occur.”
“Doesn’t it scare you just a little? Knowing there’s some guy out there hunting down his victims like that? Supposedly, he’s right here in this city with us. Doesn’t it bother you even a little?”
Howard paused for a long moment, his expression guarded, before he answered slowly. “Should I be scared? Besides, how do you know it’s a man behind these murders? It could just as easily be a woman or a group of people, a whole cult for that matter. These days, you never know.”
Jason turned to stare out his window, his eyes glistening with a combination of excitement, awe and fear. It was always this way before he took his next victim, before he plunged face first into the dark abyss of no return. He could feel his blood begin to heat within his veins and his body pulse with excitement. He needed this release more than he needed air to breathe, food to eat or even an hour’s worth of shuteye.
He needed this more than life itself.
“I don’t know, call it a hunch maybe. You know, they say he hacks up his victims piece by piece, slowly taking his time as he dissects them. They even say that he does it in such a way that his victims are alive the entire time. They feel everything; every slice of his knife, every limb being severed, maybe even for days on end. No one's ever lived to tell.”
“You sound like you admire his work,” Howard turned towards Jason, his eyes no longer focused on the road before him, but solely on the young man that sat in the car beside him. On this lonely stretch of road that was deserted in the middle of the night they were completely alone. It was just the two of them.
Jason held Howard's gaze, their eyes locking for what seemed an eternity as Jason slowly slid the knife from his side, his anticipation near palpable in the small confines of metal, glass and leather. It was time, only it wasn’t his time. Not now, not ever again.
Before Jason could free his blade from his jeans pocket, before he could make the brilliant metal sing against his prey’s flesh, stripping delicate flesh from bone, his eyes widened in horror as Howard’s long, narrow face contorted into a hideous rage.
The very last thing he saw was Howard’s slender fist barreling straight for his face, sending him sliding into the dark blanket of oblivion as bone slammed against bone and his nose shattered. Jason slid helplessly into a world of complete and utter darkness, the blade falling from his fingers without a single sound.
He awoke minutes, maybe hours later, not really sure, as he struggled helplessly against the ropes that were secured to his limbs, spreading his arms and legs wide to either side. Staring in horror at each bound wrist, his nose throbbed like wildfire. He began to fight at the rope bindings, but it was no use. He was tied to a bed in a darkened room, no idea where he was or what his captor wanted from him.
As if in answer to his silent question, the soft creak of hard-soled shoes sounded upon the floor as his captor emerged from the shadows. Howard stepped forward, his hands clasped before him as he smiled down into the face of his driving companion.
“Let me out of here you sick bastard,” Jason yelled at him, blood and spit spraying Howard’s face.
His grin only grew wider.
“Now, now,” he admonished as he knelt slowly beside Jason, their faces mere inches apart. He was so close that Jason could feel Howard’s hot breath tease at his own chilled flesh. Jason wondered if this was how each of his victims felt before he killed them.
Howard's slender fingers gently caressed Jason’s strong jawline, his blooded lips and even his shattered nose. His fingers were the long, slender fingers of a surgeon who was used to dissecting his patient’s at leisure.
They were the fingers of a madman.
“Please, let me go…” Jason whimpered, losing control of his bladder in that moment, his body betraying him completely.
“I watched you tonight. Did you know that?” Howard spoke softly, his fingers disappearing at his side for a moment, his movements quick and graceful. “I watched as you killed that woman, in the desert. The way you beat her to death with your bare hands, her screams fragrant nectar that filled the night air. I watched as you stood over her body, your hands wet with her blood and I wept. I knew that you of all people would truly appreciate my genius. I knew that you would recognize the man I am and not just the man they have made me into.”
“I didn’t mean to, it was an accident. She was just some stupid whore. I screwed up. I swear I didn’t mean to.” Jason lied through his teeth, pleading with the man who now held his life in his hands, the captor now the captive, praying he would believe him and just let him go yet knowing as Howard raised his hand high, the gleaming scalpel poised in his fingers, that his prayers would go unanswered.
“Let me introduce myself. I'm the Roadside Slasher and I've been waiting anxiously to make your acquaintance.”
Jason screamed as the scalpel slowly sliced through the tender flesh of his eyelid, Howard taking his time as he began to hum a slightly off-key version of “Nights in White Satin.”
We hope you have enjoyed Highway to Hell.
M.T. Acquaire is comprised of husband and wife writing duo, Matthew and Tanya Acquaire, authors of Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb: A Marty Boggs’ Paranormal Mystery.
You can visit us online at:
https://www.mtacquaire.com
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