July 4: OR, Just Another Day (Part 3)

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He loaded her in and crawled in beside her to get a good look at what he’d hooked.

Sarah now had a choice to make; eat now and save herself the pawing, or let him take her back to his hole and drain him slowly. “Hell with that,” she told herself, “I’m hungry.”

But as Wilton turned away to close the back of the van and she prepared to surprise him, she heard the tell-tale crackle of a cop radio and a voice asking Wilton is everything was alright.

“It’s fine, officer,” Wilton said climbing out, “just making sure the picnic food isn’t going to spill on the way home.”

Sarah swore softly as the door closed her in and she felt the van start to move.

She was ravenous when the van finally pulled to a stop. She heard Wilton open a gate, felt the van move though it, then heard him as he closed the gate and resumed driving for a short while. 

When he opened the back of the van and slid inside to lift her flaccid body out, she reached out and pulled him into her embrace. His shock held him motionless for a moment, but then Wilton started struggling. She pulled his head to one side and used her fingernails to pierce his jugular vein. She was a quart into him when she came up for air. She knew she needed to drink a bit slower or she’d be burping blood all night. And Wilton had quit struggling after the first pint or two. He wasn’t going anywhere; out cold and in shock from blood-loss and pain.

Pushing his body away from her own, Sarah poked around the inside of the van, taking stock. A few, now bloody, sleeping bags on the floor. An open tool kit in which plastic zip strips in several sizes and duct tape in a variety of colors filled the top opening. Then she spotted the plether briefcase tucked partially under the passenger seat. Opening it, she found a cornucopia: vials of Rohypnol and Klonopin, along with a baggie of white powder she figured was cocaine and a selection of needles packaged with a vial of Heroin. Nasty stuff, and expensive stuff for a standard old-guy rapist to be carrying around. Sarah looked from the open briefcase to him, considering her options. She could finish him quickly – which was her norm – or hit him with some of his own product to keep him out while she explored the location he’d brought her to. It would mean drinking tainted blood unless she waited until it cleared his system, but really, all it would do was to make his blood taste rancid. The drugs in it wouldn’t make her sick or have any “high” effect on her.

Shaking her head at herself as she gave in to her biggest vice, curiosity, Sarah prepared him a fix and injected him. She’d watched enough of her friends do it back when she’d been alive to be capable of it. Then she covered his body with one of the bloodstained sleeping bags before cracking the door a few inches.

Peering carefully out and seeing no one and hearing no movement, she slipped out of the van allowing the door to close gently behind her.

It was the low moans coming from the obviously abandoned building on her left that gave her direction, and she moved quietly in that direction. Sidling up to a broken window she peered in; there was a young naked woman chained to a cot. The moans were coming from her, “Oh God, oh God, oh God” in a constant stream as the woman rocked back and forth rubbing her shoulders. Sarah knew a good human would rush in and “save her,” releasing her from the chains and sweeping her off to hospital and help. But Sarah wasn’t human. Not anymore.

She smiled and went to the van where she stepped over Wilton to reach the drug kit. Pulling a second syringe out and filling it with enough H to keep the captive placid for a few more hours, she walked over to the broken window and tossed it though a broken space. She heard the scramble as the captive crawled eagerly over to the syringe. No need to watch.

She would finish up Wilton and hole up for the day, and if no “saviors,” or if Wilton’s partners, didn’t show up by the time the chained woman woke up, Sarah would have her next day’s meal.  She’d leave the outcome to chance: good or bad.

It was the game that made eternity interesting.

Story copyright Leslie Ormandy 2012 ALL rights reserved!