After Darkness Falls: Volume One Part 2

"Much appreciated my dear," Donald the much larger one beamed, "Just the thing to ward off cold demons on such a wild night."

The woman didn't say a word; her face was pinched as though annoyed at the interruption.

Della took the small pad and a pencil from her ap.r.o.n pocket as Donald viewed the menu hungrily and Raymond flicked listlessly through it. The woman left hers sitting on the table untouched.

"Are you not eating Rachael?" Donald enquired not looking up.

"I'm not hungry," Rachael answered, her voice was hard and raspy.

"Nonsense my dear, look at you, you're all skin and bones," Donald said.

"I said I'm not hungry," Rachael hissed.

"Oh but I insist," Donald said. His voice was still warm and friendly, but his tone had hardened ever so slightly. "We wouldn't want to be rude to our hostess now would we?"

Della felt the first tugs of tension and as much as she appreciated the big man's attempt at chivalry, she could do without it.

"Two eggs over easy and two pieces of dry white toast," Rachael said as her face was pinched tighter than ever.

Della watched as Donald's face looked up from his menu and stared at the skeletal woman sitting across from him. "Please," Rachael conceded.

"Excellent, and for you Raymond?" Donald asked the small delicate man looking awkward at the turn in the conversation.

"Oatmeal please," Raymond said, barely above a whisper.

"And I shall have the steak rare, French fries and a side of onions rings," Donald said as he snapped the menu shut with an exclamation point.

Della jotted down the order and moved away from the table hastily.

"I don't appreciate being spoken to that way Donald," Rachael snapped as soon as the waitress was out of earshot.

"And I don't appreciate scenes being made in public," Donald answered commandingly. "These little gatherings of ours are risky enough without one of us becoming memorable."

"Let's just get on with it shall we?" Raymond spoke up shyly. "We don't have much time."

"Excellent idea," Donald said jovially as his good nature flooded back. "Who's first?"

"Well to BE honest I'm worried that if I go first then the night becomes redundant," Rachael said smugly.

"Confidence from the lady," Donald laughed. "Well by all means my dear Rachael, please do astound us with your brilliance."

"17," Rachael said confidently.

"We have an opening bid of 17," Donald grinned. "And course you have all the necessary proof I a.s.sume?"

"Of course."

"And you Raymond, what pray tell is your offering?" Donald asked.

"17," Raymond answered downcast.

"Not bad Raymond, not bad at all. Don't be so disheartened," Donald commiserated.

"And you Donald? What is your number?" Rachael asked compet.i.tively.

"17," Donald grinned.

"Bulls.h.i.+t," Rachael snapped.

"Really, there is no need for such vulgarity," Raymond chided.

"If you've both got 17 then I want to see the proof," Rachael demanded.

"All in good time," Donald said still smiling. "But believe me there are only two things that I never lie about, my faith in the lord and the number of bodies that I've buried."

Della worked the grill and kept an eye out on her three customers. Raymond and Donald seemed nice enough, but Rachael seemed like a right b.i.t.c.h. She glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was 11.49 pm. Working the night s.h.i.+ft had moved her body clock around to the point that it still felt like the start of a new day instead of the end of an old one. Quite why these three people were meeting in a truck stop out in the middle of nowhere did actually seem quite odd. Neither of them were dressed like truckers and in fact all of them looked like smart professionals.

She flipped the steak over and rattled the fryer basket. Quite why the big man wanted to pack away such a heavy fatty meal at this hour she didn't know. She popped the onion rings into the fryer and took an oatmeal portion from the fridge and slammed it into the microwave.

Donald poured through the evidence as usual. His was always the deciding and if required, casting vote. The compet.i.tion was simple; the person with the highest amount of murders for that calendar year was the winner. There was no price as such as stake, only the knowledge and satisfaction that you reigned as champion for the coming year. There were no points for style or technique as everything was subjective. And as friendly as the compet.i.tion was, the idea of three agitated serial killers arguing over stats could only end in one outcome. You had to provide evidence of your kills in the form of Polaroid snaps and the honour system was in place against any faked images.

They met once a year on December the 29th to compare figures in a remote restaurant, bar or diner chosen at random. They knew little about each other away from their clandestine meetings and only used aliases.

Raymond was a stabber. He was a nervous and impotent man of body and mind during the day. He sat in an office cubicle being either ignored or ridiculed by his peers and even subordinates. His boss was a svelte and attractive predatory woman called Mila who slinked her way around the office with a reptilian's slither. She never wasted an opportunity to make him uncomfortable with her touches and sly strokes. He knew that every touch was an insult that she laughed about behind his back and every time that he plunged his blade into the bodies of the prost.i.tutes and transients he picked up, he saw Mila's face.

Rachael was an angel of mercy as the press seemed to dub such people in her profession. She worked at a hospital in the geriatric wards. She often heard the word of G.o.d when He came to call one of his flock home. She was His hand of mercy and it was her job to end the suffering that she saw around her day in day out. She saw it as only more evidence of G.o.d's will and plan that the hospital had never seen fit to launch an investigation into their high mortality rate. She believed that everything was G.o.d's plan, even her enjoyment at her task. She loved her work and it was her reward.

Donald was a man of large appet.i.tes. He was gregarious and outgoing and was a hugely valued member of his local community. He ran numerous outreach programs to the needy and his home office was stuffed full of charitable awards. Of course one of Donald's most voracious appet.i.tes ran to young flesh. His organisation for homeless youths afforded him plenty of opportunity for indulgence. The s.e.x of his victims mattered little as did the act of s.e.x itself. It was the purity of spirit that he craved; the innocent soul tasted the sweetest of all. He had no particular fondness as to method, but he did quite like to feel his meaty hands around fragile throats. He was always careful though to avoid leaving any sort of trail or pattern to his crimes. He had often suspected that his fellow players would one year fail to attend their little gathering due to the repet.i.tive nature of their crimes.

"Well?" Rachael asked irritably.

Donald held up a hand to quieten her as he finished looking through Raymond's thick envelope. He looked up with regret. "I'm afraid that we appear to have a tie," he sighed.

"Well that is unacceptable," Raymond stated firmly, or as firmly as he could muster. He wiped his gla.s.ses for the umpteenth time at the table. "We must have closure and a winner." He checked his watch anxiously, "we have less than 10 minutes to come with a solution," he pressed.

"Dummy up," Donald said firmly as he caught sight of the waitress approaching the table.

"Here we are folks," she said as she hefted the large tray and began setting down the food.

Donald flashed her his best disarming smile; it was one that had gotten several juicy young morsels into the back of his truck. "It all looks divine my dear." A flash of an idea raced through his mind. "You're not going to tell me that a young lady such as yourself is all alone tonight?"

"Afraid so," Della replied. "The girl that I was supposed to be on with hasn't shown up so it's just little old me. Can I get you anything else?"

"I think that we're just fine and dandy, you've done us proud," Donald beamed brightly.

"Well I'll be close by if you need anything," Della said as she headed back to the kitchen.

"You really are an oily snake," Rachael said disparagingly when the waitress had left.

"She's only being nice because she's looking for a tip," Raymond said with venom. "She'll be over there now laughing at us. She'll be on the phone with all of her friends talking about the three suckers that she had in last night."

"A G.o.dless creature to be sure," Rachael agreed.

"Or the answer to our little problem," Donald mused.

The other two looked at him confused.

"We have to settle our little problem, do we not?" Donald said quietly. "We need a tiebreaker and that lonely girl could be the answer."

"How's that going to work? We all just rush her at once and see who gets there first?" Raymond asked.

"Well that wouldn't exactly be fair now would it, I mean I'm a little lacking in the athletic department," Donald grinned.

"So how do we decide?" Rachael asked impatiently.

"How about a little test of ingenuity and imagination?" Donald proposed.

"What do you mean?" Raymond asked intrigued.

"Well we have three minds here. We each come up with the best way to dispose of our young waitress and the most interesting gets to carry out their plan and thus wins this year's contest," Donald said as he heaved a fistful of fries into his eager mouth.

Della emptied the now cooled fryer; it was a pretty gross job but it kept her mind occupied. She couldn't believe that she had just told her three increasingly weird patrons that she was on her own for the evening. When the one called Raymond had first come in he had seemed shy and harmless, but he had kept giving her sideways glances at the booth. His eyes had suddenly seemed angry and judgmental. The jovial Donald all of a sudden looked carnivorous and hungry with a bright smile that didn't quite reach to his eyes which were cold. The woman, Rachael, was the only one who hadn't seemed to have altered. Her face was still set like stone.

"Alright then I'll go first," Raymond said boldly. "We all clear out. I'll find the fuse box around the back and cut the power. Then I'll cut the phone lines and leave her isolated. I want her nice and scared and alone in the dark. I'll barricade the back doors and slip inside the front. I can be pretty quiet and nimble when I need to be. I saw a couple of stray looking cats around the parking lot on the way in. I'll skin one and bring it inside. Leave the head sitting on the counter and use the blood to write something nasty on the wall. I'll have her terrified and running around in the darkness. They always run and they always scream. The place is pretty deserted so no-one will hear her. The trick is to let her think that she's going to get away. Always give them that little piece of hope before you take it away. While she's freaking out in here I'll slip back outside and wait in her car, ducked down behind the backseat. She'll make a break for it, get in the car, and breathe that huge sigh of relief before I slit her throat." Raymond finished and sat back from the table.

"That's a bit trite isn't it? I mean done to death so to speak?" Donald asked.

"It's a cla.s.sic," Raymond huffed.

"Alright then, me next," Rachael said "Time's a wasting and we have to get this done before midnight for it to count on this year's quota."

"Agreed," Donald said and Raymond nodded.

"Well to start with I would want to incapacitate her. I am used to dealing with those in a more p.r.o.ne state. A syringe loaded with a longer term paralytic agent like Nuromax would suffice. Personally I would like to learn more about the human anatomy. In my work I am able to administer dosages when the chosen are called home, but I am curious as to the effects of my methods. Perhaps I can learn more about the workings of the human body to aid me in my calling. I would lock up the diner for the night. There is a pool table that I saw out the back which would make a fine operating table. I would have a few hours before the morning s.h.i.+ft arrives to dissect and probe. I'm fairly confident that I could keep her alive long enough for me to get some answers."

"That sounds very untidy," Raymond offered meekly. "Pulling apart the flaps of the human form, all of that blood and mess spraying around the room, who's going to clean that up?"

"We must have knowledge in order to better fulfill our destiny," Rachael said haughtily.

"What about you Donald? What would be your grand design?" Raymond asked.

"Well," Donald started as he put down his fork and wiped his mustard smeared face with a napkin. "I think that I would like to make full use of the facilities," he said with a glint in his eye that made the other two look a little nervous.

"Facilities?" Raymond asked.

"We have a fully functioning kitchen at our disposal do we not? Industrial sized fryers and ovens. I would like to set the young thing's mind at ease, after all we are told that stress is a terrible addition for the meat. Cattle must be calm when they are slaughtered. There is a full wall of glinting sharp metal knifes and cleavers to play with. I share Rachael's predilection for dissection. I would like to carve that juicy fresh filly into strips of delicate meat. I used to be quite the budding chef don't you know, and I'm sure that I could come up with a few recipes with which to serve up our delicious hostess. Think about it, the young girl goes missing, who exactly is going to miss her? Young girls these days take up and leave all the time. Trust me, I work with lots of troubled youths. I saw that the diner is equipped with a large walk in freezer. I'm sure that no-one would notice if the burger patties were a slightly different color and the steaks were a little tougher. The breakfast crowd would have a little something extra on their plates in the morning, how delightful would that be?"

"You're a monster!" Rachael exclaimed.

"Aren't we all?" Donald replied.

"So how do we decide?" Raymond asked looking down at his watch at the creeping hands.

"Dummy up," Donald instructed quickly as he caught sight of the waitress approaching.

Della approached the booth with a freshly brewed pot of coffee and saw the odd look in Donald's eyes. For some reason she thought of the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood. There was a strange energy about the table and she felt like they had been talking about her. "Everything ok?" She asked.

"First cla.s.s my dear," Donald smiled widely.

"Fine," Raymond mumbled.

Rachael only stared through her.

Della noticed that Donald was the only one who had eaten anything of note. The other two had picked listlessly at their food and only the coffee cups were empty. "Let me refill those cups for you," she said buzzing around the table with the pot. When she was done she started to clear the table, expertly stacking the plates through experience gained up and down the country in similar diners.

"Oh there's no need," Donald said coldly.

She didn't like the iciness in his voice and hurried. Once the crockery was stacked high on her forearms she turned back to the kitchen and tried not to run.

"Don't scare her off," Raymond hissed anxiously.

"Oh relax," Donald said sitting back in the booth and taking a swig from his freshly filled cup. "She's not going anywhere."

"Time's running out, we have to decide," Rachael stressed. "How are we going to decide?" She asked behind her coffee cup as though she was suddenly worried that the waitress had developed lip reading abilities.

"I like my idea best," Raymond stated solemnly.

"Well I like mine and I'm sure that Rachael likes hers," Donald said irritably. "What we need is an impartial judge."

"Brilliant idea, and just who do you suggest we ask?" Rachael said sarcastically looking around the deserted diner.

"Why not her?" Raymond offered.

"Who?" Rachael snapped.