The Next Victim

Another story that I have written recently.

Now, I don't normally write bar scenes (this is the first I'v written), but this story would not do in any other setting. I'm not going to tell you to enjoy this story, because it is slightly sad, but please try to bare with it. It is the first of it's kind that I have written.

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Rock music played silently in the dark background of the bar, and three men with beers talked together at a small table in a corner as they played a friendly game of cards.

He hardly noticed. He only stared at his rough hands with twisted claws on them that were still stained with a little blood.

“What’ll ya have ta drink?” The bar tender asked nonchalantly as he wiped out a glass with the towel over his shoulder.

“Beer.” He replied to the bar tender “No. A bottle of Jack Daniels.” He changed his mind. He wanted something heavier to wash away the memories from earlier.

“Coming right up.” The bar tender pulled a bottle out from under the bar and set it down. He popped the lid then slid the bottle down to its soon-to-be consumer.

He grabbed the bottle and stared at it a moment. In the dim light it almost looked like a bottle of blood. He tipped the bottle and took a swig, then grimaced. Surely, after a few bottles, that would do the trick. The only job that he could hold down- the only job that he liked, he hated at the same time. He wanted to forget it. Hunting, tracking, killing- he loved the thrill, the smell of blood, but it was the memories and the screams that haunted him later. To be honest, he hated the killing, but he was addicted to it. Addicted like a mad bear after it has tasted blood. He could not stop. He was afraid that if he tried, he would actually murder someone in cold blood someday. Not that what he was doing now was any different, but the job he had, paid for his drinks afterward, and his boss made sure that it was legal for him to do the dirty work, so he never had to worry about actually killing the labeled ‘innocent’.

“Political figures.” He spat under his breath as he took another heavy swig from the bottle. He paused briefly as he felt the presence of another person fixing to come into the bar, then he took another drink.

The outside door opened.

Bingo. He was never wrong. He smiled slightly. It always tickled him to be right.

“Hey Cap!” A cheerful female voice said as the door closed.

He shot at glance at the figure approaching, but did not turn his head. Surprise bolted through him at the sound and smell of this woman, making him feverish. That alone surprised him. It had been some time since he had been in the presence of a woman, but not that long. Women did not normally affect him in such a strange way, if at all. There was something different about this girl.

“Oh no! Not you again!” The bar tender said loudly while covering his face with his hands.

The woman, all smiles, sidled up to the bar and sat two seats away from him “Oh come on Cap!” she said jokingly.

The bar tender planted his hands firmly on the bar “Don’t say that to me! I am still making repairs from the last time you busted up my bar! Every time you come in here I have to make repairs later!”

She, that little woman, busted up this bar? Now that was something new to hear.

“Oh! Not every time I come in; only every other time. You know how I am when I see a creep. I just can’t help myself. And your bar does seem to draw in a lot of creeps.” She winked. Her face seemed to glow as she winked and her eyes twinkled with fun.

Cap shook his head “I should feel sorry for the poor creep. He can’t help it that my bar is the nearest in 50 miles. He just wants a drink and then YOU walk in here and smash his head in- on MY BAR.”

“Oh Cap. Surely I’m not all that bad!”

“You ain’t. But you ain’t doing a service to mankind by using the head of every creep you see to smash up MY bar!”

She laughed. Such a beautiful, happy laugh- unlike anything he had ever heard.

Cap grinned and slapped the bar “What’ll ya have? The usual?”

“Yes please.” She nodded.

Cap held up a finger and stooped down. He pulled a bottle labeled ROOT BEAR from under the bar and popped the lid off “It is on the house, so long as you don’t bust up my bar tonight.” He winked as he handed her the bottle.

“Okay. I will do my best.” She smiled “Thanks”

Cap nodded then walked down the bar and disappeared through a door into a back room.

That is when he noticed he had his whole face turned to look at her with an unblinking stare. He could not help it. Something about her attracted him.

He judged her to be just a little over 5 foot tall. She had loose, wind-blown brown hair that fell to her waistline. She was dressed in a pair of dirty jeans that were too long for her and a large red plaid flannel shirt with a piece missing from its sleeve over a black tank top. Her cowboy boots were muddy and scuffed, and a pair of worn gloves poked out of her back pocket. Her face, however, was beautiful. Even being covered with dried sweat and filth from a hard day’s work, he could see the beauty. When she smiled, it made her eyes dance and her face to glow.

She tipped her bottle and took a drink then snapped her head toward him “And what are you looking at?” She asked.

He shrugged “You tore up this bar?”

She shrugged “No, I tore up some guys. They tore up the bar. But why so interested?”

“It would be the first time that I have heard of such a thing.”

She laughed “Oh, well, you don’t get out much then.”

“Actually I do.” He said in a sullen tone as he turned back to his glass.

The two of them were quiet for a moment until he glanced back at her.

“You know, you are on the borderline of creep.” She told him when he looked at her.

He chuckled “So are you going to wipe my face across the floor?”

“No. Not unless you ask for it.” She said. She stood up and slid into the seat next to him.

Even though he was a good 6 inches away from her, he nearly felt overwhelmed by her presence and the thought of her being within touching distance.

“And because you are to the point- honest. I can respect that.” She added.

He snorted with a weak smile “Honest? Respect? That does not fit into my personality.”

“I think it does.” She said as she took another swig from her bottle.

“And why do you think such?”

She looked him straight in the eye which sent chills up and down his spine. He did not know if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. His natural reaction was to recoil then strike when someone activated such a feeling in him, but he contained himself, only gripping his glass tighter and curling his free hand into a fist. He refused to lower his eyes from hers, but he leaned his body back away from her.

“I think so, because your very presence demands it.” She said after staring at him a moment “And because it comes out in your own words and in your voice.”

She spoke the words with such certainty, that it floored him. She also spoke them in such a soft tone, that he felt himself softening- becoming allured to her. He tried to put himself on guard, but found it a difficult task. He felt a new wave of guilt and anger wash over himself as her words sunk into him.

“If you really knew me- knew what I did, you would not be saying that.” He had a hard time keeping his tone of voice controlled as he spoke.

She looked away and took another drink from her A&W Root Beer bottle “Really? Well, what is the worst that you could be? A murderer, or assassin?”

Her words hit him like a hundred pounds of cold ice. How could she know? Or was it just a random guess that she made?

“But even if that is the case, even if you are the most ruthless man in the world, you still demand respect, and you are still honest in everything that you say. Actions are beside the point.” She took another drink from her bottle “And usually what comes from the mouth, also comes out in one’s personality. And if you implement those qualities into your actions, how long can you really stay a ‘ruthless wretch’?”

Both of them were silent for a moment, only the music playing in the background as she took steady drinks from her bottle and stared at a display on the other side of the bar.

He was still on edge from hearing the word ‘murderer’, but her last words did not go unheard.

“You speak more truth than you realize.” He finally said quietly.

“Oh, and don’t I know it.” She smiled and looked back at him.

He stared into her eyes for a long moment. So calm, so certain, so gentle; her sparkling eyes were hypnotizing to say the least.

She looked away and back at her nearly empty bottle. She held her bottle up in a salute “May honesty live forever, for with it comes respect.” She tipped it back and drank the last bit. She gave him a friendly wink then stood. She walked down the bar a ways, leaned over it, and dropped her bottle into the trash.

“I’m outa here Cap.” She called.

“See ya later girl.” The bar tender said as he came back to clean more glasses.

She began to walk to the door “See ya Tiger. Don’t get too down on yourself.” She said as she walked by him.

He smiled slightly and watched her until she disappeared out the door into the cool, dark night.

The bar tender chuckled after a moment, reminding him that he was still staring at the closed door.

“That Kate McGraffy. She is something else, isn’t she?” Cap asked.

He snapped his head back to the bar tender, not wanting to believe what he had just heard “Who is she? What did you say her name was?” He asked, half standing from his seat.

Cap paused, shocked at the desperate tone in which those words had been said “Kate. Kate McGraffy. That’s her name.”

He slumped back into his seat, staring into nothingness as the color faded from his face. His heart sank lower than his seat; into the very pit of hell itself.

The bar tender, unsure what to do, poured another glass of whisky then began to wipe the bar down.

He blinked and slowly reached into his trench coat pocket. He pulled out a torn piece of red plaid shirt and a sheet of folded paper. As he unfolded the paper, a photo fell out, cutting his heart into a thousand pieces.

She was on the photo, smiling. The scrap of plaid shirt had her scent on it. The paper held her name and the promise of payment.

She was his next victim.