Where the hell did he come from? Better still, what the fuck is he doing out here?
The wheels of the ute spin as I regain my position on the road. I drive for more than ten kilometres with every possible thought plaguing me—that is, until I replay the call I took over in my head. I need to sort this, and fast. A hard left-hand turn has me on the final long stretch of road that will take me home. I take a breath and look for something to occupy my mind. Donna Martin. Red Number Three. Now that’s entertainment. I need the rush of endorphins. I need to watch her demise.
Every time she kicks inside the boot, I turn the music up a few clicks louder to drown her out. It takes an hour before she stops. They always give up in the end. They’re all guns blazing to start with, then dead on their arse in such a short period.
I laugh, amused.
When I see the Waltux sign in the distance, I slow my sedan, preparing to take the off-ramp. I merge left without any issues and cruise along a narrow street until I pull up in front of the petrol pumps. The orange needle on my gauge sits at a quarter full when I climb out of the car. Best I don’t risk running out of petrol before I see another fuel station. I take the nozzle from its holder.
Donna doesn’t make a sound as the fuel guzzles into the tank, but even if she did squeak or squawk it wouldn’t faze me. People are either too stupid to butt their noses in the business of others, or they believe any cock-a-bullshit story you tell them.
I hit the central locking button on the key tag, securing the car, and head into the small shop on site. I grab a snack and drink, and not one person in the building shows even the slightest awareness that they know what I’m harbouring—a woman who needs to be punished lies inside my boot. I snicker at the thought.
I mosey on back to my vehicle, prepared to commence the rest of my journey home.
A man wearing a fluorescent orange jacket approaches reluctantly and holds his hand up in a stop sign pose. He pauses when he reaches the bonnet. “I’m lost.” The man's eyes scan a device he has cupped in his hand.
“Oh.” I step towards him.
“I’m trying to get to Mackay, but I’m not sure which turn-off I need to take.” He points to a map enlarged on the screen when I reach him.
“This one, mate.” I smile, pointing at the screen.
His lips curl upwards. “Do I know you?” His eyebrows dip downward, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s trying to place me or if it is due to the harsh reflective rays bouncing off the bonnet. His eyes bounce back to mine. He stares. I guess he was thinking.
“Not sure, mate.” I offer a toothy grin.
“Thanks for your help.” He pats my shoulder and turns on his heel.
A high-pitched squeal has me whipping my head in the direction of the boot. I quickly rebound my vision to the man who had turned his back to me only moments ago.
“Mate.” The stranger twists on his thongs and eyes me with an air of concern.
“Yeah.” A look of guilt will raise questions. A soft smile will erase suspicion. I smile.
“Did you hear that?”
“Yeah, mate, I did.” I nod, and then look out to the vacant bushland beside the station. “I’m not sure where it came from though, are you?”
“No idea,” he says as he offers a half-hearted wave and turns his back to me once more.
Casually, I lift the handle and slip into the driver’s chair. I take my time putting my drink into the cup holder and my food onto the passenger seat before I turn the ignition. My knee cracks when I press my foot hard to the pedal and speed off, as chilled as a cucumber.
“Nobody will help you, Red,” I shout the moment I reach the one hundred-kilometre speed limit.
I can still remember the bold green scenery that flashed by me as I relaxed back in my seat and cranked out AC/DC songs like it was yesterday. If only I could go back and live each capture and kill over and over again. I sigh before drifting back into my memories.
Her legs wobble when I lift her by her arms. I wrap her hands in duct tape. I push her until she falls to the ground with an almighty rip-roaring scream.
The heat of the sun causes her pale freckled shoulders to pink as they take the brunt of the sun’s rays. Her head hangs downward, as I directed. I place my boot in the middle of her back, adjust my mask, then apply pressure, just a little to begin with, then more until her back makes cracking sounds and she groans out her agony.
“My knees.” She pants through loud sobs. “My knees are slicing open, stop.”
“This is just the beginning.”
My dick jumps inside my pants as I picture Donna there, submitted before me. I press down the indicator and take a left turn. “Oh, the memories.”
“Please. Please let me go.”
“Okay Red, you’re free to go. Let me just cut that tape off.” I toy with her.
“Really?” Her voice quivers.
“No, you dumb bitch.” I run my fingertips up her thigh, stopping at the bottom of her Daisy Dukes, breathing deeply into her ear.
She sucks in a harsh mouthful of air. “Please. No.”
“I’m bored with you, little lamb,” I whisper against her cheek.
She whines in response, which pisses me off.
“We’re going to play a game. Do you like games, Red?”
She shakes her head and howls out, “No.”
I slide my foot to the back of her head and use it to push her nose into the rocks. “I will ask you again. Do you like to play games, Red?”
“No,” she screams.
I drop to the ground just out of her arm’s reach. Everything I’ve been waiting for is in motion. Excitement whirls through my gut and shoots up into my chest. The need to hunt proliferates and sends adrenaline to my limbs.
How far will she get?
How far can I push her?
After all, I’m still perfecting my skills, and there’s so much more I want to try … to learn.
“You’ll be needing this,” I say, handing her the bag I’d prepared earlier. “Now remember, I’m always watching. Follow the path leading into the bushland, and you’ll find the first piece of your puzzle.”
I whistle as I tread away and climb back into the car.
I drive, leaving her stranded there, only I don’t go too far— just far enough that she can’t see me, but I can see her through the pair of binoculars I have to my eyes.
Donna retrieves the backpack as I sit, idling. She pinches it between her fingertips, her hands still bound in front of her. She never opens the bag. Instead, she stands and runs right into the bushland.
I cock my head and rub my chin. My last Red didn’t start this way. Instead, she’d sat on the ground for ages, crying non-stop.
“Hmmm,” I murmur.
Broad daylight was a gift for Donna. Red Number Two, Cheryl Riddell, had been dumped in the pitch black of night. I needed to experiment. I wanted to test out the difference of a daylight beginning over a night-time one, and it appeared a woman was less fearless of bushland under the harsh light of the sun. It’s just a matter of waiting to see the difference in how long they can play and how quickly they die.
I park the ute in front of my place and slam the car door hard on exit. Morgan is fucking with my entire schedule. I stomp into my cabin and head straight to the bedroom. When I reach the police scanner, I roll the dial between my fingertips until it can’t shift upwards any further. There’s a lot of chatter, but none of it is about the body I left for the coppers or Morgan Banks.
“Well, that’s disappointing,” I snarl.
I plonk onto the stool in front of the computer set up in the far corner of the room. Shifting the mouse gets the screen opened. Each finger hitting the keyboard has me one step closer to regaining my player. I type in the codes needed to run the GPS scan on the phone Morgan robbed from me; this is how I’ll find her. It’ll take a few hours, but soon she’ll be a sitting duck in a vast landscape.