*Written as a challenge to myself after reading a great story by onyxx. (May/03)
*****
I should have realized it would have been a good night to stay home as the police cruisers pass by, their lights flashing, sirens wailing warning cries loud enough to wake the dead. Of course no one ever accused me of being very bright. Nope, not by a long shot and that's the way I like it. That must have been the reason why I just had to go out for that walk to see what all the commotion was about. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those busy bodies who's always up in everyone's shit but when the boys in blue drive right by your front door eighteen times in the span of one hour (and yes I did count the number of times) you tend to get a tad inquisitive. Next thing I know, I find myself rummaging through the stuff on the top shelf of my closet, grabbing the gun that I keep for "emergencies only." I don't know why I wanted to take it along. I guess better safe than sorry. I stuff it snugly into the deep pockets of my denim jacket and walk out the door, making sure to lock it on the way out. That was almost three hours ago and still the cops are buzzing around like flies on shit.
After a little detective work on my part, I dug up the cause of all the chaos. Apparently, it was the discovery of Clayton Anton's dead body. He was the son of one of the big wig executives from downtown as well as being one of the biggest, filthiest whore dogs in the entire city. Daddy was always keeping him safe from the prostitution raids he so frequently found himself caught in the middle of. Seems now that Daddy couldn't keep him safe from everything though, now does it? I should have known it had something to do with those rich, fat fucks when that much police activity was going on. After all, with all those millions, you can buy a lot of pigs.
Anyways the word on the street is that Anton was found bare assed, lying in a pool of his own blood. Did I say pool? The way I heard it described, it sounded more like the Red Sea that Moses had to part. That must have been one gory fucking sight. They say it looked like some wild animal ripped out a huge chunk of flesh from his throat. The cops found him that way after responding to his neighbour's complaints that some woman was screaming all night in his apartment. I don't know why that would be out of the ordinary. He supposedly liked the screamers... even if they did have to fake it. The prude next door only got a glimpse of the woman as she ran out of there like a scared rabbit. She caught enough to know that the fleeing woman was small framed with long black hair. Not a lot to go on but that is probably what the cops are still doing on the streets, looking for this mystery woman.
Now seeing as I never really cared for the guy anyway and I did what I had intended when I left my apartment, namely to find out exactly just what the Hell was going on, I decided to stop at the nudie bar for a couple of drinks before heading home. Being a regular customer of the Slippery Nipple (and its many lovely dancers), Tony the bartender had my black russian sitting on the counter by the time I crossed the darkened room. After exchanging pleasantries and finding out what he knew about the evening's events, he informed me that a nervous little black haired woman had been in and was asking about me. He didn't get to find out what she wanted though because she ran out when she heard the sirens of the circling cop cars. This threw me off a little. I don't mean to brag or anything but this wouldn't be the first time some hussy had asked Tony about me. Actually it happens so often we joke about it, calling him my answering service. This time however I hadn't been doing my usual flirting. There have been times when I have a few too many and forget the skanks I mess around with. Not Tony though. Tony doesn't forget and he knows everyone. He didn't know her. That was when he gave me the napkin with a name and number scrawled on it in bright red lipstick. At least it looked like a name, or maybe a place but it had been smudged into an unreadable smear. The number looked to be a time to meet.
I decided to leave after polishing off my drink, disappointing many of the dancers who were glad to see both me and my wallet walk in the door. I knew that I wanted to have my faulties all in order in case this was some psycho bitch. I headed straight for my apartment but something wasn't right. I kept getting this feeling that I was being followed. Nothing was ever there when I would take a look though I couldn't shake the sensation the fourteen blocks to the apartment. I remember thinking that I was just paranoid because the description of this woman matched the one that had fled the scene of Anton's murder. But there was no way... or was there?
When I finally arrived back home, I found my door left standing wide open making me doubt if I had locked it even though I knew deep down that I had. The sensation came over me again. That same warning mechanism that a deer gets in the moments before a wolf attacks. The knowledge that there is a predator very close by and they are the intended victim. I instinctively pull my gun from my pocket, cocked the hammer and prepared myself to sneak into my very own apartment. I crept inside as quietly as I could, ready for whatever was waiting for me. At least I thought I was ready. I couldn't have been more wrong.
I fell back towards the wall as I try to prevent a stake, yes a sharp, pointed, wooden fucking stake, from being driven into my heart. I use the wait of her momentum and twist our bodies so that her back crashes into the wall behind me. I squeeze tight enough on her wrists to make her drop the impaling weapon to the floor where it clatters noisily. I look deep into the eyes of my raven haired assailant and instead of the wild eyes of a mad woman or the cold calculations of a serial killer, there was only fear... and recognition.