by Various
Why the feeling of deep foreboding, of doom and gloom?
Phillips shook himself in the cramped driver's seat of the unmarked car. Pulling a double-shift tonight was not something he had been looking forward to. Yet, he felt a need to be closer to Cupid this year than ever before. Felt it deep inside. Call it a cop's intuition but Phillips just had the damnedest feeling that tonight was going to be different.
It was a cold February evening and the car stank of stale cigarette smoke and the cheap cologne he still got from his kids each Christmas. His small apartment across town was dark and lifeless, had been for the past three years, ever since the ugly divorce. He wasn't about to sit there on his couch watching any of those annoying romantic Valentine's Day movies on the tube. Besides, Cupid Montgomery was only working a five-hour shift tonight.
Five hours. Not too long to sit here and wait for his Cupid to leave the mall and drive back home to her plush apartment in the Hill-Court Estates. Paid for by her rich daddy, of course.
No, Phillips decided as he glanced one more time at the disturbing pictures sitting in his lap. Not too long at all.
***
"Hey, Cupie Doll," Buddy Daniels said and winked as Cupid walked past. She gave him a sly smile and walked over to the time clock to punch in. "I didn't know you were working tonight."
"Yeah, me neither, until about two hours ago," she said and noticed, once again, exactly how cute he was. Buddy had only started working here about three weeks ago but the two of them had immediately hit it off. They were both currently single and, although he was a little quiet, that smile of his always got to her. She wondered often, with just a little disappointment, why he hadn't asked her out yet.
God, he's so cute…and me on Valentine's Day without a date…
"Hey…Cupid," Buddy called to her back as she was about to enter the sales floor. She turned and tried to hide the smile that had been trying to play across her lips. "Do you want to maybe get together after work, you know, for a little dinner or something? I mean, it's Valentine's Day and we're both just gonna go home afterwards and I just thought…"
"Of course, Buddy," she interrupted. "I'd like that."
She saw the ends of his mouth curl up into a smile and a softness came into his eyes. "Great, that's really great."
She nodded at him, slipped him that sly smile again, and left the employee break-room. Maybe Valentine's Day would turn out all right after all…
***
A door opened in the pasty gray corridor, about thirty yards down from his hiding spot beside the dumpster, and he watched an older gentleman dressed in a maroon apron and work clothes drag two bags of trash his way.
There were more than forty doors lining both sides of this corridor, rear access ways for various employees to rid their stores of trash unseen by the ever important consumers who kept them in business. People who handed over their cash and swiped their little plastic cards to the tune of nearly a billion dollars a year in this mall alone.
The corridor itself was nothing spectacular, bare cinder block walls and concrete flooring lit only by dim lamps spaced every twenty feet or so and covered with small metal cages as if the bulbs trapped within were hot items on someone's theft list.
The slime and stains of years worth of trash bags being dragged down the hall from each door covered most of the concrete flooring. He could hear the rubber-soled shoes of the old man rasping slightly with each step as he fought to tear them away from the stickiness underfoot. It was cold in the corridor, too. Very cold. He guessed that the mall management felt it unnecessary to keep the store employees warm while throwing out their waste. Maybe they felt that by keeping the area non-climate controlled, the employees would make less trips to the large green dumpster and keep the amount of trash they disposed of to a minimum, thus saving the mall from excessive waste removal fees. Petty motives for profit by petty men of even pettier moral values. How he despised them all.
The metal roll-up door that allowed the garbage trucks access from the outside to the twenty-yard dumpster looked well-used and dented. Most of the cold in the cramped gray corridor was seeping in around the edges of this door.
He grasped the slick black plastic handle of the nine-inch butcher's knife tightly as the old man approached. His heart raced and he tasted the sickly sweet desire to kill fill his mouth.
No, no, restraint…
The old man stood less than ten feet away and heaved the two black bags over the lip of the dumpster. He watched as the sloped figure grunted with the effort and could smell the man's sweat, an overpowering odor that nearly caused him to gag. Anger swelled up momentarily and he felt his body preparing to lunge at the despicable presence before he gained back his control and steadied himself behind the huge metal container.
Not just yet, not just yet…but soon…
The object of his attention this night would be coming through the seventeenth door down on the right of the corridor within the next ten minutes, if her habits held true. He had been watching this particular one for quite some time now. She was a creature of deep habits, of routines upon routines. So predictable, so utterly predictable in her actions. Didn't she know there was a killer on the loose? A predator hunting down those of her kind? A silly young woman without the sense to protect herself, without the will to survive. Willing to walk down this long corridor to meet her death with nary a suspicion.
Oh yes, this one deserved it most assuredly…
It would be interesting to see how far back he would have to cut this one's mouth open to accommodate her heart once the deed had been done. That was his favorite part, seeing just how wide open their mouths could go before he had to cut them further in order to slip through the still-beating organ. Watching their dying eyes widen in terror as he stuffed their very lives down their throats.
Speed with the knife, that was the key. It was the speed that allowed their brains to continue registering exactly what he was doing to them even after their hearts had been cut away. It wasn't easy sawing and hacking through ribs in a manner precise enough to leave the heart mostly intact. It took skill…it took patience. And did he ever have patience. It took all that he had to hold himself to just one per year. But, once this day arrived, he used every last ounce of it to get him to that moment. Every last ounce.
Tick tock, Cupid Montgomery, he thought and grinned as the old man slipped back into his store through the drab gray door down the corridor. Tick tock…
***
"Hello Cupid, thanks for coming in on such short notice," her manager said as she slipped behind the counter and scanned the small trash bin on the bottom left shelf for contents. "Somebody called in for Bonnie, said she wouldn't be able to make it in tonight and hung up before I could get any details. I hope she's all right."
"No problem, Martin. I hope Bonnie's ok, too, but I didn't have any plans anyway," Cupid said and picked up the half-full plastic container. "I'm going to take the trash out real quick, ok?"
"Sure, thanks, but try to get back on the floor as soon as possible," Martin Harris said to her retreating back. "Sandra needs to take her break, Karen soon after and we've been busy as hell today."
"You got it, boss," Cupid said and stole a quick glance back over her shoulder to catch Harris watching her backside with an appreciative eye. Caught you again, Martin, she thought and smiled as he quickly turned away. She passed into the storage area toward the rear of the store and shook her head at the mess on the floor. "Oh, great," she sighed, spotting five full trash bags and more flat boxes than she could count blocking the gray metal door which led to the service corridor.
"Thank God I like taking out the trash," she muttered and bent down to move some of the flattened cardboard boxes out of the way. She had tried using her heels once to perform this action but learned very quickly just how hard the concrete floor of the storage area felt when her butt slammed into it.
Three minutes later and she had cleared a path to the door. She straightened her dress and smooth
ed it out where it had bunched up around her hips before reaching over to grab the doorknob. An immediate wash of cold air swept into the storage room from the corridor as the door swung wide and she took a step back. "Damn cold," she said and quickly chastised herself again for talking to nobody, a bad habit she had picked up in college.
Grabbing up two of the big black trash bags she entered the corridor and began the long walk down to the dumpster. She always got the creeps in this corridor, like something would spring out at her from the shadows once she reached the far end. She liked facing it, though, conquering her fears on an almost daily basis.
Of course there was nothing there - there never was. But the corridor still managed to spook her every day. That was why she started out with the trash each and every shift. By facing her fears right off the bat, she could handle anything that happened on the sales floor the rest of the day. A mental game, sure, but if it helped her get through the mundane mall workday, it was well worth it to play.
Cupid could feel her shoes sticking slightly to the dirty concrete floor and grimaced at the thought of the germs she was scraping across the soles of her expensive footwear. People are such pigs, she thought, you'd think the mall could have somebody scrape the frigging garbage off the floor.
She was about seven or eight feet away from the dumpster when she heard it, a soft sound, barely there, but she heard it all the same. It sounded like someone exhaling, a quick gasp of excitement that had been held in for too long. It had come from behind the dumpster and her feet continued to propel her forward despite the tingling quickly scrambling up her spine.
There is someone here after all, she thought just as her eye caught the gleam of the overhead lamps off of bright shiny metal…
***
"Jesus Christ," Phillips swore and threw open the door to his unmarked car. "The fucking trash, how could I forget about her routine!"
He slammed the car door closed behind him, ignorant of the ghastly computer printouts that had scattered from his lap and on to the asphalt, and began heading for the mall's front entrance before remembering about the roll-up access door to the service corridor on the other side of the mall.
"Shit," he mumbled and switched directions mid-stride, sucking cold air deeply into his old lungs. It had been about eight minutes or so since Cupid had entered the mall, that meant that she had clocked in about maybe five minutes ago. If her routine held up, she had made the rounds of the various trash bins around the counter, the employee break-room and the storage area before commencing with her regularly scheduled trip down the service corridor to the dumpster.
He had been able to learn all of this without raising suspicion over the past few months, often following her into the store to observe her actions, trying to establish a pattern that he could document and rely on during his investigation. She seemed to always start her day with the trash run, a quick way to kill the first few minutes and get herself into the proper mindset for another dreary day at the mall, he figured.
Rounding the corner to the rear of the mall in full stride, he saw the roll-up door he wanted, dimly lit by a bare bulb mounted on the wall about a hundred yards or so ahead. He could barely see the series of buttons mounted to the right side of the door that allowed it to be opened and closed by the trash collectors from the outside and felt relief well up inside him as he realized that he was mere seconds away. He didn't care if she was in there and he scared the holy hell out of her by springing the door open, as long as she was safe and sound.
He could explain it all to her later but, for now, he only wanted to ensure her safety. That corridor was the perfect place for a killer to hide and wait for his prey. Phillips cursed himself for not thinking of having the place staked out earlier in the afternoon. Oh well, he would have to contend with that error in judgment later. Right now, he just wanted to see Cupid's face and make sure she was all right.
With about thirty yards to go he heard an awful scream tear through the night, muffled by the metal roll-up door directly ahead of him. It was a woman's scream - a scream of pure terror and it could only have come from one person.
"Goddammit, no!" Phillips screamed and tried to push his tired old legs a little faster toward the door. He never saw the greasy fast food wrapper lying in his path but managed to curse as he went down hard. The cursing stopped when his head bounced off the pavement.
***
He brandished the knife and she screamed, the ugly sound echoing off the cinder block walls in the confined space of the corridor. She was nearly frozen in terror and he was able to cover the distance to her in less than a second before she moved. He lunged for her and grabbed ahold of her dress at about thigh height as she struggled to move in her heels and began to fall toward the floor.
She was making no noise now and he hoped to God that the thick doors of the service corridor had made her scream inaudible to the employees inside the stores. The dress tore quickly at the slit that had lined her right side and the smooth blue fabric ripped high up right along the seam, exposing the little white satin panties underneath her dark nylons and most of her matching bra. The woman scrambled forward, away from the dumpster, and he placed one foot down firmly on some cloth trailing from her dress. This stopped her forward momentum but didn't stop her legs from kicking.
Good, he thought, I like it when they fight back…
He leaned down over her now, squatting atop her so that her kicking legs were knocking up against his back and rear. He noticed that the dress had managed to bunch itself up around her chest and neck, her cream colored flesh contrasting sharply against the gray of the concrete floor.
He made a motion for her to be quiet and raised the knife a little higher so that she could see it. Her face went pale and she momentarily stopped moving. He placed one hand on her bare right shoulder, pinning her to the ground, as he allowed the large knife to glide softly against her lips and left cheek. Tears were streaming from her eyes but he could see that she dared not scream again.
"My, but you are a pretty little Cupid," he said, and her eyes widened at the mention of her name. "Yes, I know who you are, my sweet young thing, but you don't know me."
"Please…" she muttered in a childlike voice and he felt the power engulf him as it always did. "Please, don't…don't…"
"Shhh, my sweet little Cupid," he purred. "This will all be over in a second or two. But, for now, you really should be gathering your thoughts and preparing for the last thing you want to fill your mind with."
"No, no…please…" she muttered, but he could see that her eyes were looking elsewhere, were looking up at the dim lamp directly above. She was making her peace, he decided. They all did that. It was the least he could do to give them that little bit of time to make their peace…
He slipped the knife through the center of her bra, the flimsy fabric slicing through, exposing the soft creaminess of her breasts. Now he could make his cut…
The knife raised and was about to lower when the door she had used to enter the corridor scant moments ago flew open and a large man came rambling toward him along the filthy concrete floor.
***
Ian Phillips, dazed and confused, tried to sit up but the pounding in his head knocked him down again. He touched his right hand to the place on his head that hurt the most and immediately felt the warm stickiness of blood.
Has to be a concussion, he thought and tried to concentrate on his watch. It showed just a few minutes later than when he had started his mad dash around the mall. Good, I wasn't out long…
Trying again, he forced himself into a sitting position and immediately lost what little contents had remained in his stomach from lunch. A natural reaction to a concussion, he knew, but it tasted foul nevertheless.
Rising shakily onto unstable legs, he found the door he had been heading toward lying directly ahead of him and he forced himself forward. It wasn't that far to go, but in his state, it seemed like a mile. Twenty feet further along, he dropped to his knees and threw up ag
ain…
Wiping spittle and yellow flecks of God knows what from his lips, he checked to make sure his weapon was still positioned in the holster under his left shoulder and tried once again to make it to his feet. Hold on Cupid, Goddammit, I'm coming…
***
Buddy Daniels scrambled down the service corridor, heard the heavy door to the back of the store clang shut behind him, and skidded to a stop about five feet from where Cupid and her attacker were lying on the floor.
"Hold off a minute," he said and glanced around nervously at the other doors in the service corridor. "Stewart, just hold off a minute."
The man looked up at him and grimaced. With a heavy sigh, he fixed Buddy with a glare and pointed the large butcher's knife toward him. "What in the hell are you doing here, Wilson?"
"Buddy…" Cupid moaned as her glossy eyes found him standing not too far away. "Buddy, help me, please…"
"So, she calls you Buddy," the man sitting atop Cupid said and he sneered. "How very endearing. Once again, what are you doing here, Wilson?"
"I thought I had made it clear to you about coming here, Stewart," Buddy said. "I thought I had made it more than clear."
"Shut up, you idiot," the man said and turned Cupid's face toward him. "She's mine tonight."
"No," Buddy said and took a step forward. The man lowered the knife toward Cupid's throat and made a quick little slash, drawing a small trickle of blood on her neck.
"You two, you two know each other?" Cupid managed to rasp, shivering from the cold of the corridor. Buddy looked down at the girl on the floor, saw her naked breasts, the dress nearly torn fully away and realized just how close it had been.
"Shut up my sweet," the man growled and grabbed ahold of Cupid's long red hair. "Leave us now, Wilson, or I shall come for you next."
