays then a layoff (ha ha, then a lay!) for nearly a full day at Carole's. I compounded it by going through the KFC drive thru to collect a bucket more of the Colonel's best because I didn't know when I'd ever see it again. From my best recollection of somewhere I've never been before, there wasn't much after I passed out of Port Augusta! Perth, that's all I knew and whatever was between here and there was all new to me.Not too far out of town was a big intersection, something common where road trains operate, the intersections have to be big so they can wend their over length forms around more easily. The sign said, Coober Pedy, Alice Springs and Darwin off to my right, and straight on was Port Lincoln, Ceduna and Perth. I drove straight ahead, no real plan but thinking Perth was safe, another country almost. I didn't even know anybody from Perth. Was it even part of Australia? Dunno, but that's where I was going.
It was late in the afternoon now and driving into the setting sun was annoying to say the least. I should have cleaned the windscreen when I refuelled at the BP. I squirted the windscreen and nothing came out, the wipers squealing across dry glass, once, twice, then a third and last time before coming to an automatic halt. I smashed at the steering wheel in frustration, the stupid bitch Carol intended driving through the night to Sydney and hadn't even filled up the windscreen washer bottle. Fuck, fuck, fuck, stupid women! I rolled off the road, no vehicles in sight, and leapt out of the car. Running around to the front I saw something that stopped me dead.
Staring at me was Carol's bug splattered Queensland number plates! I kicked the dirt, I kicked at rocks, yelling and screaming to the surrounding nothingness that stupid women infect men and they do it deliberately so the whole world could be stupid. Fuck, fuck, fuck again. It took a few minutes but eventually I slumped against the shady side of the car and slid down into a sitting position, the gravel and rocks hard and hot against my bare legs, but I didn't care. I looked out into nowhere, seeing naked rock hills and stunted trees and I thought it was the exact place for a stupid person to be. I glanced back, no cars coming, I glanced forward and had to shade my eyes from the glare of the sun but saw nothing coming from that direction either.
Jumping up, I opened the back door and grabbed that combination screwdriver set and the purloined plates out of my duffel bag. Still nothing coming, so I raced to the back and fuck, fuck, FUCK again, the stupid frigging number plate was a different shape to the ones I'd knicked - it was almost square where the new ones were the more normal rectangular shape. I put on the new one anyway, cursing and swearing at the shiny paint that made it obvious there was a new plate in position . . . I grabbed a handful of tough stunted grass and gravel and rubbed it over the new plate and surrounding shiny paint work, then remembered I had water in the car too! Actually, Carol had water in the car, a little five litre container sitting in the boot section that I'd first seen two days ago but forgotten about . . . until now.
The rear door opened and that container sat there staring at me, almost saying 'tah daaaa, here I am moron', and danged if that wasn't right too. I felt like a moron, panicking over nothing like I'd been doing for God knows how many minutes now. I grabbed the container, slammed the door closed and almost ripped off the plastic top of the container, spilling lukewarm water down my front. Some of it managed to slosh exactly where I needed it and I followed it up with another handful of grass and gravel. Using my bare hand, I wiped the excess from the plate itself, then again, 'tah daaaa', it looked like it had been there since new. Simple, but I was becoming a simpleton. Too much stupidity, too much idiocy, too much relaxing, not enough thinking, not enough driving. Time to be clear and get clear.
The front plate was the right shape, another twenty second job and I hoiked Carol's two plates off into the near desert where the weather and harsh conditions could deal with them quick enough. I sloshed some more water over the windscreen, went and opened the bonnet and filled up the empty windscreen washer container. As I was doing that I remembered were all the screen wash had gone . . . I'd used it all on my night drive from Lismore into South Australia, so poor stupid and dead Carol was off the hook for that one. Still, it had been her stupidness that rubbed off on me in the first place, that's why I forgot.
Just as I dropped the bonnet, a car, a 4wd off course, every car out here seemed to be a four-wheel-drive of some sort, pulled up beside me. How I didn't hear it was beyond me because even the noise from the big off-road tyres on bitumen was growling even though it was moving very slowly. At speed it would have been a roar.
The passenger window slid down and a pretty blonde face peered out, in the background, from the driver's seat, a man was slouched across looking at me.
"Yer right there cob?"
I made sure the bonnet was closed properly before sauntering the couple of steps to their idling car and lifted the water container so they could see it.
"Just topping up the screen wash," I explained with a smile.
"Only water?" he asked again looking concerned.
"Yeah why?"
"Depends how far ya heading right now cob. If ya intend driving through the night, you'll need an additive otherwise the water will just smear your windscreen, not clean it."
He sought of made it a question which I frowned at - none of his business where I was going. I glanced at the pretty girl and for a country gal, she was more than just pretty, she was absolutely beautiful.
He shook my hand and said, "You'll still need an additive, got some in back if you want?"
"Cool, that'd be great, thanks."
"No worries cob, just let me pull off the road a bit before a road train comes through. Murphy's Law dictates that two'd come from opposite directions and meet exactly where we're double parked!"
I had no idea about who Murphy or his Law was but seeing as he and the girl laughed at the same time, I thought I better follow suit. Thinking about it, I didn't know who cob was either but that was twice he called me that I shrugged, thinking being called an ear of corn was the least of my problems at the moment. He drove off and stopped about ten metres in front before reversing back to be only a few metres away. He didn't switch off the engine but jumped out and hurried around the back of his car where I was waiting. I was still smiling and laughing a bit when he arrived but on seeing him, I couldn't help but laugh even more. I tried to smother it, truly I did, but I couldn't help myself.
There he was, cut off sleeves, short shorts, thongs on his feet, standing beside this whopping great four wheel drive with humungous off-road tyres and his head didn't even reach the top of his spare wheel hanging off the back. I ain't the tallest person around but he didn't even make it to my shoulders he was that short! The big lump of four wheel drive and the pretty girl, I just laughed until tears were coming out of my eyes and he damn well knew why I was laughing too, he knew I was laughing at him, he had probably grown up with people laughing at it, or rather, he hadn't grown up and people laughed! L He looked sour.
"You want the screen wash or not cob?"
His eyes were popping out of his head and still I laughed and when his pretty little girl showed up beside us, staring and gaping, I laughed some more as I dropped him to the ground and grabbed her. She wasn't as tiny but she was lighter and the pale skin of her neck was as smooth and white as Bree's had been, and even that damn purple shade was the same above where my hand held her in its death grip. I dropped her gasping frame down beside her boyfriend/husband, her hands immediately coming up in a defensive gesture which I ignored.
All I could see was that pretty face, the little t-top and her braless boobies dancing as she gasped for air, and the tiniest pair of denim shorts I've ever seen. She sawed her legs and arms around as she kept trying to drag in air through her damaged windpipe and the shorts were that tiny I kept getting glimpses of her pretty pink panties underneath. That did it. My laughing stopped. This was serious now. I ripped open the back door of their car which swung out sideways and effectively blocked any view from passing vehicles, tossed out everything I could grab as quickly as I could then threw her in on her back, tearing those shorts and panties as she thrashed away now, her pretty blues eyes staring in terror.
Later, after the sun had gone down a bit, I buried them side by side in a shallow grave and used Carol's number plates to mark the place. Shorts and shorter I called them, and laughed and laughed as I walked back to the road and now two waiting vehicles, one of them still idling away.
How long had I been here? How long had they been here? How many vehicles had passed without me seeing or hearing them? I wasn't sure but the sun wasn't far off the horizon so in total, it probably wasn't much more than an hour at most. The passing vehicles were of no consequence - if they'd seen a problem and stopped, I would know about it already, and if they'd telephoned or radioed in a problem, I wasn't that far out of Port Augusta yet that the cops wouldn't be here by now. So, nothing to stress over. Well except for the fact I had two vehicles sitting there and an unknown number of witnesses that had seen them together. Deal with it, Shaun, I told myself.
I got into their 4wd, after laughing loudly and putting the driver's seat back about a metre, then slowly cruised off in my chosen direction. Only two or three kilometres up the road was another of those huge intersections, straight ahead to Port Lincoln, off to the right went to Ceduna and Perth. I turned right, as is my wont, and began a steady climb uphill, trying hard to get used to the clunking gear change of the car, and there, not a kilometre from the intersection was a 'Lookout', a tourist signposted location for people to view the nothingness available from an elevated position. I drove into it slowly, no cars hidden behind the stunted bushes and trees and no fence or barrier of any kind to stop a vehicle from dropping over the convenient cliff face on the other side. I left the car in first gear and allowed it to idle along toward the cliff, opened the door and jumped out, walking alongside so I could slide the seat forward again, just in case you know! I can be smart sometimes but not smart enough to think about fingerprints.
I had forgotten the security cameras when I met Carol and her Honda and that hadn't caused a problem, I had forgotten to put the new plates on the Honda before leaving the other Carole and that hadn't been a problem and I had forgotten about fingerprints anywhere and I didn't think that would be a problem either. So, I got one right, as you'll see.
I wandered back to the road, thankful the sun had almost gone and also because I couldn't see shorts and shorter's car after it's drop off the cliff. And it was a downhill walk back to the Honda too! That walk gave me plenty of time to reflect on the important things in life, you know, like how and why are the roads out here are so good when no bloody cars or trucks are using them? Stupid country, full of stupid women making men stupid too. It was some relief to get back to the Honda and swig on the lukewarm water and to my delight, to see the bucket of chicken sitting on the passenger's seat! I thought I might drive back to the lookout and have a chicken dinner but instead, I drove off and went straight through toward Port Lincoln, just as I'd told shorts and shorter!
8 — The End Is Nigh
Some would argue that a smarter man than I would have seen the signs, and I ain't talking about road signs here, I'm talking about the indications that something wasn't quite right. The lack of traffic, other than shorts and shorter, should have been the red light. What I didn't know of course, or the Police, was that they had come from a little off-road track inside the cordoned off area. And if I had got to the top of the hill where I had driven their 4wd to dispose of, I would have seen the roadblock there that waited for me just over the crest. But none of that happened.Carol's daughter in Sydney did report her missing and I had been right, the Police didn't start looking for her until Monday morning. That's when a trace of her recent financial transactions led them to the service station on the Gold Coast where we'd met. There were security cameras, and they got great footage of me in the shop "scoping" the victim then sliding out into her car to wait for her. The trail led to Byron Bay of course, and because I had a Police Record in the state of New South Wales, they matched up my pictures from Queensland with my record there. So they knew who was responsible and centred their search in the north of the state. That came to nothing because I, and Carol or her Honda, wasn't there. At this time, the investigation was minimalist.
Then they found Carol. Poor Carol. I hope whoever found her saw the propriety I had served on her and also gave her the respect she deserved, though now I only remember her snivelling, oh, and her trembling lily white thighs! T'was her own stupidity that got her killed.
The investigation was accelerated after that and the NSW Roads and Traffic Authority cameras were painstakingly searched. The cameras are in place to monitor heavy vehicles, and automatic records are initiated when they pass through the cameras but for an ordinary vehicle like mine, like Carol's, somebody had to "guess" the approximate time the specified vehicle would reach a set camera and manually watch each and every video until they literally saw the Honda pass. I guess someone got lucky because after the first positive identification, it was fairly easy to trace my movements afterward. It had taken them a couple of days, a couple of days where my own laziness and stupidity had allowed them to catch up.
South Australia has a similar but infinitely smaller system of cameras to that of NSW, but they were, perhaps, a bit smarter than their interstate colleagues. How did they find me? Easy, firstly by putting out a state wide confidential search request that went to all refuelling stations, and major outlets of fast food chains. Errol back at the BP Port Augusta must have been so happy seeing that request came before his very green with envy eyes, my picture and that of Carol's car together. If he really had concerns for his Carole, he would have acted immediately, which it goes without saying, act he did. I bet the pompous ass was telling Carole within five minutes how right he had been all along, how she should have listened to him and blah blah blah, I can almost see and hear him doing it.
Then there was the cameras at the KFC drive thru - beautiful vivid colour video of me and the car. Everything was catching up and catching up fast.
I still didn't know all that and I drove blithely on toward Port Lincoln, humming some nonsense song to myself, enjoying another leg of original recipe KFC and tossing the bone out of the window just before coming around a corner to a blinding blanket of white lights. I slammed on the brakes and cursed as my still half-full bucket emptied its entire remaining contents onto the relatively clean carpet in the footwell of the passenger's seat.
A booming amplified voice echoed across the hundred metres or so to me but I was still cursing and trying to save my chicken off the floor and didn't really hear it properly. I did manage to note there was flashing blue and red strobes beyond that blinding expanse of white light but I was only thinking there had been an accident or something. If the road was blocked, I was lucky I had food, and water, to tide the time away! Then I began to recognize the words beyond the amplified distortion.
"Shaun Ellis, this is the Police. Throw your weapons out of the window and come out of the vehicle with your hands raised above your head."
I'm not sure how many times they'd repeated this message, maybe twice or three times before it even registered they were using my name. So, no accident then. That's a bugger, I thought.
"Can I finish my chicken first?" I yelled not knowing if they would hear me.
Maybe they heard, maybe they didn't because I was away again thinking of what weapons they were talking about - and I remembered the pistol. I reached over a clicked open the glove box and there she was looking so forlorn because I'd completely forgotten about her for days. My Gloch. I grasped her tenderly and drew her to my chest, then at a thought, ejected the magazine to count the rounds. It was empty. I slammed it back into the grip and shook my head. Where had all the rounds gone? I'd only fired one shot, I only needed one, my hand, left or right, I don't remember anymore, I was confused, I didn't need a gun, my hand, my arm would protect me just like it's always done. I had the KFC bucket in one hand and the pistol in the other when I jumped out of the car.
"It's empty," I yelled at the wall of light, waving both arms.
I meant the pistol was empty even though it was true of the bucket too. I can't begin to understand what they were thinking when somebody jumps from a car in the low light of dusk waving a KFC bucket and a pistol at them, yelling that's it empty. An empty pistol renders it useless unless someone is close enough to chuck it at and an empty bucket of KFC is just plain sad. Sadder still was some of the contents from the bucket still lay inside the car.
That booming voice again, so distorted I had no idea what it said this time. And how did they know my name?
I yelled again, waving my arms still, "it's empty you idiots, it's fucking empty!" And I took a step toward the lights.
The first shot that hit me didn't even register. I was looking at the pretty lights. The huge ground to sky wall of white light with the seemingly dozens of blue and red flashing strobes in the background now being pockmarked by yellow and crimson pin spots, it really was beautiful. I stepped toward them and a second and third bullet hit me. I stopped and looked down, seeing the flowers of blood staining my new shirt.
"You bastards, this is a new shirt" and I marched toward them waving the KFC bucket more emphatically in my left hand because my right arm and shoulder also took hits. The bucket became my weapon and I waved it at them like a sword as I charged, and only when it took a direct hit leaving me clutching a torn rim did I stop, falling first to my knees.
"It's empty," I told them again, and fell forward flat onto my face.
The last thing I heard was a radio. No, not the squelch and static of a police radio, a commercial radio station. Maybe it had been playing in the background before but in the silence following it became the centrepiece. It travelled across the still air as clear as, well, day, even though it wasn't.
And the song? "Oh Carol" by Smokie. Of course.
Stupid bitch. Then all those pretty lights went out.
The End
© Colin Palmer
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