A Trail of Murders

Chapter VIII

Six days had passed with us hiding out in this cabin. Six days of sadistic actions, six days of assault on my body and six days of news reports about the mystery serial killer and I. Now, I find myself sitting in the empty bathtub, well.... empty except from the blood dripping from my new whipping wounds along my back, a gift from Myles. Everything was numb, I barely feel the pain anymore. Remember that pregnancy pillow that he wanted me to wear? Yeah well, Myles wanted me to use it to lure victims. He took me out that first day and caught a middle-aged woman. He killed her in the gas station bathroom. Cringing at the memories, I reached out, turning both the hot water and cold water taps on, watching as the water swished about my body, slowly rising above my waist.

    I'll admit, the soap stung briefly as I moved it along my wounds, but not enough  to bring tears to my eyes. Standing, I listened as the water droplets hit the bloody bathwater beneath me. Grabbing a towel, I exited the bathroom, wincing under the gaze of Myles as he looked at me. I went to pull a dress on, when he grabbed my arm.

    "We're leaving today, put on something smart and grab that pregnancy pillow. I'm not going to be happy with you my love if you get us caught." He whispered, pressing his cheek against my head.

    I pulled away, not saying a word to him. I simply continued to pull on my undergarments and the black dress. It perfectly expresses my feelings right now. Myles tied my hands and ankles and carried me to the car, this time setting me in the front seat and strapping me in with the seatbelt. He figured it was time to be known to the world and police. He wanted them to know his name. He was a big time serial killer, but had only stayed in Colorado until now. He wanted the world to see him, so we were crossing into Utah. His goal was to murder his way into California, evading the authorities every step of the way. I don't know if he can do it, but at this point, I know better than to argue.

    He put our stuff in the car and we hit the road. I watched as the cars flew by us, startled when two police cars casually passed us as well. Resting my head against the window, I thought back to the press conference. Could people really believe that I am a willing accomplice? How sick is that? I mean, I've heard of stockholm syndrome cases, but this is just insane. Closing my eyes, I tried to fall asleep, only to awaken ten minutes later as we pulled up to a diner. From the corner of my eye, I watched as Myles placed his new gun into his waistband and pick up a knife, cutting my bindings with a harsh warning.

I nodded my head in understanding, following him into the restaurant. We sat at a booth near the back exit, my back to the door. Nobody seemed to recognize me, at least not yet. Five minutes after our food was brought to our table, the TV screen caught my attention. My face was plastered on the screen again. I tensed up, and Myles gave me a glare, causally pulling the gun into his hand. People around me started to whisper. I watched as the waitress's face went white as she looked between us, and she ran up to a man behind us, tapping his shoulder and gesturing towards us. He stood up and his jacket moved, revealing his badge. My stomach sunk as I saw an exhilarated look appear in Myles's eyes.

From the corner of my eye, I watched as the cop slowly walked closer to us. He called out to me. "Ma'am, I'm going to need you to drop that knife and stand up with your hands behind your head."

Myles nodded at me, and I could see the excitement growing. Oh GOD. He's going to kill this cop! My breath caught in my throat as I followed the instructions given to me. The cop still hadn't addressed Myles, obviously not really noticing that we were together. When he went to handcuff me, Myles made his move. He pulled out the gun and shot me in the leg. I screamed and dropped down to the floor in pain. Myles took the chance to shoot the cop in the head and grab his gun from it's holster. Then he turned it on the few customers in the diner.

"All you people in the back and restroom. I know there are five in the kitchen, two in the bathroom, and one manager in the office. You all need to get out here.... NOW. If any of you are missing, I will shoot all of your customers!" Myles yelled out with a sick grin.

Tears fell down my face. The people quickly came out and got on the floor, faces pressed to the cold granite. Myles looked down at me.

"Get up and search everyone for guns and cellphones." He growled.

I pulled myself up, ignoring the pain that I was feeling. If I didn't do it, he'd shoot me again.... just to show me who's the boss. I limped around, quietly apologizing as I confiscated 15 cell phones and one gun from an old man. I made my way back to Myles, trying to hand him the guns, only to have him order me to hold on to them. Then, without warning, he started shooting at the fifteen people in the room. He had eight rounds in his own gun, and the cop's Glock 22 holds fifteen rounds, enough to slaughter everyone. Myles was so fast, that nobody saw it coming. Six people were down in less than a minute. He shot the waitress in the abdomen before moving on to kill the rest. It was a bloodbath. I saw the fearful gazes on the victims, forever frozen on their faces. Urine leaked from their bodies as their bodily functions ceased to exist.

I tried to turn away, but Myles wasn't having it. He grabbed my leg, squeezing the bullet wound, which he disdainfully exclaimed was a "through and through". He pulled me closer to the waitress, who was screaming out. He tightened my hand around the gun still in my hand and positioned it to aim at the waitress's head.

"Shoot her." He commanded.

I froze, lowering the gun and looked up at him. "No!" I yelled out, unable to control myself.

"Why not? They already see you as my accomplice. Let's just confirm their theory. Shoot her."

"I will not!"

"You will, and you will love it because you are just as sick as me my little dove. Now shoot her!" He yelled.

Just as the word no began to pass through my lips, Myles grabbed my hand, raised the gun and squeezed my fingers around the trigger, sending the bullet through her eyes, causing me to get hit with the blood. I couldn't control my disgust. I attempted to run outside, barely opening the door before I vomited. Myles cringed in disgust. This deranged man is destroying my innocence. I've just killed somebody. The realisation hit me hard. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I had forgotten about my bullet wound, but it suddenly hit me with a lurch of pain, pushing me over. I fell down the steps and hit my head, knocking me out with one hard swoop.
******

The loud sound of an approaching train's whistle woke me with a start, causing me to bolt upright and knock my head into something hard. I opened my eyes and saw I was in a motel room, well actually am in the bathroom of a motel, inside the empty bathtub. I glanced downwards and saw myself still dressed up with the fake baby bump and blood splattered across my clothes. I shuddered and tried to move but screamed out in pain. Yet again, I had forgotten about the horrendous wound in my thigh. Myles walked into the bathroom with a first aid kit. He walked up next to me and grabbed my leg right on the wound. I cried out in pain, lurching forward to slap his hands away as he poured rubbing alcohol onto the hole.

He pushed me back, hard, and continued to clean both sides of the wound before pushing something inside and wrapping it up with a "pressure bandage". He left without a word, slamming the door behind him, locking it. Out of breath from screaming and crying, I sunk deeper into the tub. Barely five minutes passed before the door unlocked and revealed Myles once again. He pulled me out, ignoring my pain, pushing me to sit on the bed.

Myles pulled his duffle bag up next to me, slowly unzipping it to reveal collection of weapons. There were several automatic guns and big knives as well as typical construction tools; hammer, nails, pliers, even a saw. I frowned, forgetting about the pain as I tried to figure out why he had this assortment of tools. That's when it dawned on me. It's all part of a bigger plan. These are his torture weapons, but for who? For me...? No, he wouldn't waste all of these tools on me. He plans to go out with a bang.

He grinned while looking at me, recognizing the look of terror on my face.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

He stroked my face, grabbing it harder when I tried to pull away.

"I'm planning for the future baby, and we're going out together, with a flash." He chuckled at the look of horror on my face and slapped me against the head, hard enough to knock me out.

Ouch.