Chapter Ten: Sinister?




The stench was vivid. Death was quite a potent smell, one you could and would only associate with madness. As the body slowly deteriorated the smell seemed to become stronger. Death had touched him. Stupid old fool. And now he was begging to smell, a toxic mix of vodka and stale blood, and god, he was heavy. Drag marks plagued the water sogged ground beneath his fat ass.

“Lazy barstad” a voice mumbled under a hushed toned. It was the fat barstads fault his fat ass was been dragged through the dense water sogged everglade. He shouldn’t have been nosy, shouldn’t have stuck his nose where it wasn’t wanted. People always did that, tried to put themselves where they weren’t wanted, well, the fat barstad paid for it, like she would. She pay for it too, but for a different reason, a very different reason.

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Catherine paced through the motel room, she was missing something, but what? She still couldn’t figure out how they were onto her, had she slipped up somewhere? She forced herself to remember every conversation, every look, there had to be something.
“Shit” she cursed, she couldn’t figure it out, she was missing something so obvious that it drove her mad, but what?
“House keeping” a voice announced outside the door as a clenched fist pounded on the wood
“No thanks” Catherine called back
Footsteps moved away from the door.
“Papers on the mat”
Catherine grunted a response and shoveled toiletry items into her bag. She’d left with little, well aware there’d be an all out hunt for her. She would need to leave again soon. The owner had seen her, and she was sure they would check all the motels along the interstate. She had to move fast, always one step ahead. But somehow, this time she’d misjudged, as they were ahead of her, because they knew who they were looking for.

************************************

Faith idly placed the washing into the machine item by item when she heard the distinctive clunk of metal against metal. She reached in and removed a pair of Brian’s jeans, she checked the pockets and pulled out a small matchbox car. She starred at it for a moment, it was similar to the one left on the doorstep, but Brian hadn’t kept it and this one was red. She peered at it closer then ran her nail gently across the surface, it was paint, red paint.
“Something up?” Brian questioned from behind Faith, startling her
“Did you buy this?” she inquired holding the painted car in her flattened palm
“Not me”
“It was in your jeans”
“Never seen it before babe, you don’t look to well”
She chucked the car into the basin and slid past Brian.
“Something strange is going on” she muttered to herself as she folded into one of the dining chairs

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The sound of scraping wood was interesting. It was reminiscent of screaming. A lonely dull scream, a last ditch effort to live. That sound was familiar, one heard many times. A person buried alive had done that. A smile drew across a hardened face. She’d made that nose, like a stuffed pig, squealing as shovel by shovel her life was taken away.

The thin smile disappeared and was replaced with a perfectly still mouth. What sound would she make? Squeal? Cry? Beg? Whatever sound that was made would surely bring satisfaction.

************************************

Faith keeled over in sudden pain.
“Faith” Brian shouted, running to her side
“The baby” she whispered, “Something’s wrong”

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Brian paced nervously around the hospital hall. It had been over 2 hours since he’d bought Faith in. They taken her straight to the emergency ward, and for two hours Brian was left not knowing.
“Mr Littrell?” a tall thin man inquired over the top of his black framed glasses
“That’s me, how is she?”
“Stable”
“What happened?”
“We’re still not sure, from what I gather she’s been under a lot of stress, we can put it down to that, or overexertion, your wife needs to rest”
Brian managed a thoughtful nod, but he knew Faith couldn’t bare to lie around.
“It’s nothing else?” Brian queried a thought still lodged in the back of his head
“I’m aware of your history, but no, I don’t think anything sinister about this, share stress is to blame”



Chapter 11
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