Darkness had taken over the highway, and only the cars zooming by and the constant glare of headlights kept John awake. He needed to pull over and take another break. He was itching to get in the sleeper, but he’d have to deal with Jane first. Several hours had passed since he found that out-of-the-way place to park and spend a bit of quality time with her. He didn’t want to end things too quickly, but now her constant moaning from behind the closed curtains had begun to grate on his nerves. She needed to be silenced for good.
John turned the radio up a few clicks louder and rubbed a balled-up fist over his twitching left eye as he continued north on Interstate 57 toward Chicago. The background drone of the radio went from music to the current news. He reached for the channel selector but stopped when the segment caught his attention. State troopers were patrolling the interstates and state highways for a burgundy semi-tractor that had Ray’s Transport written on the doors in white lettering. They had asked the public to be watchful as they took to the freeways that night and to call in any sightings to the 1-800 tip line.
Damn it, they found the bodies already and somehow know what I’m driving.
John slammed his open hand against the steering wheel. He couldn’t make any quick moves. It might attract attention to the truck. He had to get off that busy freeway and fast, then find a side road to drive on. The semi had to be abandoned, but he needed another vehicle first. He cursed as he watched for a sign that showed how far the next exit was. He pulled into the far right lane and drove the speed limit. In that lane, only one door would be visible, plus he could scoot off the highway at the next ramp.
The green freeway sign overhead showed an exit for Thomasboro three miles ahead. John didn’t know anything about the area, only that he needed to get off the interstate. Driving on a less-traveled road was more important. He clicked his blinker and rode the ramp to the stop sign, then looked right and left, and decided left looked a bit darker and less populated. He turned the steering wheel on the big rig and drove slowly down the road. With his neck craned at every crossroad, he looked for a place to pull over and park the truck out of sight.
A dirt road caught his eye. He had no idea where it led, but if parked deep enough in, the truck would be well hidden, and he didn’t need a lot of time. He remembered seeing an all-night gas station and quick mart when he exited the highway. He’d jog back there, steal a car, and return to the truck for his supplies and Jane.
John cranked the wheel sharply to squeeze onto that narrow road. The area looked deserted as if that dirt road was there purely by accident. It would do just fine. Several hundred feet in, he shifted into Park then pulled open the curtain to check on Jane. He pulled the string on the ceiling light.
“Man, you look like hell, all bloody and shit.”
Her eyes bulged at the sight of him, and panic took over. She squirmed and moaned.
“Shut the hell up. I have to leave for a few minutes, but I’ll be right back. I don’t have time to deal with you now.” He checked her restraints and noticed that the sock had nearly fallen out of her mouth. “Think you’re smart, don’t you?” He shoved it back, deeper the second time, then taped her mouth closed. “There, now try to spit it out.”
John reached in his bag and pulled out the blood-stained skinning knife then stuffed it in his jacket pocket, turned off the light, closed the curtain, and shut down the truck. He climbed out and locked the semi behind him. With the zipper pulled to the top of his thin jacket and the collar lifted, he headed out. The night was cloaked in a brisk chill, but the jog would warm him up. That gas station stood on the corner about a mile back at the highway exit. He reached the intersection ten minutes later, panting and nearly out of breath. At the ramp, he crossed the road and ran to the back of the building, where he waited out of the glare of the brightly lit entrance. The six vehicles parked out front told him patrons were inside. He needed to be careful. Two empty cars sat at the pumps where they had been filled with gas. That made at least eight customers inside. A movement thirty feet to his left caught John’s eye. A man knelt at the front passenger tire of his car. The long air hose in his hand preoccupied him. The machine was located at the side of the building, away from other cars, and only one dimly lit bulb above the side door illuminated that space.
It was John’s best and only option. He crept closer until he was directly behind the man then grabbed the hose and twisted it around his neck. John pulled the double loop tightly and cut off the man’s airways before his thrashing attracted attention. He dropped the hose, grabbed the man’s head, and snapped his neck. The man fell silent and limp. With the man’s jacket bunched up in his hands, John dragged him behind the row of dumpsters. He waited and watched until the coast was clear. He crossed the pavement to the car and nonchalantly filled all the tires with air, neatly wound the hose, placed it back on the machine, then drove away. He glanced at the fuel tank and chuckled.
Way to go, man. You must have filled up the car just before I arrived. That should hold me over for a while.
From start to finish, John was gone less than an hour. He pulled ahead of the truck and parked. He had only a few minutes—he couldn’t be caught lingering. He climbed the two steps, unlocked the door, and got in. He needed only his backpack, the blankets, food, the plastic bag containing Ray’s belongings, and Jane. All the supplies were placed inside the car, then he went back for the girl. John knew he’d have to subdue her, or moving her to the car would take too long. He climbed into the bunk and grabbed her by the head then pinched her nose closed until she passed out. He had far better plans to share with her when they had more time. He untied her, pulled her out of the truck, and then threw her in the trunk of the car. He hog-tied her hands and legs together with the duct tape, slammed the trunk lid, and drove to a spot where he could turn around. With a final look at the truck, he drove by slowly and backtracked to the highway. He continued his route north on Interstate 57 with Jane secured in the trunk.