Prey (4 page)

Simon lay
sprawled out on his back. His lower limbs spanned out to cover the
width of the duvet. Crimson splashes decorated the top half of the
bed.

“
You fool!” The young woman gagged on her words. She dry heaved
and rose the back of one hand to wipe at her mouth. Her eyes
stuttered, but refused to stray any distance.

His bathrobe
lay wide open. Crimson saliva bubbled from between his weak,
flexing lips and streamed over his chin. Just below, a gaping rent
peeked out from between the man's panicked fingers; his digits
clutched in desperation to ebb the scarlet torrent. His eyes
swelled in the sockets, like those of a deer with its throat viced
between the jaws of a hungry lion.

She leaned to
one side, just in time, and puked. Her knees gave out and she
collapsed to the floorg. She gasped for air. The fetid stench of
copper, excrement and her own vomit forced her to wretch another
foamy load on the carpet.

A low, gurgling
growl filled the room.

She stretched
her neck to see peek the top of the bed. With an outstretched
finger she wiped the contents of her stomach from her lips.

The middle-aged
man's limbs twitched. His fingers loosened their grip and lost all
strength. His lungs emptied and the growl whimpered out. He
continued to gawk with cold, stiff eyes. lifeless eyes.

Susan's neck
jutted forward and steam erupted from between her lips, as her
throat convulsed and found nothing else to expel.

She reached
toward the edge of the bed and hesitated. Her attentions moved to
the surface of the dresser. She pulled herself up off the floor and
balanced her weight on planted palms. Her nose twitched against the
vulgar odours. Tears trickled over her cheeks.

With her breath
wheezing in her lungs, Susan walked her hands across the top of the
chest of drawers. Her feet followed, a little less steady. She
turned to face the window and propelled herself towards it. Her
fingers found the cold, wooden surface and she pressed her face to
the chill of the glass.

Outside,
everything but the top of a tree, bathed in the light from the
bedroom, slept in darkness.

She fiddled with the latch and, after long seconds, unfastened
it and swung the pane out into the night.
Fresh air.
She gasped the scent of
damp grass into her respiratory system until she wobbled, light
headed, and almost collapsed.

She narrowed
her eyes and peered into the darkness. Her tongue licked around the
inside of her mouth and she spat salty bile to the ground below.
The heave of her chest slowed and the desperation of her gasps
reduced. The young woman broadened her shoulders and inhaled a
lungful of the cold night. Her fingers trembled as she darted her
eyes from side to side, searching for a plan of action.

The knife.
Renewed panic racked her
body.

She attempted
to dry her eyes with the backs of her hands. Her limbs tensed with
fearful adrenaline. She twisted her hips and turned back to the
body on the bed. Her pupils criss-crossed the chaos with lightning
speed. They paused to repeat the process a little slower.
Nothing.

Pinching her nose between a thumb and forefinger, she edged
forward until the tips of her toes bumped against the base of the
bed. She searched again. Nothing.
Fuck.

Her brow
wrinkled and she chewed the inside of her cheek. She tightened her
eyelids against the watery, blurring orbs inside. Her attentions
turned back to the window and she filled her lungs with a few
frantic gasps.

The petite
woman shivered and a resigned sigh escaped her throat. She turned
on her heels and bounded around the bottom of the bed. Reaching the
other side, she tore the pillow from its place and jumped back as
the familiar handle glared back at her. Bloodless. She wrinkled her
features in confusion.

She wavered
trembling fingers in front of her and lowered them as if offering
food to the snarling teeth of a dangerous animal. They brushed
against the wood and stalled. She slid down over the ridges and
wrapped a trembling grip around the weapon, pulling it free from
its hiding place.

The light of
the room formed shards on the edge of the blade. Bloodless. Unused.
Innocent.

How... what did he use?
Her thoughts
fled in terror.

Susan leapt
around with such ferocity that her ankles ached under the thud of
her heels. She threw the weight of her body against the door and
slammed it shut. A few items on the dresser rattled from the
wood-on-wood impact. Her eyes jolted in erratic patterns, the
vision hampered by over-active tear ducts. Searching. Hoping. They
bulged against the sockets and threatened to burst free.

Struggling to
breathe, through a mixture of panic and the scratching scent of a
violent murder, she sprang to the other end of the chest of
drawers, sweeping the top bare with a sweeping forearm.

She pushed her knees against the furniture and pushed. It
moved, but not a lot. Her features ached as she flexed them in
rage. She surged forward.
Half way.
She filled her lungs and choked as the rank air
raped her senses.

A guttural,
gurgling screech reverberated between the walls. Using every last
ounce of strength she had, and some she didn't know about, she
jammed the bulky dresser against the door.

She collapsed
in a heap. Her eyes blinked to retain consciousness. Her breath
rasped in her throat, and tearful spittle foamed from the corners
of her mouth.

Her eyes refused to budge from the bulk of the dresser. She
watched for any movement. Any sound. Any...
one
. Her fingers clenched into fists
and she pushed herself up onto her knees.

She ground her
teeth and attempted to pull herself to her feet. It failed. She
flopped back down and seethed in agony, as lactic acid burned in
her muscles and joints. Sweat bled from her hairline and drenched
red-hot flesh of her face. It mingled with the salinity which
flowed from her eyes.

The door and
dresser remained still. Like the body on the bed. Dead.

Susan's breasts
jiggled. Her heart hammered like a pneumatic drill within the
prison of her ribcage. The towel lay around her waist and thighs.
She squeezed and scrunched the thick material against her palms for
better grip. A hard gulp racked her throat and she pinched her
shoulders to aid the gesture. She coughed and the remainder of the
tears in her mouth sprayed from her lips in a mist.

With meticulous
movements, she crawled her fingers up over the top of the chest of
drawers, until her palms spanned out across the hard surface. The
muscles in her forearms flinched. She struggled to her feet. They
faltered. Her torso hugged at the cabinet, giving her legs time to
acclimatize.

The door, and
hall outside, loomed in silence.

The young woman
managed to stand. Tears streamed from the taut lids of her eyes.
She reached down to the floor and gathered up the mass of the towel
from around her ankles. Swiping its dry folds over her face, she
removed the moist hindrance from her vision and blinked hard. A
loud snort rang out from her nostrils.

She fumbled her
way back to the window, pushing it as wide-open as her arms could
stretch. Her eyes squinted to make out the ground below. She dabbed
at them again with the towel and shook her head from side to side.
Her teeth bit into the fragile flesh of her bottom lip, as if in
rebuke, and as the coppery taste of blood trickled over her tongue,
the tears stopped. She gave one last wipe and returned her gaze to
the world outside.

A smattering of rain still pierced the night sky. Clouds
blocked out the glow of the moon, making most of the surroundings
fade into shadows and nothingness. No movement. No other houses
within shouting distance.
Or screaming
distance.
She appraised the distance to the
ground and her fingers fidgeted on the sill, as she rolled her eyes
back to the heavens, as if searching for inspiration.

Her tongue flitted across the back of her teeth as she
pondered the possibilities. She returned her gaze to the darkness
below. Her fingers worked their way up over the sides of the window
frame, testing the grip. She paused. Her features darkened as she
pictured herself laying on the dark, wet grass below. Injured.
Crippled. Vulnerable to an attacker.
Dead?
She ripped back her hands as if
from the flames of a fire, and the tears returned.

She turned around and scanned the room again. A flicker of
light caught her eye, from the floor just beyond the nearest edge
of the dresser. She leapt the short distance and clamped the handle
between her fingers so tight, they ached. Her gaze continued to
search.
Anything.

Her eyes sprang
to life. A single thought pierced the young woman's mind. She
pinched her nostrils and edged toward the body. Using the blade of
the knife, she checked his dressing gown pockets. Nothing. She
moved to the bottom of the bed and spotted the clothing. Her toes
flicked at the pile of material. She peered into the bundle.
Something hard nudged at the sole of one foot.

She dropped to
her knees and almost tore the trouser pocket open. Her fingers
found cold, hard plastic. She pulled the item out and her tears
trickled between the trembling smile of her lips.

The LCD display
of the mobile phone glowed with various colours.

Her eyes darted
to various points on the readout. Battery: half full. Signal: full.
She peeled back her lips and revealed a bemused grin. Her forearm
swiped across her eyes to clear her view.

Struggling to
steady her hand, Susan prodded at the small buttons of the device.
9... 9... 9. She pulled the phone to her ear and waited.

The dial tone
rang out like a bugle at a victory parade.

She
straightened herself up, a renewed vigour in her joints.
“Hello?”

“
Police, Ambulance or Fire Brigade?” the tinny voice at the
other end asked.

“
Police,” she begged. The growing stench of the room caught her
senses. “Police
and
ambulance.”

A muffled
click.

The prostitute
swallowed so hard, she almost choked.

“
Police.” A monotone, male voice.

“
Please help. Please.” Her knees gave out. She landed in a heap
on the floor, her fingers clinging for dear life to the phone and
knife.

“
I need to know where you are and what the problem is,
Miss.”

“
He's dead.” She spat her words out, spraying the buttons of
the phone with a mixture of tears and saliva. “Someone killed
him.”

“
The address, Miss, I'm going to need the address.” The man
spoke in a level, calm voice.

She froze. “The
address?” Her shoulders sagged and the phone almost slipped from
her grip..

“
Are you at home, Miss?”

“
No. I don't... “ Her words cut off. She swivelled around on
her hips and rested the knife on her thigh. Her free hand probed
the pockets of the man's trousers. She sighed aloud as they found a
wallet. “Just a second.”

The policeman
waited.

She tore the
wallet open, ripping at the compartments and seeking out some form
of ID. A high pitched squeal erupted from her throat. A driver's
license.

She held the
piece of plastic in front of her face and read off the address to
the officer on the phone.

“
I'm going to need more details, Miss. Are you alone in the
house? Are you sure your friend is dead?”

She ended the
call. Her muscles relaxed and renewed aches and pains palpitated
through them. She rested her eyes for a few seconds and tapped the
handle of the knife with an outstretched finger.

The marching
band behind her ribs reduced to a twenty one gun salute. She sucked
in a lungful of stale, repulsive air and gagged. The moment snapped
her back to reality.

With an effort
which stretched her eyes in surprise, she jumped up to her feet and
bounded to the window. Her elbows rested on the sill as her gaze
stabbed through the darkness. She twitched her ears, readying them
for the wail of the siren. Her feet squirmed in the carpet, as she
waited.

In the
distance, a light glared through some trees. It snaked around
various corners.

Susan's heart
leapt into her mouth. She locked her gaze onto the beam, praying
for the accompanying siren.

The luminance
faded and disappeared.

She bit her
lip, sucking in air through her teeth as nibbled at a split in the
skin of her lip. “Come on!” She pushed her head and shoulders out
into the night, twisting to look in all directions. Nothing. She
exhaled through her nose and wiped at the sticky fluid which
escaped with it.

A shiver
slashed through the young woman's body. She became aware of her
nakedness and turned to face the bundle of her clothing. Near the
door. Near the attacker. She quivered at the thought.

She tiptoed to
the nearest corner of the cabinet, her eyes never leaving the door.
Silence. She edged further still. Her fingertips crept along the
solid surface. The clothing ruffled around her toes and she swept
down to pick them up in her arms. Her breath wheezed through her
lungs as she raced back to the safety of the window.

“
Ah!” She dropped her eyes to the toes of one foot, cursing
under her breath at the searing pain. The knife lowered to the
sill, before her fingers rushed to knead at the tender skin. She
spotted the offending object. With an angry kick, she cleared the
aftershave bottle under the bed. Her gaze faltered as she
remembered the shoes. She shot a glance to the other side of the
bed, but shook the thought off.
No
way.