Cary sighed and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
 
“Problem?” Natalie asked from the passenger seat.
 
He looked at her, his eyes roamed from her own eyes down to the very low cut of her blouse and the ample treasure buried beneath.
 
“Problem?” she repeated, after clearing her throat sharply.
 
 “Um, no.” He looked at the console behind the steering wheel. “Well, yeah, but… I don’t know.”
 
Natalie raised a slender eyebrow.
 
“We’re out of gas.”
 
Natalie sighed and glanced out the window. They were stopped on the Blue Ridge Parkway, a road maintained for lovers of nature peppered with scenic views, hiking trails and long stretches of absolutely nothing. This was one of those stretches. On one side of the road ran a thick wood and on the other a cow pasture.
 
“Isn’t it more traditional to ‘run out of gas’ in someplace with a better view?” Natalie asked.
 
“No, we’re actually out of gas,” Cary sighed. “I don’t know what could have happened, I filled up before we…” Cary’s voice trailed off. He’d spotted a glint of light in the rear view and was trying to find it again.

Maybe it had been a headlight.
 
Natalie grabbed the mirror and wrenched it away from him. Cary turned to see her staring at herself with lipstick in hand. She noticed him watching and said, “So, shouldn’t you look under the hood or something?”
 
“For what?”
 
Natalie shrugged. “You said you filled up, maybe your gage is wrong. It can’t hurt to look.”
 
Cary sighed, reached beneath the dash and released the hood. “I guess not.”
 
He stepped slowly out of the car and stood tapping the roof for a moment wondering if what was under the blouse was worth going under the hood.
 
The light glinted again to his right. He turned quickly and stared into the dark. It definitely hadn’t been a headlight. It could have been a flashlight though. The moon was bright enough to see pretty well but if someone needed to look at something specific, say a cattle farmer checking on his herd, he might shine his light intermittingly at the pasture.
 
“Hello?” Cary yelled, wincing at the hollow sound of his voice in the empty night. He listened for a response but none came.
 
“Hello?” he repeated.
 
This time he was answered by footfalls which seemed to be picking up speed.
 
He stood motionless as the shape of a man emerged running from the shadows.
 
“Hey,” Cary said, walking quickly toward the approaching man. “Look, it’s okay, we’re not cattle rustlers or anything…”
 
He faltered as the light glinted once more and, though he really hadn’t gotten a better look, somehow Cary knew it for what it was; the malevolent gleam of a moon beam on the blade of a knife.
 
“Oh my God,” Cary whispered. With all his might he pulled in his next breath and then his body shut down. He’d always wondered how he’d deal with a situation like this; would he be heroic or diplomatic, would he fight the attacker or charm him into submission. He never really considered paralysis as an option.
 
The man was nearly on top of him now and at last his rigor mortis broke allowing him to do what he needed to do.
 
He dropped into a ball and whimpered.
 
The footsteps hammered the road as they came ever closer to where he lay in a heap and hammered a little less as they receded from him.
 
A tapping sound brought Cary back to his senses and he turned to see the man standing next to his passenger door, chipping away at the window with his knife.
 
“My car!” Cary yelled before he could stop himself. He winced and yelled even louder for her benefit, “Natalie!”
 
Cary took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, and shook his head. He opened them and focused on the figure who had just broken through his window.
 
“I swear to God, if I make it through this she’d better put out,” he said out loud.
 
He ran toward the man and grabbed him in a bear hug. The man was much smaller than Cary had expected, at least a few inches shorter than Cary’s own 5’10 and very thin.
 
Cary had been expecting a monster and he rammed him with the force he’d assumed a monster would require. As a result, the small man was completely overtaken and the two of them tumbled to the ground, rolling to a stop only when the man’s head struck a fence post with a sickening thunk.
 
“Oh my God,” Cary whispered.
 
The man lay motionless beneath him, his eyes two black marbles staring at nothing.
 
“Hey, hey!” Cary shouted at him as he shook him by the lapels of the black coat he was wearing. The man did not respond but something white fell from his jacket pocket.
 
Cary picked it up and studied it. It was an envelope addressed To Whom It May Concern. “I think I qualify,” Cary said.
 
A small hand pulled hard on his shoulder and threw him to the ground. He heard Natalie say, “There’s no need for you to read that. I’m sure it just says that he’s killed himself after having killed me. People tend to want to do that to those who kill their entire family.”
 
Cary stared up at the woman who he’d bought Lobster Thermidor for only an hour ago in the hopes of getting into her pants. “Why would you kill his whole family?”
 
“Oh, I imagine that’s a question a lot of books are going to be written about one day,” Natalie said with a chuckle.
 
She sliced his neck quickly and efficiently. It seemed wrong to give him a slow and painful death. After all, he did buy her lobster.
 
_____________________

© 2010 R. A. Hunter   

R. A. Hunter is an active member of WEbook and a founding member of The Ink Slingers. His story Lunch Date was recently published in The House of Horror e-zine. He has sung 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall all of the way through to the end.  For more info see him here: www.r-a-hunter.com

Felicity was shelving her books when Sam cut through the retail fog and stepped into her aisle. A shot burst through her heart, cupid had finally decided to give her a chance at love. Felicity thought he would have seen the delicious pain on her face, his slight smile told her she was mistaken.

“C-can I h-help you?” she asked as clumsy words tripped over her lips.

“No thanks.” he muttered.

The ”thanks” caught her attention -  often customers were not polite. He was different.
“O-okay…” she bit her lip, “My name is Felicity, in case you need anything else.”

He replied with a nod. Usually, she would go to a different section as to not disturb the customer, but today she wanted this one to notice her. Her heart fluttered when he picked up Tales of Ordinary Madness, the same book she was reading.

Distracted by coincidence, she tripped over the cart sending books cascading over the floor.
Felicity could feel him watching, heat speckled her cheeks as she ducked to pick the mess up. He knelt down, and she watched his strong hands work to help. Felicity knew he was the one she had been waiting for.

“I didn’t get you, did I?” she asked.

He shook his head no, and stood. Felicity waited to see if he would help her up. Then she realized that was asking too much. He’d gone above and beyond, for that she forgave him for not offering his hand. It was almost the perfect moment. With a little work, he could be trained to do it right.

“Thanks for helping…”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you around.” He said, stuffing his hands into his pockets (a nervous fidget from their budding romance?) and walked out.

I’ll see you around…his words vibrated through Felicity.

Felicity saw him almost every day. She learned his name, Samuel Millner Jr, from his credit card.

Their fingers brushed against one another that time, charging her skin with an electric tingle.
She memorized Sam’s movements. His ticks and twitches spoke to her, though they never exchanged more than customary pleasantries. Felicity felt the unspoken romance between them and bound herself to make a life with Sam.
One evening, as she was leaving, so was he. They walked through the vestibule together, Felicity saw her chance. She turned through the snowy depths of the blustering weather, ready to make her move, when she saw Sam slip on a patch of ice.
Fear for her love raced through her as his head knocked onto the pavement. She flew towards him.

“Are you okay?”

“Um…”

“We should get you to a hospital.” she said, helping him up.

“Ah, no, I’m alright.”

His obvious pain seared through Felicity’s heart.

“Company policy. If a customer gets hurt on our property, they must get checked out for further injuries.”

“I’m okay. Just a bump.” he said.

His stubbornness made her heart swell with musings to break the trait out of him.

“At least let me drive you home.” She pulled him towards her car, letting his argumentative words fall from her ears. She had to take care of him. Felicity shoved Sam into the passenger seat and started to buckle him in.

“I’m fine. Let me out.” He said struggling against her attempts.

“Enough.” Felicity didn’t want to hear anymore, his protests were taking away from her bliss. She pulled a doused cloth from her purse, and slapped it over his mouth. Sam coughed while grasping her arm for release. But her resolve was steel and soon, he was out.

Felicity climbed into the seat and drove home.

***
Tonight Felicity was going to make a special dinner. It had to be perfect. She had always heard “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” and she intended to make it happen.
An intense pain sliced through her as the knife slit the meat of her forearm. Crimson liquid seeped and trickled into the cruet with the speed of a turtle.

After weeks of glares and moans, Felicity saw a new spark of life. There was something interesting about the way Sam had looked at her yesterday. It told her, his opposition was fading. She knew by keeping his gag clean and sanitizing the friction burns on his wrists, he would come around.

Sam was hers now; his adoration would follow.

Her blood inside of him would seal their eternal love.

Anxiety coiled around her heart, Felicity bit her lip and squeezed at her flesh to expedite draining. Excitement flooded her body as she poured her love into the clear container.

Once the cruet was full, Felicity prepared the rest of the meal. She placed the salad on the tray, tilted the cruet and sprinkled it with her special dressing. She then moved the carafe over the raw slab of steak and rubbed her love into it, before placing it next to the salad. She plucked a white rose from a bouquet on her table and smeared crimson around the petal lips.
Felicity took the tray and unlocked the basement door, sliding each bolt open at a slow pace to steady her tittering fervor.

“It’s time for dinner,” she sang. Sam’s muffled, anguished cries tickled her as she descended merrily down the stairs.

_______________________

© 2010 K.M. McElhinny