The Killer's Apprentice (Jeff The Killer)

Jeff's Road Rage

"Slow down!"

"Slowing down will make us late. Stop being a pussy and take it."

"You're going to get us both killed!"

"Kimberly, darling, if I kill you it won't be by car."

I grasped tightly to the seat as we flew down the empty street. Jeff was swerving down the corners in the early morning light. It still was somewhat dark and was hard to see out.

So why this insane man was speeding down these streets was beyond me.

"Florida will be there if we don't speed, I promise! Slow down!" I snapped, holding to the seat for dear life. We'd been driving for about two hours now, and it had been this nonstop. Jeff simply growled in response before speeding up. I yelped and closed my eyes. "Jeff!"

"Calm down, I know what I'm doing," he replied as we turned another curve.

"That is a matter of opinion!" I shot back. The fictional murderer only laughed though, and kept driving.

I groaned and held on tighter to the seat. I was sure the leather would be torn by the time we got to Florida. If we even made it to Florida.

"What are you gonna do if you get pulled over?" I finally said. Jeff scoffed.

"I speed up. I know how to outrun the police."

I bit my lip and slumped in the seat. There was no doubt in my mind. I was either going to die or I was going to prison.

"You know this is kidnap," I pointed out. "People are going to be looking for me."

"It isn't kidnap. You asked to come," he replied simply. "And as for them looking for you, well, don't worry about that. You can't panic over these things, all right? You can't panic. Now, just sit back and enjoy the ride."

Jeff went quiet after that and continued to speed along the dark streets. I closed my eyes tightly and let out a breath, wishing I was home.

~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

"Kim," someone whispered.

I groaned and turned over. "No, I don't wanna get up," I mumbled. "Go away."

I heard the person laugh. "Kimberly, wake up."

Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked around. I was in a car, it was daylight, and I had no idea where I was. Then I turned to look at the driver.

"Look who decided to join in," Jeff said, his large smile widening. "You're a deep sleeper, you know. You fell asleep a little while after we left North Carolina and never even flinched while I drove us down the mountains."

My eyes went wide at the thought of Jeff driving down those mountains and my head began to swim. I could have died last night and never even knew about it.

"Right," I said, "That's great. Now where the hell are we?"

The murderer chuckled and cocked an eyebrow. "Close to Atlanta. We need to stop for gas." He frowned some, that same disturbing look as he tried to frown but couldn't because of his permanent smile.

"We made it this far without gas?" I asked, my eyes wide. Jeff's attempt at a frown vanished and he nodded. From what I could see as I tried my best to ignore the cut-in smile, his face was solemn. I could add one more thing to the list that he might have held for cutting that smile. It was nearly impossible to read his facial expression.

 I let my shoulders slump and leaned back on the seat, playing with the piercing in my lip. Sad as it sounded, I was incredibly bored. I didn't feel like messing with the radio, and talking to a murderer didn't sound like fun. To be honest, I was nervous to talk. I'd been talking to him for months online, but now it was just weird. And a tad scary.

 So, I kept my eyes straight ahead. I didn't want to take the chance of catching a glimpse of him. Even more, I didn't want to catch his eye. Instead, the car stayed in complete silence. Jeff had slowed slightly, now that we were in broad daylight and there were more people on the highway.

"I'm going to stop for gas. You go inside and pay for it. Get yourself something small to eat and drink, too. Then come straight back, understood?"

His voice was so calm and straight forward. He didn't sound hateful, or angry, or the least bit murderous. Only firm in what he wanted, and that he wanted to be sure that I knew what to do.

For a moment, I can't help but think about getting out and running as soon as the car has come to a stop. Then I think about him. Jeff the Killer. A murderer. Who would surely kill me the first chance he got if I didn't obey.

And with that thought, I nodded my head in agreement.

"Yeah, got it. Do you want anything?" It was something I was so used to asking that the thought of asking him never went through my mind. I remembered asking Mom this whenever we were on the road, and it was simply the first thing I said now. I never thought I'd ever ask a killer that, though.

"No. Just buy the gas and something to hold yourself over," he said. "Then come straight back. I think we can make it to Florida if we drive nonstop at a good pace."

I shuddered when he says "good pace". Does that mean he'll be speeding again?

He pulled over at the gas station and I saw him tug at his hoodie even more. His face was completely concealed. I would never guess that such a face was under that black hair and white hood.

 Jeff reached over and dug into his pocket. He pulled out a wad of money and reached it over to me. "Take it and pay for thirty dollars worth of gas," he ordered. I hesitated before quickly taking the money from his white hand and getting out of the car.

Inside, it was like any other stereotypical gas station. There was a smell of cigarette smoke and plenty of snacks to buy for the road. In the back were coolers with different drinks, ranging from beer to Pepsi.

I hurried over to the snacks and grabbed a bag of peanut butter crackers. I looked around slowly, catching a glimpse of Jeff outside through the window, filling the car that was taking me to Florida. I bit my lip and made my way to the cooler.

As I browsed, I thought about who I was here with. A fictional murderer. This wasn't supposed to be real. This couldn't be real. Jeff couldn't be real. He just couldn't! He was a made-up person from a website. A creature in a ghost story.

And he was waiting for me outside.

I opened the cooler and sighed as the cold air hit my face. It felt good in the hot gas station. Quickly, I grabbed a Monster and closed the cooler, then hurried to the counter to pay.

The man there was just as stereotypical as the place. A tall, fat man with grease stains on his white shirt and a torn, plaid button down that was missing a button or two. He had greasy black hair and a bushy beard and yellow teeth with a few gaps in his smile. A large nose, a strong smell, and a sick grin.

I handed him the money. "Thirty dollars of gas, too," I said quietly. He nodded and took the money from me, his hand lingering a little too long at mine. I pulled my hand away at bit at the ring in my lip nervously, my eyes cast downward.

For a moment, I wanted to tell him about my problem. That I was being dragged across the states by a fictional killer and that I needed to go home. After all, without me, Mom was alone. What would she do without me? She needed me.

But I remembered Jeff's threat, and that's enough to keep my mouth shut. I simply fold my arms as he gets my change, and then I'm gone. I hurry out of the gas station and climb back into the car. Jeff's waiting.

"That took long enough," he said, sarcasm dripping from his tone. I can't help but roll my eyes.

"The guy was slow," I muttered, "Here's your money." I hand him the rest of the money and pull the seatbelt over me, then lean back and fold my arms with a huff.

I can't help but glance at him, and I growl at his smirk. "Someone's in a bad mood," he said in a sing-song voice, his eyes gleaming with a teasing look. I glower at him.

"Just drive," I said through gritted teeth, no longe thinking about who it is or what I'm saying. Jeff lets out a bark of a laugh.

"Fine, fine," he said, chuckling. Then, with a smirk, he pulled out and once again began to fly down the road.