Chapter X

Kate stirred in the front seat of Henry’s truck. She was uncomfortable from remaining in the same seated, upright position for hours and her head still hurt. During the daylight, she’d looked at her reflection in the truck’s rear-view mirror. Judging from the symphony of black and blue that had spread over her forehead, her head wasn’t going to stop throbbing anytime soon.
“Fuck me for being so stupid,” she thought. “How could I have knocked myself cold like that?”
She had pretended to be asleep for more than two hours before she’d actually drifted off. Now, the night was gradually getting lighter, she was wide awake and soon, she’d have to start dealing with her situation again.
Kate had no idea what to do or what to say to Henry. She’d been going over the events of the previous days repeatedly in her mind, and was no closer to any real conviction as to how to regard them … or him -- Henry -- this man she’d been traveling with.
After all, he had killed a man. Kate knew that was wrong, and that part was crystal clear to her.
But he’d also stopped that disgusting grunt from raping and killing her, and he’d kept her safe after she knocked herself unconscious back at the rest stop. He had even given her his jacket. She looked down and realized she still had it on.
“He couldn’t be bad, could he?” she thought.
Kate’s mind kept wandering back to how Henry had wrapped his arms around her when she‘d recoiled from her assailant in fear. His touch felt so nice and she wished …
She quickly snapped out of her daydream before it got far. She didn’t have time for that bullshit. Now was the time to get her head together. It was time to think.
Kate knew she couldn’t go on being silent forever. It hadn’t accomplished anything thus far, and even though she was confused about Henry, one thing was certain: As much as she hated to admit it, she owed him.
She decided that she was going to have to put her feelings about the killing aside and trust him. He’d protected her once, she just hoped that he’d do it again if it came down to that.
Kate unbuckled the seat belt and stretched her arms and legs. She looked to the back seat and saw that Henry was stirring. He opened his eyes and caught her gaze as he blinked. She turned away for a split second, but shifted her body to face him as he sat up. She felt nervous, and hid her shaking hands behind the seat.
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
“Well, it’s about fuckin’ time,” he said with a wink and a crooked smile.
Henry’s gestures put Kate more at ease. She felt her hands stop shaking and she continued.
“Look, I’m sorry that I haven’t been more cooperative. I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me so far. It’s just that … well … I don’t know exactly how to say this, but …”
“You don’t know if you can trust me because I killed that guy,” Henry interjected. Kate nodded, and Henry shifted closer to her.
“There’s no reason for you to fear me,” he said. “You haven’t done anything wrong. That child-molesting prick was worth nothing. There’s no possible way we could have taken him along, and he would have died eventually if we’d left him tied up there.”
Kate nodded again. She saw his point and mentally kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner.
“If we’d let him go, he would have found some way to hurt you,” Henry said.
“I know. I know. Can we just start over?”
Now, it was Henry who nodded.
“What are we going to do now?” Kate asked.
“Well, you were sleeping when we passed the last road sign, but we’re close to Lake Charles. We’ll get there today."
"So, I guess we’ll just go search for that cameraman, that Olaf guy, and see what we can find for supplies along the way?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Okay, why don’t we get out and walk around for a minute, and then we can be on our way.”
Kate reached for the door handle as Henry pushed the driver’s seat forward. They exited the truck from opposite sides and walked toward the tailgate.
Kate’s legs felt sore and she bent over to stretch them properly. As she grabbed her toes, she looked up to find that Henry was watching her, but she didn’t feel embarrassed this time. She wanted him to look.
Henry stretched his arms, popped the latch on the tailgate and let it fall open. He sat on the edge of the truck, and Kate walked over and sat beside him.
“So, Katherine, ready for another day?”
“It’s Kate,” she said. “Please … call me Kate.”

Chapter IX

Sixteen consecutive hours had passed since Emma Hillard had moved from the couch in her mother's living room. She hadn't eaten or slept ... she'd barely even stirred. Emma was familiar with depression, and when she got in these moods, she really didn't feel the need to do anything. She liked the dual feeling of slight delirium and total numbness that came with complete apathy. It was a way of dealing with life that she had repeated so often, it came as a second nature to her.
Emma couldn't exactly recall how many days it had been since she had left her apartment in Galveston, Texas to find a city of nothingness. At the time, she had panicked and gotten in her car to find herself weaving through Interstate 10, which was littered with empty cars, to get to Lake Charles -- her hometown, and the place where her son, Aidan, had been visiting her mother for the week.
However, her apprehension ... and her confusion ... and her fear as she navigated her Jetta through the swarm of vacant vehicles were still fresh in her mind. Not once had she dared to stop and examine anything. She was too afraid.
"Maybe everything will be okay when I get to Lake Charles," she thought. "Maybe I'll find out what's going on."
She had arrived to find the city looking just like Galveston in the sense that it was completely deserted. With tears streaming down her face, she pushed hard on the accelerator and didn’t let up until she found herself in front of her mother’s house.
It too, was completely empty.
After Emma had conducted a frenzied search around the neighborhood and come up with nothing, she had returned to her mother’s house and let her sorrow take over.
Now, all she could think of was Aidan.
Her beautiful son, Aidan. The light of her life. She’d never see him again.
A sob escaped her throat, and Emma’s body jolted with the intensity of it. She waited for it to pass and continued to lay, shuddering, on the couch. She bit on ther thumbnail and thought back to when she’d first found out about Aidan’s impending birth.
“Yes, once upon a time, I was really something,” she thought.
When Emma was 19, she was cheerful, nubile and on top of the world. She was engaged to the scion of an oil fortune, Allan Reynolds, and couldn’t have been happier. Allan was the kind of man that was strong, smart and responsible, as well as devastatingly handsome. Some nights, as she lay next to his in bed, she’d look at him sleeping and scarcely believe her good fortune.
But her fortunes ran out just as fast as Allan did when she discovered that she was pregnant.
She didn’t see him through the duration of her pregnancy. She called, she stopped by, she hoped and she prayed, but she never saw Allan. On the day of Aidan’s birth, a man in a suit came to the hospital with a bouquet of flowers, a check for $500,000 that was signed by R. James Reynolds, Allan’s father, and a note that read “You may keep the ring. - A.R.” After that, the only time Emma ever saw anybody in the Reynolds family was on the news.
That had been nine years ago. Since then, with the check from Mr. Reynolds, Emma had provided for Aidan and herself with moderate success and had fallen in and out of depression in direct correlation to when she fell in and out of love with men.
With each new beau that came and went, she felt as if she was letting Aidan down. She’d always wanted to find him a father, someone who would be as strong, smart and responsible as Allan had appeared to be. But, it seemed like the harder she tried, the more futile her efforts were. Men continued to slip through her fingers and her son was still a bastard child -- just as she’d been.
But, none of that mattered anymore. Now, Emma had no son. She had no mother, and she’d never had a father. She didn’t even know who he was.
Everyone had abandoned her.
Emma continued to sob and even though she didn’t want to, she realized she had to get up. She needed to dry her eyes and blow her nose. So, she feebly shifted her legs to the floor, slowly stood up and walked to the bathroom.
After she’d finished, Emma started to walk back to the couch. She didn’t know what she was going to do. After all, what was the point of life now that there was absolutely nobody else?
“Maybe I’ll die or disappear or whatever the hell else happened,” she thought bitterly.
And then, she stopped short, stopped breathing for a moment. Voices -- there were people outside. She moved quickly, too quickly, and crashed to the hardwood floor. She immediately paused, and held her position on the floor.
There were definitely people out there. Emma didn’t know whether to be afraid or ecstatic, but either way, she’d just stay put for now.
“I tell you fath … um … Sebastian. I heard someone in there,” Olaf said.
Sebastian looked toward the doorway with skepticism. He’d heard the crash from inside the house, but that didn’t mean that someONE was inside. It meant someTHING was inside, and if it was some kind of animal, they needed to be prepared.
“There’s someone in there. What are we going to do?” Olaf asked.
“We’re definitely going in that house,” Sebastian said. He went to the side of the house and picked up a heavy shovel that was leaning against it. He picked it up and turned back to Olaf.
“But we’re not going in without weapons.”

Chapter VIII

The sun was sinking, and Henry found himself wriggling into the backseat of his truck for the second night in a row.
The evening was so perfectly still that he thought he was surely losing his mind. The whole day, there’d been nothing but silence - long, awkward silences. The woman … Katherine, she’d said … hadn’t so much as muttered a single word since they left the rest stop. He’d tried to strike up a conversation with her several times, but she’d been completely unresponsive. His attempts were met with disregard had done nothing but stare out the passenger window. At a few intervals, Henry had glanced at her and seen tears sliding down her cheeks, silent - but very real.
Now, she was sleeping. She’d nodded off about an hour ago in the front seat, still held by her seat belt, which left Henry with no choice but to take the back again.
He stopped and thought about how many times this woman, in the few hours he’d known of her existence, had left him in situations with only one possible choice.
Henry wanted to be angry with her. In fact, he wanted to be furious with her, and he was working hard at talking himself into it.
“Who the fuck does she think she is?“ Henry thought to himself. “Why does she think that she has the right to judge me?“
After all, that fucker back at the rest stop wanted to rape her, kill her … and he’d probably have made sure she screamed the entire time. She’d have ended up just like the girl that she’d told him about, the one she found on the side of the road. Henry had saved her from that fate, and here she was - upset with him for doing what he clearly had to do.
What the fuck was her problem? Didn’t she understand?
He didn’t feel guilty, and he’d relished every moment of delivering justice to the sick, twisted prick. God, how he hated men of that ilk. And now that there was nobody looking over his shoulder, nobody to constantly harass him about what he should and should not do, he could deal with scum in the manner that he’d like.
He wanted to curse her for being an ungrateful bitch and throw her ass out. She certainly wouldn’t last very long fending for herself, seeing as how well she‘d done so far. But, even though his fury stuck with him, Henry still couldn’t make himself hate her - because even though he disagreed with it completely, he could see her point.
He wondered if he should, perhaps, feel guilty.
A soft moan escaped Kate’s lips as she slept, and Henry propped himself up to look at her. Her tangled, dark brown hair fell in long tresses along his jacket, which she was still wearing and had wrapped tightly around herself. Even though her forehead was badly bruised and her bloody knees were visible beneath her torn jeans, there was something about her that he found lovely. There was something there that drew him.
He could see her chest move slightly with the rhythm of her soft breathing. She’d looked exactly this way after she’d knocked herself unconscious, and again, Henry was tempted to touch her.
He immediately shook the thought out of his head.
After all, he was better than that piece of shit Harry Long. He chalked his thoughts up to the fact that he hadn’t seen any other people in what was going on a week now. She was the first woman he‘d encountered since the disappearances, and that was the extent of it.
“She’s just someone I ran into, nothing more,” he told himself.
But, despite what they thought of each other, they were stuck together now. They’d have to work together, and she’d have to be more responsive.
With any luck, she’d be in more of a mood to talk tomorrow. Maybe she’d have some idea of what their course of action should be once they reached Lake Charles. Henry had no idea what they’d find there, but he wasn’t afraid.
He wondered if she was … he wondered if she was afraid of him.
“Oh well, I’ll deal with it tomorrow,” he thought.
As he tried to make himself comfortable, Henry knew he wouldn’t be getting to sleep easily. He was uncomfortable, that was for damn sure. But something else was bothering him.
What if this woman … Katherine … hated him for what he’d done?
Henry wasn’t sure what bothered him more - the fact that it was a distinct possibility that he‘d earned her ire, or the fact that he cared.

Chapter VII

Kate awoke with a pounding headache. The sunlight pounded her eyes, so she opted to keep them shut and collect her thoughts. That’s when she remembered the man who had attacked her and proceeded to chase her for over two miles. Her eyes flew open and panic wracked her nerves instantly.
She looked around and found herself in a truck.
“What the fuck is going on?” she thought as she examined her situation.
She looked out the window and saw that she was at a rest stop somewhere. She saw that a seat belt was holding her in place and jumped when she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that there was a man sleeping in the back seat. She screamed, thinking of the events that had taken place, and the man shot up. As she struggled to undo her seat belt, his hands clasped securely around her mouth.
“Stop!” he yelled at her as she continued to struggle. Her mind raced with panic, and stopping was the absolute last thing she was going to do. She bit hard into his hand, which caused him to yelp in surprise and retract the digit, which had begun to bleed.
Kate freed herself from the seat belt and opened the door, taking off at a dead run. The man bolted after her and proved to be much quicker than she remembered from the night before. She didn’t get very far from the truck when she felt her feet being kicked out from under her. A cloud of dust billowed into her face as she hit the ground, and the man straddled her back and forced her flailing arms down.
“So, this is how I’m going to die,” she thought. Her mind wandered back to the book on her lap a few days ago.
“Suicide”
Even though she’d wished for death, hoped for it, prayed for it … now, in this moment, she didn’t want to go. Not here, not like this.
She could feel his hot breath on her ear as he said something to her. Her mind was racing too fast for her to comprehend his words, and she continued to struggle with everything she had left.
Then, a firm slap to the back of her head dazed her enough to make her go limp, but not unconscious. Her mind swirled as she lay there. She braced herself as best she could, expecting to feel his hands start tearing the clothes from her body. But they did not, and she wondered what he was going to do.
“Look, bitch, I’ve had a bad fucking night, and I don’t need your shit right now,” he said with such a command in his voice that she was captured, unable to fight back. He continued.
“Now, if I let you up, will you please not try and run again? Wait … No. Better yet, if you try to run again, you’re just going to really piss me off, and you don’t want that, okay?”
Kate nodded her head, and felt the pressure on her back lessen. She rolled over and looked at the man kneeling over her. Her first impulse was to kick him in the balls and take off, but she noticed something different about the man. Something very different, indeed. He was tall, he was handsome. This wasn’t the man who was chasing her last night.
“Who are you?” she asked him.
“My name is Henry. Henry Burns.”
“Alright … what are you doing here?”
“I saved your ass last night.”
Kate paused. She didn’t want to remember last night, but she did wonder how exactly he’d saved her. Before she could start again, he was questioning her.
“Now, who are you?” he said, staring right at her exposed left breast. She followed his gaze to his subject of interest, flushed and quickly pulled the remainder of her blouse over herself.
“Stop looking at that, you fucking pervert!” she shrieked. The fact that he blushed and turned away relieved her. She knew, undeniably, that this was not the same man from last night.
Henry rose to his feet, and bent to pull Kate to hers. As she dusted herself off, he took off his jacket and offered it toward her.
“Thanks,” was all she could think of to offer back as she gingerly accepted the jacket. “My name is Katherine. Now, do you mind explaining what is going on here?”
“I’d like to know that myself,” he replied.
Henry steadied Kate as they walked and recounted the event from the night before to her, emphasizing his “strategic” attack on the man that was chasing her. As he finished, she looked up into his face and saw the same look she‘d seen on the faces of countless cops and ex-boyfriends - conceit. She secretly cursed the fact that, thus far, the only people she’d run into were a rapist/murderer and a self-absorbed prick.
“So, pretty lady,” he continued, “what brings you here?”
Kate could tell that he was trying to be friendly with the remark, and though she thought it was cheesy, it did help to ease her nerves.
“I saw a news report over CNN by a man in Lake Charles, and seeing how there’s been no one else around, I figured it was in my best interest to try to make contact with him. Speaking of which, where is everyone?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea. I was hoping maybe you knew something about it, because you and ape-man over there are the only two people I’ve actually come across since seeing the same newscast.”
At the mention of the “ape-man,” Kate followed Henry’s pointing finger towards a ridiculous looking figure lying on the ground with his hands and feet tied together behind his back. When she caught a glimpse of the rage in his eyes, she immediately recognized him as the man that had chased her for so long last night. Instinctively, she backed into Henry’s arms, which she was surprised to find wrapped around her.
She was even more surprised to find that she felt safe, comfortable in them. She didn’t exactly know what to think of this man, but there was something about him …
Kate removed herself from his embrace and blushed as looked him in the eyes. She had always hated people thinking of her as a damsel in distress, and here she was, practically fainting into this man‘s arms. She quickly composed herself.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said apologetically.
“I don’t mind, and don’t worry about it,” he said smiling. “He’s not going any where. I’m pretty good with knots and those are as secure as they’ll get.”
“Hey, asshole, you mind letting me up? My back’s fucking killing me since you left me like this all night, you prick!” the man said with unhidden animosity.
“Sure thing, buddy, just as soon as I start working on being retarded,” Henry replied.
Kate giggled, although it was a nervous one. Henry turned back to her, and guided her away from the truck until the man’s furious curses were nothing but high-volume gibberish.
“Who the hell is that guy? Why was he chasing you last night?” Henry asked.
Kate hesitated a moment. She took a deep breath and thought about how her head was killing her. She looked up at Henry, and decided to go ahead and answer him. After all, he had saved her from the same fate as the girl in the car. She owed him the truth.
She told him everything that had happened, from the point of her finding the girl‘s body. She explained that as she was leaving the scene the man grabbed her from behind and started fondling her and tearing at her blouse. In the struggle, she had managed to get away from him, but he didn’t give up and chased her to the rest stop.
Kate wasn’t sure if she should tell him about what the man had done to the dead girl, but she’d already gone this far. She told him about what the body had looked like, what it meant and how her assailant had referred to it as “his art” as he harshly spoke into her ear. As Kate continued, she noticed a shadow pass over Henry’s face. She really didn’t want to ask what they should do next, but she had to know.
“Well, Mr. Burns, what are we going to do with him?”
“It’s Henry … and I’m going to kill the twisted prick,” he said.
This startled Kate and before she could realize what she was saying, the words were out of her mouth. She had already told him no.
Henry stopped in midstride as he walked toward Long, turned to her and ask, “What? You want me to let him go?”
She took a step back at the thought of the man up and moving again. She thought of how those dirty hands had maliciously passed over her body and quickly shook her head.
“No, of course not. But we can’t just kill him, it’s wrong.”
Henry looked her in the eyes and walked back toward her. Under his gaze, Kate felt as if she might turn to stone.
“I … I don’t think I could be a part of that,” she stammered. “I … um … I … I won’t do it.”
Henry gestured toward the vehicle as he responded in a horribly cold tone:
“Then, get in the truck and don’t watch.”
She watched as Henry took her assailant by the rope connecting his hands and feet and dragged him behind the restrooms. Her breath caught in her throat as she heard Henry’s words proclaiming his abhorrence towards child molesters.
Then, there was the sound of a fist connecting squarely with a head.
Again.
And again.
When the sounds turned to a soft, wet, sucking noise she decided to take his advice and wait in the truck.

Chapter VI

Sebastian awoke the next morning at home and thought about what to do with his day. Usually, he’d start preparing for his sermon, but there would be no one attending church that morning. He rose out of bed and sauntered across the room to get dressed, walking to his closet and grabbing his priestly attire out of habit. He stared at it for a moment and replaced it.
"I guess there’s really no need for it today,” he thought. He replaced the garments in his closet, and looked at them feeling sad, but also relieved. The relief struck him as odd and when he thought about it, he realized just how much of a burden for him it was to wake every morning and tend to his “flock.” This recognition shook him to the core, right to the very heart of his religious values. He found the urge within himself to say that it was the Devil tempting him, trying to turn him away from God.
The disappearance of most of the human race weighed heavily on the priest, and he desperately wanted to turn to a higher power for answers. Throughout the course of his years as a clergyman, though, he had seen many prayers - both of his parishioners and of his own go unanswered. For the first time in a long time, he felt decidedly shaky in his convictions about God.
He realized that he wouldn’t need his frock for some time now, maybe not ever again. Suddenly, he couldn’t bear to look at his ceremonial garb and turned away from his closet, staring out the window. He didn’t know what to think or how to feel, but he couldn’t help but single out a meandering thought:
“What if Olaf was right? Are we truly alone?”
Sebastian shook the thought from his head, headed back to his closet and reached for his civilian clothes. He donned a pair of tan cargo pants and a long sleeve navy blue shirt. It was casual and fashionable, one of the vices that he allowed himself. His acquaintances seemed to always be poking fun at him for this, saying he was too old to be “hip” now. He was saddened by the thought of them not being around any more to do so now.
He went to his front door and opened it, finding Olaf in mid-knock as he did so. Startling the pudgy fellow brought a good-hearted chuckle from the priest.
“Good morning, my friend,” he said with a laugh.
Olaf regained his composure and smiled, albeit with a red tint to his cheeks. “Hey, Father,” came the reply.
Sebastian thought for a second about his actions earlier, and responded to him with, “Please, Olaf, you don’t have to call me that. Sebastian is fine enough.” The words felt strange as they escaped. He‘d never before refused his title.
“So what’s on the agenda today, Fath...? Erm… Sebastian?”
Sebastian thought about this for a moment. What was there to do? He looked around his yard and down the street. Of course, there was nothing but empty cars and houses. Empty - just like how he felt.
However, he wasn’t going to let Olaf in on how he felt. He needed to be strong for the both of them. He was a soldier, just like always. In the steadiest voice he could muster, he answered Olaf’s question.
“I say we do a little bit of shopping today.”
“Shopping?” replied the confused fat man. “What are you talking about?”
Sebastian gave him a wry grin. “Well, it occurred to me that there is not really any need for us to hold back any more - when it comes to our well being, that is - so, I think we should see what we can gather from our neighbors. There’s no need to feel ashamed about it now.”
Olaf looked like the proverbial deer in the headlights, so shocked was his stare. Sebastian had some idea that what he’d said would be shocking, but he had grossly underestimated its full effect. He was pretty sure he knew what Olaf was thinking, and he imagined it was something along the lines of: “What has gotten into the priest? I’d never have thought that I’d hear the man say anything of that nature. He’s quite possibly the personification of good.”
But Sebastian also knew that he had a good point. Olaf would not disagree with him - not about this.
“I guess you’re right. So which place are we hitting first?” Olaf asked.
“The army surplus is the best bet. The MREs have come along way since I was in the military, and they actually taste pretty good now.” What Sebastian also wanted to look for, but didn’t vocalize, was his desire to find a weapon or two as well. He had a feeling they might need some protection now, and he‘d be damned if he went without a fight.
“Good idea, sir. I like the way you think, and you know I can’t pass up a good meal!” exclaimed Olaf, who forgot about his apprehensions regarding his friend as soon as food was mentioned.

Chapter V

Henry found himself in Podunk, Texas, right near the boarder of Louisiana. He had no idea what the town’s actual name was. It was a fruit of some sort, apple or orange. He pulled his truck off the interstate when he spotted a rest area to his left. He pulled into the area, shut off his truck and stepped out into the relative darkness.
Henry stretched his back and took a look around.
“What the fuck kind of hillbilly lives in a place like this?” Henry asked aloud.
He saw a soda machine still lit up, which surprised him immensely, and it was located right next to a restroom.
“Good, two birds with one stone,” he thought.
He walked up to the vending machine and pulled out his wallet. As he drew forth a single from it, he stopped short. With a wry grin he replaced his wallet to his back pocket. “I got to piss something fierce, but when I get back, me and you are going to have a little chat about all those times you took my money,” he said to the machine, which, to his chagrin, didn’t show any fear.
Henry finished washing his hands in the filthy sink, dried them and began to walk outside. A noise caught his attention before he could break the barrier that led into to open air. It was a woman, screaming it seemed. He stopped short from fully walking outside and opted to peek his head out in the direction of the noise.
“Shit,” he thought. “I can’t see … it’s too dark.”
He looked towards the areas where there still were lights, but they were each about forty yards apart. Suddenly, like a moth to a flame, the woman he’d heard rushed under one of the lights, revealing herself briefly. The first thing that crossed Henry’s mind was how stunning she was, even if part of her blouse was torn and both knees were bloodied.
“Damn it, there goes my ADD again… And I’m a sick bastard.” He inwardly smiled.
A matter of seconds later, a man with a feral look to his face came bursting into the light. Maybe it was the beard he wore, or the fact that he was a hairy son of a bitch and didn’t have on a shirt, but he looked like a coyote hunting after a sheep.
Henry thought for a second about whether to help the woman, because the feral man seemed rather large to him. After all, he hadn’t seen another person in a couple of days, and he really had no idea what was going on.
At that moment, the woman eyed the restrooms and darted for them.
“Shit, guess I don’t have much choice now,” he thought.
Henry realized the woman’s intention as he stared. She was trying to barricade herself. He froze for only a moment and then blended into the shadow that was cast near the opening.
The woman came rushing in at full speed, missing Henry in the process, but crashing hard into the divider that was right on the other side of the entrance. She was out; there was no second guessing the sound of that impact.
As Feral came rushing toward the door, Henry knew he had to act swiftly. At the moment the man crossed the threshold, Henry was waiting. He shaped his right hand into a backwards L with his thumb and first finger perpendicular. As the man charged toward the entrance, Henry shot toward him with horrible speed, turned his own head to the left side of the man’s body. and let momentum do the rest. The feral man’s jugular came into contact with the angle created by Henry’s hand, and his wind pipe was crushed as he flipped backwards.
Henry stood over both bodies, now lying on the floor of the revolting restroom, the man gasping for air that would only trickle in. He admired his handy work.
With a smug smile, he looked at the man and said, “Henry Burns, nice to meet you.”
Henry pulled out a forgotten pocket knife that was clamped on his pocket, walked to the vending machine and unplugged it. “You’re getting off easy this time, but I’ll be back… Promise.”
He reached for the unplugged cord, cut it and went back to the prone man who was slowly beginning to catch his breath. With a swift kick in the face from Henry’s heel he, too, was unconscious.
Henry rolled the man on his stomach and hog-tied him. He figured that, of course, he could have just tied the man’s hands behind his back, but where was the fun in that? At least this was humiliating.
He walked to the unconscious woman next and searched her body, but found no form of identification on her. He figured she must have dropped her purse in the pursuit. Henry paused a moment and took stock of the woman, lying helpless at his feet. An evil thought passed through his mind, bolstered by the fact that there weren’t any more authority figures. He reached down, looking at the tear in her blouse where it exposed part of her breast. He moved it aside and could see that they were beautiful, firm-looking. He reached for her left breast, then withdrew his had immediately.
He looked at the man laying unconscious and hog-tied not six feet from where he stood. “After the same thing, weren’t you?” he asked the man. His question went unanswered by the man on the floor, but the question brought many more into the mind of Henry Burns.
“Okay, I know I’m a piece of shit, but God help me if I’m going to get that low,” he thought.
Henry recovered his wits and lifted the woman in his arms. Her head slumped against his shoulder as he carried her to his truck. He laid her inside and removed the keys. One could never be too careful.
Turning back toward the restroom, Henry felt his mind racing. There were so many questions … none of them with answers. He returned to the man and noticed a bulge in his back pocket. “There we go,” Henry said in surprise. He removed the man’s wallet and flipped through it. No money, of course, but who needed it now?
The wallet was pretty much empty … a couple of tattered business cards … an expired condom that was about four years old. Henry couldn’t help but laugh when he thought about just how horny this poor bastard must have been.
“There it is.” he thought, identification.
Harry Long of Osceola, Wisconsin was a very long way from home. Henry shoved the ID into his pocket and proceeded to do the difficult task of dragging the heavy man next to his truck.
“When the girl wakes up, it’s time for some answers.”

Chapter IV

It had only been six hours and about 400 miles since Kate had left home, but she made relatively good time.
That is, of course, until she ran out of gas. In her hurry to leave for Lake Charles, Kate failed to remember that gas stations were pretty much useless. She had pushed her Accord to its breaking point, and it had given out on her for good.
“Damn it, Kate!” she yelled out as she struck her fist against the dashboard, which was quickly followed by a sharp jolt of pain. She cried out and looked down at her hand. She’d let her frustration get the better of her again. Already, the knuckles were starting to swell.
“Great, just great,” she thought to herself as she rubbed her stinging hand.
She slumped down into the driver’s seat and stared out the window. More thoughts of suicide slipped through her mind and were quickly replaced by the urge to make contact with Olaf.
She grabbed her purse, took out the page torn from the atlas and began to mark where she was. It didn’t take her long to mark her spot on the map as “lost and fucked.”
Kate got out of the car and looked down the lonely highway. She stretched her arms, walked to the back of the car, popped the trunk and laughed at herself as she looked at the piles of luggage she had stuffed into her tiny vehicle.
“God, I am such a typical woman. Why the hell did I bring all of this? …”
She did a mental inventory of what exactly was in the suitcases and totes. Figuring that she should at least have some clothes on her journey, she pulled out her rolling suitcase and set it next to the car. She glanced at where it had been: lying next to her makeup bag. Another laugh escaped her. She really didn’t have a good reason as to why, but she shoved the bag into a nearby tote that was filled with food.
“At least I’ll look good for old Olaf,” she thought as she chuckled to herself.
At this, she paused and truly contemplated the seriousness of the “…if you were the last man on Earth” statement. God, she thought, I hope it doesn’t come down to that.
Kate knew what she was going to have to do. But she was exhausted, and - for now - she wasn’t going anywhere. She would spend the night in the Accord, and tomorrow, she’d resume her journey - on foot.
Thirteen hours later, road weary and drained from carrying so much for so many miles, or so she thought, Kate was praying that she would find some type of vehicle that might still be functional. She’d passed only two cars since she had to leave her car behind. Both were in some state of disarray: one with two flat tires and the other without gas. As she approached the next vehicle on her way, she had given up hope for something that would work in her favor. She actually started wondering just what would be in store for her this time.
The steering wheel is probably missing, or some other crap like that, she thought.
As she approached the vehicle, a Honda Civic, the first thing she noticed was the smell of rancid meat. She kept going forward, very cautiously, she noticed bloodied hand prints on the inside of the back window.
Kate stopped cold in her tracks. She’d seen this before, many times, in fact. She was a crime reporter, and her work had been her life. There was no scene she wouldn't visit, no cop she wouldn't sass. Most times, she could get close enough - be it by hard-nosed insistence or fluttering eyelashes - to get what she needed for her stories. Kate had always felt that the social obligation of the media was to deliver the truth, and if the truth was gruesome, so be it.
Truth was her job. She'd been damn good at it.
This time, though, the situation was different. It was here, now and right in her face. It was mocking her for being able to write with a steady hand a closed heart when it involved someone else but being so frightened that she wasn't even able to scream when she was actually involved. After a moment that seemed like time had perpetually stopped, everything rushed in at her in full speed to make up for the delay. All the thoughts that were in her head tore to the surface like a tsunami, when a second ago they were but a slow drip.
She let go and screamed for all she was worth.
But, yet, she still couldn’t move, she couldn’t bear to take her eyes away from the horrible imagery. Slowly, very slowly, Kate started walking to the door, afraid to open it and just as scared to leave it there. She stopped again before she reached to point of no return: the point in which she would actually be able to see what lies in the vehicle.
She collected herself and thought about how many different murder scenes she’d been at; and how often she had been at the morgue after the police made her leave, looking at the bodies and talking to the coroner about the cause of death.
She forced herself to forget that each of those times officers had been present. Even though they had usually been uncooperative assholes, their presence always lended an air of calm and protection - something Kate desperately needed.
Steeling herself, she took another step, looked inside the window and shuddered.
Inside the car was a young girl, maybe no more than fifteen. She was completely nude and bruised all over, especially around her pelvic bone and chest, and her face was so black and blue that the features appeared to collide. Nevertheless, Kate's experience in dealing with corpses led her to believe that this girl was once beautiful. And also due to her expertise in situations of this sort, she knew that this was a murder-rape.
Kate fell to her knees because she could not hold herself up any more, but she was glad of the fact because it took away the horrible imagine inside the car. She let the tears of frustration and fear come to her. This girl was the only other person she'd seen in the flesh in days, and she was dead.
Then, a thought struck her, a curious one that came unbidden: She remembered a time when she was covering a story similar to this; another murder-rape of a juvenile. She had spoken with a psychiatrist about the behavior patterns of pedophiles, rapist, and murders, and there was one thing from that conversation that vividly stuck out in her mind.
“The person in question rarely leaves the scene of the crime for too long, especially if they feel they have no fear in returning,” the shrink had told her.
Kate bolted up, and looked around nervously. It hit her just then that it was past dusk and there was very little time left with the progressively more precious sunlight. She hadn't realized how long she'd been there, but she knew that it'd been too long. She started to gather up her things then and began walking hurriedly in the opposite direction from where she had come. She needed to find shelter of some sort, and she needed to find it fast.
Harry Long watched her walk away from his art. With a content smirk, he decided to hang back far enough that, with the dim light, she wouldn’t be able to see him. He preferred his women to be sixteen and younger, but with the apparent lack of choice that had just recently taken place, he thought that he could make an exception at least once. He too, made his way easy on Interstate 10.