Bill looked at the faces as he pressed and struggled through the crowd. He felt odd, as if he was being watched. Not watched like people looking at him, but watched and studied. He looked at his cell phone to check the time and wondered for the first time if Amy was still waiting for him on the front porch of her house. If that even was her house.
At one end of the room, a stage had been erected, and Andrew took the stage like a professional. He waved Bill up, and with a grunt, he climbed up and turned. The mass of people screamed and cheered as Andrew held his hands apart and leaned back with gusto.
“My friends!” He had a microphone in his hands and smiled, showing all his uber-white teeth. “Tonight, we celebrate my friend Bill. He has come into some money, and because of his good fortune, we are assembled here tonight to get CRAZY!” With this, the crowd cheered even louder and they began to chant Bill’s name with the encouragement of Andrew:
“Bill!”
“Bill!”
“Bill!”
“BILL!” With each chant the music got louder and soon it over-powered the cheers, and Bill found himself down on the floor dancing.
The night became a blur of dancing and swimming in the pool out back, and as Bill moved through the evening, he forgot all about Amy. She was nothing, a dare, a date he had to endure in order to make some much-needed money. However, as he laughed and had a good time, he could not shake the feeling that he was being watched, and as the night wore on he could feel the hard ball grow and pulse in his gut.
This was stupid. Here he was at the biggest party he had ever been to, and he was the guest of honor. This was HIS party, and he was worrying about some crazy, yakky chick that he met online.
Time passed, and Bill found himself sitting in a pool chair looking out over the water, wondering how anybody could drink and swim without killing themselves. It was late. How late, he had no idea, and his head was light and felt like a balloon.
Most of the people were inside dancing and laughing. The sounds filled his mind, and he closed his eyes and was almost asleep when he felt something. A presence.
His eyes opened, and standing in front of him was the shape of a tall blonde woman. His mind worked to place her. She was wearing a cream dress that, in the moonlight, seemed to glow. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, and then he knew. It was Amy.
Her face was calm, almost dead. She stared at him, not saying a word, which was not her style, and Bill wriggled to his feet. “Amy… I… uh… Hi.” It even sounded stupid to his own ears, but there it was.
“We had a date, Bill. I waited and waited, but you stood me up.” Her tone was deep and was void of the airhead flavor Bill had associated with her. She sounded collected, and beyond angry.
“I, uh… yeah, I mean I forgot about— it was…” He took a step toward her and she crossed her arms.
“No one stands me up, Bill.”
“I know, I’m sorry… it was just—”
“Just nothing, Bill. I love you, so I am going to forgive you but you need to know that you will never, ever, EVER stand me up again!” Her eyes flashed, filling Bill with terror.
“No, never, sorry.”
Dan stumbled in between them and almost fell into the pool. He righted himself and looked with lazy eyes from Bill to Amy. He smiled, and his eyes grew bright with recognition. “Amy.”
Bill stepped toward Dan but was too late.
“You made this party happen, baby. Man, what a dare.” He stood a little taller and smiled. “Yeah, Bill got you good; totally got you to fall for him, and you took the bait.”
“Dan—” Bill grabbed his friend and pulled him by the arm and half dragged him inside. He swore under his breath and shoved Dan to the floor. “Stupid!”
“Hey, what the—”
“Shut up, Dan… just shut up!” Bill turned and looked to where Amy was standing. She was gone.
STAGE FIVE: REGRET
Bill woke the next day at half past noon. He groaned and rolled from his bed, holding his head. . The party came crashing into his memories. Parts of it were still hazy, but the one thing that was clear was Amy.
He could see her standing there, arms crossed with that look in her eyes. He shivered and made it to the kitchen, where he took four aspirin for his headache. After a long shower and a shave, he went to his Mac and checked his Facebook and Twitter. All looked good; she was gone. No messages, and his cell phone was good too. She went from texting psycho-stalker to gone in 60 seconds.
“Good, last thing I need is some crazy woman after me.”
Dan texted him and was going to come by at two so they could go look at cars. Bill wanted to get his own ride so he didn’t have to depend on Dan so much. He lived close to just about everything, but in Boise, a guy needed a car.
Bill found a piece of three-day-old pizza in the fridge and ate it in front of his Mac. He checked his email and saw that most of the spam was being filtered into his junk folder now, which made him glad.
Dan barged in and scared Bill into spitting Dr. Pepper all over his laptop. “What are you doing?” Bill wiped at the screen with his sleeve.
“Sorry man, you ready?”
“Yeah, just a minute.”
“Sorry ‘bout last night; I was a bit out of it.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, did she freak?”
“I don’t know. She left before I could talk to her, and I’m not going to call her.”
“That’s probably a good idea. Leave the bear alone.” Dan kicked a stack of magazines and shoved his hands in his pockets.
Bill shut the laptop and turned and walked out the door with Dan in tow. He glanced to the right of the door, and where his new bike usually sat, it was just empty space. He stopped short and Dan plowed into him.
“Hey,” Dan said.
“My bike, did you see it on your way in?”
“No, why? I didn’t even know you had a bike.”
“Yeah, I got it off Craigslist.”
“Bummer, you should keep stuff like that inside. People will steal anything.”
***
The car shopping went well. Bill picked up a brand new Dodge Challenger, black on black. He drove it back to his building and parked it in the parking garage. He clicked the locks and looked back at his new car and felt good. He liked feeling good, and now that he was rid of the crazy woman, he felt even better.
***
At 3:26 am, Bill woke to a fire alarm. The sound was blaring out of a wall mount device in his living room. He could hear yells and screams throughout the building as everyone woke up to the same sound.
Covering his ears, he rushed to the window and saw thick black smoke rising from down below. Fire trucks and police cars were screaming down the street in the direction of the alarm. He ran to the bathroom, unrolled some toilet paper and shoved it in his ears.
Once the sound was controlled, he went out into the hall and took the stairs down to the main level. People were rushing around, and the stairwell was clogged with sleepy on-goers all holding their ears and mumbling.
Once he was out into the main lobby, he could still see the smoke billowing from below them. He thought of his car parked in the underground garage and went back to the stairs and descended.
When he opened the door from the stairwell to the parking garage, thick black smoke hit him in the face, causing him to cough and gag. Pulling up his t-shirt, he pressed it to his mouth and walked out into the garage and around to where the smoke was less thick.
In the corner spot, a car flamed and popped in a raging inferno. The smoke was crawling along the roof of the garage and finding any source of escape. Like a lead ball, Bill’s stomach dropped, and all he could do was stare at the unrecognizable burning heap that used to be his car.
STAGE SIX: THE RESULT
Bill shut the door and looked at the time; it was now eight in the morning. The police took their time getting his statement. He wondered if they thought he had started the fire. He didn’t mention Amy,
as they would never believe that the blonde airhead could have the brains to fire bomb a car, let alone get away with it.
The more he thought about it, the more he couldn’t believe that she would do something like that. She would have had to plan it, like make a plan to buy gasoline, follow him, not be seen, wait, set it on fire, and drive away. It was not as simple as in the movies. There were cameras, — the police said they didn’t show anything— his parking spot seemed to be in the only dead area in-between cameras.
He threw himself back into bed and groaned. His brand new car. He knew it could be replaced, but the insurance and all the crap he would have to go through gave him an instant headache.
Bill closed his eyes and sighed. He soon fell asleep and dreamt of driving down the road in his new car. It was a beautiful day, and he was out in the country, windows down, radio up and nothing between him and the power under the hood. He smiled in his sleep.
***
The room was dark when Bill woke. He rubbed his eyes, and his neck popped when he moved. He felt like he had been hit by a truck and his left leg was tingling. “Ohhhh,” He groaned and turned over. His feet found the floor, and he stumbled to the bathroom.
He stepped on something wet and tugged down the zipper of his blue jeans. Just as he was about to pee, he heard a sound in the other room that made the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end.
Frozen in place, he listened. He could make out a soft swooshing and then it was gone. He pulled up his zipper, and in the dark, crept toward his bedroom door. The only light was the faint red glow of the alarm clock. He couldn’t believe he had slept the day away. The party must have really done him in, and with the late night, he was dead tired.
Stopping at the doorjamb, he craned his head around and scanned the living room and kitchen. All was dark except for his laptop. It was open and on, lit up like a lighthouse in a storm. Bill could feel his heart begin to beat faster. What in the world?
He reached for the light switch and clicked it on.
Nothing.
The power must be out, he thought, but the red glow of the clock radio told him otherwise. He walked toward the laptop and stared at the screen. Leaning down, he looked at a group of pictures on the screen.
Scrolling down, he saw that they were not pictures, but newspaper articles. Headline after headline of murder victims. Bill could feel his blood pulse in his neck as he read. All of them were men, all single, and some were not articles of murders but of missing persons.
He was so engrossed in the articles that when her voice broke the silence, he jumped and let out a screech. “What the—”
“Bill, Bill, Bill…” Her voice was calm, cool and laced with venom. “I gave you everything. I loved you, and gave you my heart. And what did you do?” She waited, but Bill couldn’t see her. The room was dark, and his eyes had not adjusted after looking at the computer screen.
“WHAT DID YOU DO!?”
“I, uh… Amy?” His head cleared and the connection made him, for the first time, wonder if he had made a fatal mistake in taking on this dare.
“Come on, Amy. I don’t know what you want.” He stood up tall and scanned the room. Her voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
Her voice was calm again. “I love you, Bill. I wanted to grow old with you, but you had to go and tear my heart from my chest. You and I had a future, a love like no other, and you just threw it all away.”
“Look, I can explain, the bet was—”
“—You used me. Thought I was just some dumb blonde that you could play with. Do you know what you have done? Do you have any idea who I am?”
Bill caught movement over by the couch and he took a side step toward the kitchen. On the counter was a steak knife, and he was beginning to think he may need to get to that knife. “It was stupid, I know. I really do like you, and I am sorry about our date. They were throwing a party and…”
“Bill. Don’t take another step.” The chill in her tone made Bill freeze mid-step. Lights came on and blinded Bill. He held up his hand over his eyes and squinted. What he saw made his lower lip tremble.
Amy was sitting on his couch, and the wind chimes hanging above her made the scene look surreal. This time, she was not dressed in a short skirt or a low cut top. Instead, she wore black cargo pants and a black t-shirt. Her hair was pulled up under a ball cap, and a gun rested in her hand. She held it loosely, as if she was comfortable with the feel of it. The gun was pointed right at him, and the couch, windows and almost the entire floor space of the living room, was covered in black plastic. Two work lights were set up, pointing toward the plastic-covered room.
“What is going on?” Bill asked, but didn’t really want to know. He had seen movies and had read a book or two. This scene was not lost on him.
“I think we are beyond pretending, Bill. You did something unforgivable, and now you must pay for your sins.” It was as if she was a completely different person. How could she change into this cold, collected… thing? The talkative airhead persona was gone. Was it all an act?
Bill glanced to the countertop that was a good three large steps away and looked back to the gun she held on him. He didn’t know if she was any good with a gun, but he was not sure he could grab the knife and then make it to her across the room without getting shot.
“So, what now?” Bill asked.
“I would like to talk to you. Could you please come and sit?” She patted the seat next to her. The plastic made a crackling sound, and she smiled.
Bill walked toward her, and his feet went cold as he stepped onto the plastic. It felt like he just entered a meat locker. The windows were covered with the same black plastic. Shivering, he sat on the opposite end of the couch and looked at Amy and the gun. It was small and silver, like something James Bond would carry.
“I need you to understand why I have to kill you, Bill.”
“Whoa, wait a minute… kill? Look, you burned my car to the ground. What is the point of killing me?” Fear gripped his mind, and he thought frantically of an escape. She was a girl, skinny and maybe a hundred pounds. He could jump her, but might die in the process.
“Yes, Bill. You lied to me. I fell in love with you, and you lied to me.” Tears began to fall down her cheeks, and Bill felt sorry for her. She wiped at them with the back of her hand and smiled weakly.
“Sorry, I get emotional. I am just so heartbroken.” Bill leaned toward her and her eyes flashed. She brought the gun around and slammed it across his jaw. He felt something snap, and she stood up so fast Bill didn’t even have time to react.
“Don’t you touch me, you pig! You lying, heartless pig!” Bill’s head swam, and his eyes blurred. The pain was outright amazing. He held his face and bent over with his head between his knees.
He tried to talk, but it sent a shock of pain up to his brain. He could taste blood in his mouth and he looked at his red stained hands. Looking up, he stared into cold, hate-filled eyes. “Please.” He managed to get out, but it sounded more like “Pweebes.”
“No more talking.” Amy took a step toward him, and Bill knew that this was it. He would need to act now or die. He had nothing to lose.
Amy held out the gun, and with her other hand, came across and stabbed something sharp in his neck. Bill twisted and pushed forward, putting his shoulder down. They both went down on the plastic. Bill slipped and could not stay on top of her. Amy squealed and scuttled to her feet.
She kicked him three times in the ribs, and Bill could feel something break. He gasped and sucked in air but couldn’t fill his lungs. This couldn’t be happening; this was crazy. People didn’t do this kind of thing.
Amy circled around him, panting hard. Bill got to his knees, but now his head was swimming. He pawed at his neck and pulled a syringe free. It was empty. Whatever she had given him was rushing through his system. He had only seconds, and he knew it. He shot out his hand and grabbed her leg, toppling her over.
Amy hit the floor hard and he leap
t onto her chest and began to pound his fist into her face. His vision clouded over, and he felt his hand break as he hit her over and over again. Her face felt like concrete, and now he couldn’t see anything, just black and gray fog as he passed out.
***
The room was spinning, and as Bill opened his eyes, he could feel his stomach turn. His hands throbbed, and his ribs and jaw hurt like crazy. He blinked and saw the two work lights glaring down at him. He looked at a small wind chime that hung above his head and wondered if he would ever hear its music again.
He tried to move but found that he had been duct taped to his dining room table. It had been moved into the plastic area, and he struggled, pulling his arms and pushing his hips up and down. He gasped and stopped struggling as his ribs cried out in agony.
This was insane. How had this happened? It was a stupid dare, a bet, and this girl was a psycho killer. He could turn his head, and he looked toward the kitchen at the knife sitting on the counter. It was so close, and yet it might as well have been a thousand miles away.
“Poor, poor Bill. He entered a game he could not win. Did you think you could mess with me and get away with it?” Amy leaned over him, and he saw that her face was perfect. Not a bruise or a cut. How had that been? He had hit her in the face at least three times before he passed out.
“You pounded the floor like a pro. Good thing you missed my face. I don’t want to have to go through plastic surgery again.” She smiled and kissed him on the forehead.
He grunted and bucked on the table. He was going to die, and he was powerless to do anything. No matter how hard he fought, he could not break free. The hopelessness of his plight made him want to cry, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you; I just wanted to win the dare. It was not personal.” He could speak the words, but instead, he thought them and looked into her eyes, pleading for her to understand and give up this whole thing.
“Too late, Bill. You chose this end. I am only the messenger.” She smiled and said, “You will never be found, Bill. I am going to cut you up into little pieces and dump you up in the mountains. I am sure the wildlife will enjoy you. Think of it this way, you are providing a meal for something far more important than yourself.”
Intrigue (Stories of Suspense) Page 4
