Wednesday, October 18

Round Nine

He stared over the rail at the bloody mess.
He had missed his target completely.
He could see her body lying on the rock below, crumpled like a broken doll.

The moon was just beginning to rise and the weak light made the engagement ring on her finger glow, like a metallic beacon, begging to be discovered.

He had chosen this side of the canyon because of the jagged peaks and salient outcroppings. This is one area that climbers avoided and the possibility of rockslides made it too perilous for rafting.

What were the chances that someone might pass by or get a flat tire and just happen to glance down from this high, rugged apex and notice a body below?

Well, up until now, the chances would have been pretty damn slim. There was no sign of the others from here. He had rushed too much this time. It was just becoming so easy that he was beginning to get sloppy.

Just like usual, he had smashed her face with a brick to hush her screaming and then, when he had finished doing what he wanted to her, he had brought her here to join the others. The difference between her and the rest of them, besides the fact that she wasn't a whore, was that stupid purple damask dress she was still wearing. It stood out like a neon sign as she lay on the rock below, eye's wide open to the incipient moon.

He had stripped the others.
He used to be afraid of getting caught. He had made sure that he hosed them down and had dropped them further down the canyon, where the water was deeper. Once the bodies had smashed through the trees they could not be seen from the road.

Damn, now what would he do?

He pulled out a cigarette and his lighter. As he lit the cigarette, the flame illuminated his face in the night. He had a face that was almost angelic, but his big brown eyes appeared troubled. Standing on the side of the road next to his van he could have been a college kid with a flat tire or just you're average twenty-something who had run out of gas and was waiting for a friend to pick him up.

He turned and leaned over the rail to look at her body again.

Shit, what a mess.

Her head was lying at an odd angle and the muddy water lapped at the fringe of black hair hanging over the edge of the rock.

She definitely had a broken neck.

Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. Even if he managed to make his way down there to move her, without breaking his own neck, he would never be able to climb back out and he was not about to spend the fucking night down there with them.

He took a last drag off of the cigarette and flicked it over the rail.
He heard the sound as it hit the water beside her head and was snuffed out by the foul river water.

He'd better get home and start packing.

He knew that it was time to move along again.