(aka Lambs to the Slaughter, Part 1)
Copyright 2016, 2021 Lisa Summers
All characters depicted in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Sometimes Evil doesn't get punished.
Sometimes Evil takes over the world.
And FIT is oh, so Good at being Evil!
Chapter 1
"Please, no," the naked, middle-aged man in the back seat begged, holding his boxer shorts against his groin. "I'll give you anything you want, money...I can get you a lot of it..."
"Where, from your motel room?" the slim and pretty young brunette asked. She stood outside the open car door, the .38 she held loosely pointed at his crotch, and his boxer shorts probably weren't going to be much help if she decided to use it shoot him. She was so cute that he couldn't believe she really intended to follow through, but he also wasn't foolish enough to test his theory.
"Yeah, yes...I've got a bunch of high value stuff, watches...I'm a jewelry salesman...I carry samples. Please, I won't tell anyone, I promise. You can just leave me here, take the car...please."
"Oh, be quiet, you big baby. I'm not going to shoot you," she said, snapping her gum. For some reason, her loud gum snapping was at least the second most irritating thing about the waitress that he'd picked up. In retrospect, it had been far too easy, and only now was he realizing that it was part of her scam to steal his money and whatever else she could get away with, all the more reason to think that she wouldn't actually shoot him.
Her voice penetrated his thoughts. Her voice was kind of sweet, just a young girl who could make a lonely guy happy, and herself, too, but he guessed that would have been too easy. He could explain the loss of money and the jewelry samples to his boss, it was just a simple robbery. His wife would buy that explanation too. But getting killed, that would be a tough one to explain away, then he laughed inwardly and ruefully.
"I wouldn't give a shit, I'd be dead."
She was speaking again. "For one thing I'd have to drive your car around with your blood - and possibly your body - inside it. It just wouldn't work."
"Unless..." she continued.
"Unless?" he said.
"Yeah, I was thinking, if I had you get out and then just shot you under a tree or something, then the car would be okay. Makes sense, right?"
"Oh come on, I can get you money from my ATM, give you my samples, um, you can have my credit cards and cash, you can't afford to kill me, you'll be leaving a ton of money on the table." Appealing to her greed might be his only out, he thought.
"You're a salesman, right?" the cute girl, probably college aged, though it was getting harder for him to tell with every passing year, asked the man, shivering in the back seat of the Buick, although the night was warm in central Florida. He could feel liquid running down between his legs, maybe just sweat on this humid night, but he was afraid to check to see if perhaps he'd peed himself.
"Yes, yes I am," he responded to her question. And girls always liked getting flashy jewelry cheap, right?
He gave it a shot. "And I could get you wholesale deals on all kinds of jewelry, really beautiful stuff too-"
She interrupted him. "So every day you basically use words to make people buy stuff they don't want, right?"
"Well, I wouldn't put it like-"
She interrupted him again, looking over the roof of the car behind him. "Oh, there's my ride," she said. He could hear the sound of a car's tires running across gravel.
The cute young girl smiled at him and pointed the gun more explicitly at the crotch of the man in the back seat, then pulled the trigger three times, the sound echoing off a few trees and scaring two alligators into jumping into a canal, but were otherwise unnoticed in the area mainly dedicated to farmland and abandoned homesteads..
Well, to be clear, the shots were certainly noticed by the shivering, naked man, whose scream was cut off and who instantly went into shock and within 10 seconds was unconscious, but not yet dead.
Chapter 2
The hard-bodied woman with pink hair and prominent boobs, a few years older than the brunette behind the trigger of the .38, carefully eased the rental 2015 Buick Enclave underneath a grove of red maple trees, the central Florida humidity wrapping her like a steamy robe as she exited the car. The beeping of the key reminder annoyed her, but was soon covered by the sound of a dinged and dusty Jeep Wrangler making its way along the bumpy and overgrown track far outside the city limits of Orlando.
The two vehicles stopped adjacent to a drowned limestone quarry, surrounded by the central Florida night.
"Did you get any blood on yourself?" asked the big titted woman leaning out the window of the well used gray off-roader. Even in the sterile light from the rental car, Alice, the young brunette, could see how deeply tanned the woman was.
"No, Adalie, I did not," responded the dark-haired girl, shaking her long hair coquettishly. "This isn't my first rodeo, you know."
"I know, Alice...I know," Adalie sighed. "I'm just being careful." Her distinct Mid-Atlantic coast accent clashed completely with Alice's southern drawl, as sweet as that of any southern waitress. Which was appropriate, since Alice was in fact a waitress.
