A Third Kind- Sample- Chapters 1-9

Chapters 1 - 3

Chapter 1

       Screams erupted from inside the trunk less than an hour outside of Jacksonville.

       Kaleb sighed. He'd been waiting for the girl to come to. Her name Allie, a twenty-year-old student from Jacksonville, and know that only made things harder. It was a stupid mistake to look at her ID- Not the first of the night, mind you, but it had happened—and now more than ever he had no idea what to do with her.

       He pulled over, grateful for the brooding clouds and heavy rain veiling the night. Stinging droplets and gusts of wind lashed him the moment the door opened. He hesitated, trying to think of what to say. Maybe, Hi, sorry I abducted you. I haven't decided if I should kill your or not, but I'll keep you in the loop? Could he even bring himself to do it? Killers, thugs, all-around criminals, sure, but some little wisp of a blonde girl with a bad habit?

       He popped the trunk. "Please, stop scream—"

       The kick caught him off guard, knocking him back a step. For a second he could only watch the sad little thing attempt to escape. Allie tried to heave herself out of the trunk, but her hand, wet with blood and rain, shot out from beneath her. She fell hard, her head catching an edge with a wet crack.

       Kaleb leaned in to take a closer look. If not for the slight rise and fall of her chest he would have thought her dead. There was relief in that, but also anxiety settling into his chest and shoulders. What was better: having a role in another innocent's death, or having to deal with a witness? Tough call.

       It could be worse, though—he could be in her shoes. Judging by the cast and tautness of her skin, she was a junkie. Maybe not that far gone yet, but on her way. What a waste, so young to be tainted by that poison. She didn't deserve an of this, but what was he supposed to do? She'd seen him?

       As if that was her fault. How many times had he gone hunting? Hundreds? Thousands? And she was the first witness. Sure, others had seen him at times, caught glimpses, but never during a kill. If only he'd gotten there sixty seconds later...or if he would have just found someone else, someone worse...or...if. Or. If. It was useless to dwell on. It was what it was.

       "It would be easy to kill you," Kaleb muttered. "Solve the problem. Twist your neck. Or suffocate you."

       Can you? his conscience whispered. Can you handle seeing another innocent face when you close your eyes?

      No.  He couldn't. Two were more than enough to haunt his dreams.

       He could almost hear his conscience hissing with laughter as if to chase off any misgivings that a bit of mercy might make him a little bit more human or a little less hell bound when he finally reached the end of his miserable existence.

       A flicker of movement drew Kaleb's attention to the back of the trunk, striking home the truth of the matter. 'Killing' didn't adequately describe what he did. It was too cavalier. This girl was an accident he didn't know how to deal with. Then there was the drug peddler, a thug who made money on the side by pimping girls out where they wanted to be or not. He was watching this all, eyes wide with abject terror. They were the only part of the man's body that still worked.

       The technique had taken decades to perfect. Shattering the vertebrae in just the right way kept the body alive for a few hours—not long, just long enough to harvest. The pain had to be extraordinary, the reality beyond horrendous. Of all of Kaleb's victims, perhaps only a handful deserved such a brutal death. The rest were bad people, predators, but to die like this?