Victor’s first day in Boone was a bust. He sat outside the bike shop all day and CamaroChick19 did not work. He had found a parking place that gave him a view of both the front door and the side entrance into the business parking lot. His space was on the street where he hoped he might draw less attention. Boone was smaller than Charlotte, and he understood being noticed was potentially a problem. As far as he was aware, just sitting in your car on a public street was not a crime, so what could they do?
The waiting had been frustrating. When the bike shop closed that night without Amanda showing up for work, Victor found a nearby Walmart and spent the night in the Buick. A lot of truck drivers and RVs overnighted in their parking lots. No one would pay any attention to him. Fortunately, Boone had strong cell signal so Victor was able to stream videos until he fell asleep.
He'd noticed the sign on the front door yesterday stating the shop opened at 8 AM. He was back in position at 7:45 AM, watching both doors. He sat there all morning, nibbling at what remained of his road snacks and the food he brought from home. When the urge hit him, he peed in his empty soda bottles then tossed them into the back seat.
Around noon, he decided to get out of the vehicle and stretch his legs. He walked by the bike shop, down to the end of the block, then turned around. He didn’t do much walking or anything physical at all. That was as far as he was willing to commit to. He turned around and walked back. On his return trip he saw her.
She’d parked a Jeep Wrangler in the gravel parking lot beside the bike shop and was heading toward the side door. Victor was less than fifty feet from her. Fifty feet from the girl who’d so disrupted his life. He froze in his tracks.
She noticed him, as a young woman might notice any man who stopped in the streets to stare at her, but there was no recognition in her eyes. If there was recognition, there was certainly no acknowledgment. She’d given no indication at all she knew who he was.
Victor looked away from her and started walking toward his car. His anxiety shot through the roof and he was breathing hard. He was on the verge of a full-fledged panic attack and could not figure out why. He unlocked the car door and climbed inside.
He slouched in the driver seat, sweat pouring from his face and rolling down his neck. He went to wipe his forehead and brush his hair back, surprised, yet again, to find his hair gone. He picked up a used McDonald's napkin from the floor and mopped at his head with it.
His mind was a scrolling screen of data he couldn’t lock long enough to read. Why did he feel this way? Why was he flipping out at the sight of this girl? His mother and Stanley were dead. They were the people he hated the most. They were his oppressors. So why was he having such as reaction to this young woman he barely knew?
Then he understood.
It wasn’t just the girl. It was everything that came with her. It was what she brought down on him. She’d ridden into his life like one of the horsemen of the apocalypse, bringing plague and pestilence upon him.
All that had happened to him in the last week could be tracked back to his interaction with CamaroChick19. Had he not been obsessively communicating with her and using his phone at work, he might still have a job. Admittedly, he was on his phone a lot before she came along. The times he was communicating with her were not the only times he was sitting at the desk goofing off when he should've been working. There was no escaping that at that particular time it was his interaction with her that got him in trouble.
It was her who brought up the flash mob videos. It was through watching those videos and following them through the bottomless internet video wormhole he found the knockout game videos. It was those videos that inspired him to set up an attack on his former employer. That attack led to jail.
Had he not gone to jail, he would never have had been bailed out and found himself at Stanley's mercy. He would never have killed Stanley. Had he not killed Stanley, he would not have had to kill his own mother, although admittedly, the bitch deserved it. Now that she was gone, he wondered why he hadn’t had the balls to do it years ago. The freedom was exhilarating.
Still, to some extent, all of it, from the job loss, to the knockout game, to jail, and the two murders, was CamaroChick19’s fault. All the trouble she’d caused him and she had the audacity to act like she didn’t know him?
He was certain she had seen him. How could she not? She'd watched his videos, commented on them. She had to know what he looked like, and it wasn’t like he looked any different now.
Oh shit.
Wait…he did look different.
Since he’d posted those videos, Stanley had cut his hair and beard off. His most recognizable features, his massive hair and his distinctive beard, were gone. That must be it. That was why she didn't recognize him.
For a moment he thought about starting the car and driving off, aborting the mission. He’d either go home or find some other place to crash out for a while and get his head together. Yet that was not why he'd come there. He needed to man up and confront her. It wasn’t like they were strangers. They had a relationship for God’s sake.
Victor shoved the car door open and maneuvered his bulk from beneath the steering wheel. He walked toward the entrance to the bike shop taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself. He had never been in a shop like this in his life so he didn't know how to act. Did you look around or go to the counter and let them wait on you?
He lurched through the door and stopped expectantly in the shop. Rather than looking at the merchandise like a typical customer, he glared wide-eyed at CamaroChick19. She looked up at him with concern in her eyes, clearly recognizing him from the parking lot. He could not take his eyes from her, the animated and living manifestation of so many things that had happened to him. So many things he’d thought about.
"Can I help you?”
The voice was beside him and startled Victor. He turned almost mechanically, unnaturally, and saw the young man standing beside him. He was wearing a T-shirt that matched CamaroChick19’s. He must work there.
"Can I help you?" the young man repeated.
Victor snapped back to reality. "Just l-looking,” he stammered.
The young man continued to stare at Victor with suspicion. "Let me know if I can help you with anything."
Victor nodded. "I will."
He walked away from the young man and made an awkward loop through the aisles, looking but not seeing anything except CamaroChick19 from the corner of his eye. She and the young man were huddled together now, talking conspiratorially, talking about him. What else would they be talking about?
Victor had always been awkward in social interactions and had never had a close friend. He couldn't read body language enough to know what was going on with those two. Was this guy her boyfriend? Was that why she didn't respond to him? No, it had to be the difference in his appearance. She just clearly couldn't recognize him.
He quickly realized there was not enough in the store to justify extended browsing. He would either have to interact with the salespeople or leave. Was leaving really an option?
Not when all of his life was coming down to this. Where else could he be right now but here in this very spot looking CamaroChick19 in the eye?
This was where it all came together. This was the tip of the blade. There was no way to go but forward.
Victor strode to the counter and stood across from CamaroChick19. He looked her in the eye and she returned his gaze expectantly.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Do I look familiar at all?”
Amanda shrugged. “No.”
“I used to have more hair. And a beard.”
“What color?” Amanda asked.
“Black. With some red in it.”
Amanda shook her head again. “No, I definitely would have remembered. I just moved here though.” She was trying her best to be friendly, to be professional.
“Not from here,” Victor said, “from the internet. Online. I do videos.”
“I’m not a big video watcher,” Amanda said.
Victor sighed loudly, looking down at the counter to gather himself. He was irritated. He was losing it. He couldn’t tell if she was intentionally lying to him or just playing games or what. It made no sense. Why would she reach out to him, talk about their connection, and then look right through him like he was nobody?
The young man stepped over beside the girl. “What can we help you with? Are you wanting to rent a bike? You wanting to buy something?”
Victor looked at the young man. Was he part of it too?
“Do I look like I want to rent a fucking bike? I was four hundred pounds last time I weighed myself. I haven’t been on a bike since I was five or six years old.” Victor glared at Ben.
“Then if we can’t do anything for you, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Ben said. “You’re using bad language and you’re making my employee uncomfortable.”
Victor tensed up. He recalled the pleasure he’d experienced in striking his old boss. He recalled the near ecstatic experience of killing Stanley. What would it feel like to kill this young man?
Then he recalled he wasn’t armed. He hadn’t been thinking clearly when he left home and he’d neglected to bring one of his knives with him. If he’d remembered it, this moment would be different. He would have spilled blood.
Ben reached beneath the counter and pulled out a walkie-talkie. He keyed the transmit button. “Dad, Mom, can you come to front please? Code Blue.”
It was a code established when he was a kid working at the store. His parents told him if there were ever situations he couldn’t manage, he should call Code Blue and they would immediately come to his aid.
“Code Blue?” Victor asked.
When Amanda and Ben came in to start their shifts, Ben’s parents retreated to the back to tend to the business end of things while the part-timers tended the customers. At the mention of Code Blue, they hurried to the front. They anticipated an angry customer wanting a refund or that one of the rental bikes was broke down on the trail and a rider required assistance. What they did not expect was a large, menacing young man with a shaved head and dressed all in black.
“Can I help you?” Penny asked, her husband standing behind her, still trying to figure out what was going on.
“This gentleman is using bad language and making Amanda feel uncomfortable,” Ben said. “He doesn’t seem interested in bikes. He only seems interested in Amanda.”
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Penny said.
Victor regarded each of the four, one at a time. He assessed them, feeling the strength and aggressiveness of DeathMerchant6o6o6 fill his body. He was no longer the meek Victor Hesse. He was no longer the spineless, cowering, weak child.
“And if I don’t?”
Amanda picked up the cordless phone from the counter. “We’ll call the police. They’re only a few blocks away. They’ll be here before you reach your car.”
Victor looked Amanda in the eye. “I don’t know what happened, CamaroChick19. I thought we had something. I thought we were friends. I thought it was the start of something. I thought we had a future.”
“I don’t even know you,” Amanda said, her face twisting in utter confusion.
“Don’t speak to him,” Ben said. “He needs to go. Now.”
Victor turned and walked away. He felt like turning over a display or doing something destructive but he was too devastated. His one human connection had cut ties with him and he didn’t understand why. He had nothing left.
Outside, he made a beeline for his mother’s car and got behind the wheel. When he looked up, Ben and his father were standing on the sidewalk, the kid taking a picture of the car and license plate. Victor wanted to react but did not have the energy.
For nearly a week, Victor and DeathMerchant6o6o6 had been fighting for control of his body. Sometimes DeathMerchant was in charge and made bold, violent decisions. Other times Victor was in charge and he wanted to curl up in a fetal position. It was clear something had to change, but Victor did not know how to bring it about.
There was only one answer. One option.
Victor had to go.
He had to let DeathMerchant6o6o6 take control once and for all. Apparently, this was not the moment because Victor could still take the reins. He prayed there’d be a moment when that was no longer an option. He prayed for the DeathMerchant to fill his body like an invading virus and drive out the weakness.