Night Driver

by Marcelle Perks

  So what the hell was she supposed to do with Kurt? She couldn’t maintain her smiley face much longer. This had gone on longer than a john session. What people didn’t realise was how much acting and role-play sex workers had to engage in. Most of the time the sex was nothing more than an afterthought like the full stop at the end of a sentence.

  Dorcas was half-lying on the sofa, playing with a stress ball that she deftly caught in her fingers. Although she was intent on a steady rhythm of throw and catch, she could feel Kurt’s gaze as his eyes burned into her. It was hard for her not to laugh out loud. He was so repressed, he was like a thirteen-year-old with a crush on a teacher. It would be so easy; she knew exactly how to edge her way into his deepest fantasies while still being enough of a woman to not frighten him off. And maybe she’d be doing Frannie a favour. Maybe a bit of fulfilment would blunt that edge of suppressed violence in him, send him home less stressed.

  She closed her eyes. Don’t, she told herself. But it was hard. Here she was in close proximity with a man whose sexual desperation was virtually screaming at her. She just wanted something to numb the nagging noise at the back of her brain, even if only momentarily.

  Kurt seemed to be mellowing now he had a full belly. Dorcas tried a final time to reach Frannie and Elli, but only got answering machines. She couldn’t call Moonlights and risk drawing attention to herself. Better just to wait with Kurt. Get him to relax a bit. After making Frannie do this drive, she owed her that much.

  ‘So, you work on the Rastplatz, then?’ asked Kurt suddenly.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Dorcas, lighting up a cigarette. ‘And sometimes at the club – you know, lap dancing, private customers, that sort of thing.’

  She leaned closer and blew smoke provocatively in his face. His sullenness thawed and she saw the little boy in him, the smile his mother must have seen the day he was born. She was within a whisper of his soul.

  The air between them seemed to be vibrating. All it took was one lingering look and it happened. Their bodies fell together. She kissed him full on the lips and he responded with an anguished groan. She kissed him forcefully, as a man would have, taking control. Already his body was reacting. Her dress was hiked up and she turned her back to him and bent provocatively forward. His toned, dense body was trembling, that musky testosterone smell all over him. ‘Surrender, Dorothy!’ she thought, and closed her eyes.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Seven

  Frannie roared out of the Moonlights car park in third gear. She guessed Elli would raise the alarm, that the security men in their bulky black outfits would lose no time in getting in a bit of excitement and coming after her. She almost drove into the side of a car in her haste to exit the car park but managed to turn the wheel at the last minute.

  With shaking hands, she hit the turn to the Autobahn. Her hands were sweating and she badly needed a drink. There were some cars about but she ignored them. As far as she was concerned, she was the only driver that mattered tonight. This time she sped into the fast lane with glee and put her foot down as hard as she could. It was no time to be cautious.

  It was around quarter past twelve, so there were not many cars. It was the lull when most people had got to their destination, and too early for them to be coming back. It was a perfect summer night, the sky barely dark. Frannie felt mesmerised by the scary pull of the wheel which was vibrating with energy. The faster she went, the more it hummed. She stopped looking at the speedometer. Just drive straight, she thought. One false move and everything would be lost. If they caught up with her she was finished.

  Once the truck lumbered into action, Lars’s anxiety vanished. The steady, smooth acceleration of the truck eased him. His mother had always said that it was better to travel than to arrive, and my God, she was right. Motion always felt like progress.

  He turned on to the Autobahn. The section here was flat but he couldn’t see the English bitch’s Audi. You’re sure shiftin’ it tonight, honey! He laughed out loud. No matter. He knew where this road ran to, just as he knew all the roads in and out of Hannover; they were like his own arteries. He knew roughly where she lived, too – that there was only one exit she could take.

  He couldn’t push the truck as fast as Frannie was driving, but he’d played chase games with cars before. The bastards who cut him up and drove past rudely usually got a surprise. No matter how you speeded on the Autobahn, once you got to city traffic lights everything evened out. He’d be up her arse at the next red light. Or the one after it.

  He grinned, humming a tune to himself. Tonight he’d showered twice and was freshly shaven. When he finally met up with Hans, everything was going to be coming up roses again. Good ol’ Onkel Fritz still had it. He didn’t know yet how he was going to kill her, but he wasn’t going to plan it as such. All he had to do was concentrate on moving towards his target. Once he’d got her, his natural instincts would take over.

  He tried not to think about the fact that she was pregnant. That put everything into a different dimension. But he was good at staring at the road ahead and thinking of nothing but fulfilling his own desires. It was painful to acknowledge, but he badly wanted to get back with Hans again, and she was his ticket.

  In the end that was what it was all about – being a killer, being anything – it was the absolute realisation of your goal. And what he loved most of all on this fine clear night was that he practically had the road to himself. With a smile, he roared towards the B6.

  When she got off the Autobahn exit near home and saw familiar surroundings, Frannie began to relax. And, when she did, the tiredness her body had been fighting came back with a vengeance. She blinked fiercely to keep her eyes open. Her pregnancy bump was wedged up against the steering wheel and her back felt as if it was on fire. What she wanted to do most was to lie down flat. If she stopped at a red light now, she was in danger of falling asleep.

  The B6 was lit up with orange lights, but the brightness of them made her eyes run. This section was all traffic lights. And, being so tired, she was in a worse state than a drunk driver. All she wanted was to get home, hit the sack. She put her foot down recklessly on the gas. The quicker she got there, the better.

  Frannie sometimes forgot she was an inexperienced driver. When a car in front of her slowed, she nearly smacked into the back of it. She’d got used to the bland swiftness of Autobahn tempo and couldn’t get into the stop-start pace. She slammed on the brakes but had to swerve into the next lane to avoid hitting the car. The other driver hooted and drove on. Frannie braked too hard and the car stalled. And when it did her hands were so jittery she could barely turn the ignition key. Shit.

  Carefully, she eased the car into first gear and resolved to go slower. It would be stupid to have an accident on her freaking doorstep. She’d nearly made it.

  Burger King was coming up. Just a few more miles and she’d be home. As the lights hit red, she slowed. In her mirror she noticed a lorry trundling up behind her. She winced. Even before her accident she had hated anything bigger than her on the road; they were steel bullies that could barge into her. This one was driving right up her arse.

  She nudged the car forward just over the dotted line. Still the truck kept coming. She tutted. This wasn’t right. Hang on…those red and white markings, she’d seen them before, hadn’t she? As the truck closed in on her like a bad dream, it came to her.

  Jesus, it was Lars!

  She drove frantically on through the red light, almost colliding with the car coming right that she should have given way to. There was a screech of brakes and the driver savagely sounded his horn. He was probably swearing in the privacy of his car. But Frannie was long gone, with Lars in hot pursuit, his fender virtually pressed against her bumper.

  It was insane. She should turn off to go home at the next light, but she couldn’t outrun Lars now and she didn’t want to lead him back to where she lived. If she’d gone right she could have raised the alarm at Burger King, and to the left she might have made it to the police st
ation in Garbsen. But on the road ahead, the only thing waiting for her were open fields.

  His truck was just centimetres away from Frannie’s bumper. No matter how fast she drove, he kept a steady tail. He had the bitch right where he wanted her. With one push he could have shoved her car to smithereens, but there were other drivers around. He had to wait for the right moment. There was a lay-by just ahead; perhaps he could force her to stop there, take her out without damaging his own truck. Not that he had a problem pushing her off the road. In the zone he was invincible. Nothing else mattered.

  Just from the stiff way she was sitting he could tell she was terrified. They were frantically speeding and her car was shaking from side to side, as though she could barely keep hold of the wheel. On her back window the windscreen wipers were desperately swishing at the dry window. But she didn’t turn them off. She was rattled, a wild animal running blind.

  He drove closer still until both vehicles were within a whisker of touching. Still she outran him dead ahead. He laughed. She had pluck, alright. Never mind, the B6 ended temporarily just ahead. She was gonna end up crashed-up strawberry jam if she didn’t slow down.

  ‘Chasey, chasey!’ he said, shrieking with laughter. On a whim, he let her speed off ahead for a bit, to give her the illusion of escape. His face was flushed, jovial. He loved this cat-and-mouse business.

  The noise of the back window windscreen wiper scraping blithely set her teeth on edge. In this car she didn’t know how to turn them off. She was pushing the car to its maximum and had temporarily left Lars behind. His truck couldn’t go as fast as her, although this road was coming to an end soon. But her home was coming up, if only she could get out at the next lay-by and run over the bridge quickly enough. Or she could make a dash for it through the sparse traffic of the B6. He wouldn’t be expecting that.

  Because she was moving so much quicker than normal, the Rastplatz was on her before she expected. She had to brake heavily and the car spun in a skid that jerked the car out of the allotted parking spaces. With a screech of gravel, her car got wedged on the bicycle path that took you all the way to Frielingen. Her head bounced back and she felt winded. She didn’t feel like running now.

  This June had been a hot one and the long tendrils of golden corn waved high and proud in front of her. She stared at it. Perhaps there was another way. If she drove round the corner of the field and dared to drive right into the corn, her car might be hidden from view. Lars wouldn’t be able to fit his truck through the gap. He might not see the trail her car had taken. Or he’d think she’d driven round on to the road and look for her elsewhere.

  She drove quickly, without any lights, down the farm path. She hoped to God there were no late-night walkers out. She could hardly see a thing as she drove in the blackness. When she was out of sight of the road, she roughly turned the car and began to plough through the billowing strands of corn.

  It was hard work. The car shuddered on the uneven surface. All she could hear was the steady thud of corn stalks hitting her windows. Soon a fine powder had completely coated her windscreen. She didn’t dare look back, just kept going, praying to God that her desperate act would not send her up in flames. Heinrich had stressed how dangerous it was to drive through undergrowth in case the catalyser got hot and created a spark. She didn’t want to set herself and the whole field alight.

  Still she drove, until the only thing she could see in any direction was squashed stems of golden corn. They cocooned the car. Lars wouldn’t be able to drive in here. If he realised what she’d done he’d have to come on foot. She turned off the engine, slid all the windows open and just listened, every one of her senses strained for Lars’s approach.

  In the dark, she waited. Her stomach was so hard and tense she felt it might crack open. If she waited it out, she’d still have a chance to drive away if he came after her, although she could barely see over the high, waving corn.

  She tried her mobile, but there was no signal in the fields. She sat panting, her mouth dry, with the feeling that dawn was never going to come.

  Half a minute later, with a hiss of brakes, Lars’s truck rolled into the Rastplatz. His whole body was filled with tension: the anticipation, simply being in the zone, better than any drug. The whole time he was chasing someone he experienced a massive high and an almighty hard-on. Killing was his favourite sexual activity.

  But the car park was virtually empty. No sign of the bitch’s car. What the hell?

  Lars jumped frantically out of his truck, leaving the engine running. This rest stop was nothing more than a dozen parking places with a picnic table and a portable toilet. There was one other truck parked here, probably got his head down now for the night, but everything else was clear.

  His head jerked round, panicky. But he’d seen her pull into the side road with his own eyes. Perhaps the crafty cow had driven straight to Frielingen without actually stopping, which meant she’d come out near a crossroads. Why had he let her get a head start? He was dumbstruck at not finding her here, cowering in her car. Now she could be anywhere.

  He ran quickly to the edge of the path that led to the fields and sniffed the air. Nothing. Could she have taken the little field road and driven off that way? He didn’t think so. It was no place for a woman with a killer on her back. All he could see was the whispering stems of the cornfield billowing in the wind.

  He sighed. His body was so wired he was practically shaking. Now he was going to have to drive round till he found her. He supposed he could let it go: she had nothing on him really, not enough to go to the police. If she did, he’d just say he thought the traffic lights were broken and had followed her lead when she rolled on red. But Onkel Fritz didn’t just give up. There was more than one way to skin a cat.

  He jumped back in his truck and roared back on to the B6. There wasn’t much traffic, so he could see the stretch of road ahead. But there was no Audi in sight; the trail had gone cold. He rammed his fist down on the dashboard.

  The B6 ended abruptly and Lars turned left into the village of Frielingen. He drove up and down, struggling to turn his vehicle on the tight bends, but it was a dead end. He lit a cigarette and tapped his fingers on the dashboard. She must live near here somewhere. Perhaps if he just drove round in a rough circle she might double back. He’d find her parked somewhere like a frightened rabbit, trembling, with her eyes all big and her blood pulsing, ready to jump out of her veins.

  But the back roads were deserted. Lars felt incredibly visible edging round them in his truck. He was used to doing the “A” roads, riding with his foot down on the Autobahn. Not driving in a straight line felt pretty weird. The only folks who drove this road were the suckers who lived there. He was driving in a rage, becoming more exasperated with every turn on the endless deserted country road. His headache was extending from the back of his skull to his crown until the road in front of him narrowed through his maddened eyes. He stopped giving way at junctions and hogged both lanes when he took curves. A few times he stopped, turned the engine off, and rolled both windows down to listen. At night you could hear for over a kilometre. Perhaps he could track her by sound. All he got was the exotic insect sounds of the night; restless crickets. The intense movements in the darkness excited him further.

  He could sense her fear – that she was out there somewhere. But the bitch had bolted. He’d tried all the local roads, and now he didn’t know what to do. Stupid interfering cow! He started smashing his hand down on the dashboard. He couldn’t believe she had escaped him again.

  After being chased, the hardest thing was waiting. Every sense tremulous, Frannie was sitting in the trampled corn-hide of her car. Her breathing was jagged and her blue eyes darted in her pale face. Her heart was beating so hard, all she could hear was its monotonous beat. Duh duh duh. She put a hand on her chest as if it were a frightened rabbit she could soothe. Her bump felt more conspicuous than ever. The baby kicked intermittently. She was on her own and her mobile was dead. Dorcas would be going out of her m
ind by now.

  Frannie sat with all the windows rolled down, doing her best to strain all her senses for anyone coming. She was parched, but there was no water or liquid in the car. She had mown down so much corn in her frenzy to hide and now the dry powder dust was making her skin itch. The windscreen and inside of the car were covered in a fine layer of corn dust.

  She mustn’t sneeze or make any sound, though. It was important to keep still. More than anything she wanted to drink. But she could only torment herself with thoughts of refreshment in the hot and sticky dark.

  At first she’d been glad of the night because it had swallowed up the outline of the car where the corn didn’t quite cover it, but after some minutes she found the darkness weighed on her. There was a big moon tonight, but what light it offered made things worse; she gasped at the suggestive shadows it cast. Her eyes kept playing tricks with the waving corn ears dancing in the breeze. She couldn’t stop her mind from conjuring up terrifying shapes. Sometimes she fancied that the battered corn wanted to wreak its revenge on the car that had mangled it. That, if Lars didn’t come, something worse would.

  She had no clear way of seeing if Lars came on foot, but her fear of him made it feel as though he was everywhere. There was no way she could run out of this. Her only hope was that if he came after her she could drive off at the last minute. Home was only half a mile away, but she couldn’t risk getting out of the car until first light.