Dead Stop (13 page)

The trucker
kicked and thrashed, but his struggles grew weaker by the second. Rachel held
on for as for as long as he moved. She knew he was dying...and she could do
nothing to save him…but still the woman clung to his legs for all she was
worth. All she could think of was refusing to let him go to the animals out
there in the dark until he was too far gone to ever know.

After another
minute, Leaping Larry stopped moving.

She knew it
hadn’t been much, but at least the man had died knowing somebody had held on
till the very end.

Now she changed
tactics.

Gathering her
feet under her, and trying not to slip in the amazing amount of blood now
covering the tiles, she started pushing the trucker’s corpse out the door.

“What are you
doing?” the young redneck cried in horror, still pulling for all he was worth
on the man the waitress still clung to.

“He’s dead!”
Rachel yelled. “I’m giving him to them!”

“WHAT!?”

“I’m giving them
his body,” she gasped with exertion and pushed harder on the corpse. To her
relief she saw more hands snag on to it. “The more of them that grab it means
the less that are pulling against you!”

A second later
the older trucker released the girl and helped her push the corpse forward
through the opening. Even more arms grabbed it, and Rachel let go as it started
to move of its own volition through the gap. Then the veterinarian and the
older man grabbed the girl and the man she protected and pulled for all they
were worth.

The things
outside held for a moment longer, then the injured man’s body and legs slid in
through the door and into the back hall. The waitress tried to slam the door
shut with her foot but a couple of intruding hands pushed back.

“We’re not
done!” she yelled, “We’ve got to close the door!”

But even as she
said it, the young man and the older trucker slammed their bodies into the
door. Two hands were still inside, and bone crunched as the metal door closed
on the wrists. For a moment, Rachel wondered how they were going to free the
doorway but the matter took care of itself.

Apparently the
owners of the appendages must have been more interested in the corpse outside
than getting in through the door. One of them managed to somehow pull its
damaged hand back through the narrow crack in the door…peeling the skin off
like a fleshy glove as it did. The other simply tore itself free from the
trapped extremity, leaving it to tilt and fall to the floor as the door finally
slammed shut.

The trucker and
the young redneck looked at the severed hand, then at each other in disbelief.
For a moment they continued to push against the door, as if not sure what else
to do, then exhaled together and eased the pressure.

It was over.

The two men slid
down to the floor, their backs against the door.  The younger scrunched
his face in distaste at the two pieces of human debris left behind and kicked
out with his foot until he had knocked them both under the big stainless steel
sink nearby. The older man just panted and stared at the ceiling above.

Blood smeared
the floor and walls, and covered all of them from where they had been squirming
and thrashing in the stuff. The smell of it mingled with the cloying scent of
rot and formaldehyde remaining after the door closed on their attackers.

The odor
reminded Rachel of the necropsy lab back in school.

But that
observation was merely tangential because her ears still rang from the dead
trucker’s last cry. It had been the worst sound she ever heard in her life and
it now echoed in her mind like a mental banshee.

So that’s
what it sounds like when people die and know it’s happening.

  She
closed her eyes and buried her face into her hands. The shaken woman knew she
would be hearing that scream for a long time to come.

“Benny?” a
nearby voice intruded into Rachel’s awareness. “Benny, answer me!”

It was the
waitress’ voice…but also one she had heard eighteen months ago.

“Benny! 
Answer me! Oh God, please don’t die! Don’t you dare die!

Do something.

“No, Benny!
Don’t you dare die on me! Do you hear me!” the voice was growing shrill, and
heading for a very bad place…a place Rachel knew all too well. “BENNY!!! DON’T
YOU DARE DIE!”

Do something,
Rachel! You’re a doctor, dammit! Do something…right now!

But I’m not a
human doctor.

You’ll have
to do.

But I’m not
qualified!

You’re what
she’s got, dammit! Now do something! Anything! But do it!

Rachel squeezed
back the tears and opened her eyes. She got to her hands and knees and crawled
over to the where the young woman was screaming and shaking her fallen friend.
Blood covered the man from the waist down, and she couldn’t even tell where the
wounds were due to the blood-soaked clothes.

Good! Start
with that. Find the wounds and assess them. This is about a hundred and eighty
pound mammal with multiple wounds of unknown severity. There is evidence of
major blood loss accompanied by the large probability of shock. Now move!

The clinical
side of her mind asserted itself and Rachel felt the first harbingers of
control return. She was a doctor. She had a patient. And she had a client who
was approaching hysterics. She had a job to do, and she needed to act.

Now.

“Easy,” Rachel
Sutherland, DVM, laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder and moved next to her
beside the stricken man. “I’m something of a doctor. Let me help.”

###

The Storm - Marisa

Marisa inspected
the repaired section of eyeliner with a critical eye that would have done any
makeup artist proud.

Not that there
had been much wrong with it in the first place.

The damage had
been minor, although she did prefer her makeup to be flawless. But she now
suspected Stacey had used the tiny smudge for her own nefarious purposes. For
one thing, the little minx knew quite well the art of applying makeup was like
a zen exercise to Marisa, who found the concentration of the process to be
calming, and the tall waitress now harbored no doubt it been brought up for
just such a purpose.

And like most of
Stacey’s little schemes…it worked.

“Okay, you
stinker,” she chuckled. “You win this one, but don’t think I will forget this.”

She straightened
and stepped back to survey the rest of herself in the bathroom mirror. Her
lustrous black hair still lay thick and almost straight from its earlier
brushing, with just the perfect hint of wave to frame her face without looking
the least bit styled. Her uniform hugged her long form without being tight
enough to be tacky, and she wore the little waist apron at the perfect level to
both accent her figure and have the desired effect on the length of torso.

Marisa favored
her reflection with a smile so catlike in satisfaction one would almost expect
her to purr.

This would do.

This would do
just fine.

Mr. Harley
Whatshisname was now officially the luckiest redneck on the planet.

The young woman
popped a hair brush from her apron, deciding a few more strokes might be in
order. Marisa would be damned if she was going to appear to hurry back out
there just to be available for this escapade. Appearances mattered. Girls of
her caliber were worth waiting for, and it never hurt to drive that point home
early. Besides, it would serve her conniving little friend right to have to
watch the whole restaurant for a few more minutes.

“Hmph! The place
is dead anyway,” she smirked. “And one should always do at least a hundred
strokes.”

She was only
into the third stroke when she paused and frowned at the bathroom wall.

What was that?

She thought she
had heard something…a yell, or some kind of commotion.

The fan in the
women’s bathroom was loud, and the fact the restrooms were on the store side of
the truck stop building meant there was a brick firewall between them and the
restaurant side. Still, however faint, she felt pretty sure she had heard
something. And that something hadn’t sounded good.

Her brow
furrowed with both curiosity and concern, and she moved towards the back wall
of the restroom and away from the noisy ceiling fan. As she did, the faint
noises of thumping and the metallic thud like the back door being kicked
reached her ears. What the hell was going on over there? The waitress tilted
her head in confusion at the faint din.

Then a second
later, the unmistakable sound of a scream pierced the thick wall.

Marisa stood up
straight and whirled towards the door. The brush fell forgotten from her hand
as she hurried towards the exit.

That had been
Stacey, and she sounded like she was in trouble…bad trouble.

Her mind raced
as she moved. If Stacey were in some kind of struggle at the back door, then
she must have gone outside after Tomas instead of Benny. Which was probably
another reason she distracted her with the eyeliner ruse, to keep Benny in the
kitchen and yet spare Tomas a well deserved ass shredding at the same time.
Only she must have run into some kind of trouble while out there…and Marisa had
a good idea what that trouble was.

“Libby,” she
snarled and fished her car keys out of her pocket as she moved. Her fist closed
around the ring, leaving a key protruding like a metal spike between each
finger.

It sounded like
the hooker had decided to take their little feud to a new, more violent level
and chose to go after Stacey when she saw the opportunity. The smaller girl,
out in the parking lot alone, must have made a target the mangy prostitute just
couldn’t resist. Well, if that was the case then Marisa intended to dish out an
education the sorry whore would never forget on the subject of what happened
when she messed with her friends.

“You should have
come after me first,
puta
,” she growled as her hand reached for the
bathroom door, “because then I would have gone a lot easier on you. Now I’m
going to wreck your ass!”

The bathrooms
faced each other across a short hall in the back of the store side of the truck
stop, with the employee’s entrance at the back of the hall. The only problem
was the employee’s door could only be opened from the other side without a key,
so when the waitresses had to use the restrooms they were forced to return to
their stations by walking through the store and coming in the front door of the
diner.

Only a minute
longer, amiga. I’ll be right there.

Then, as her
fingers closed around the handle…

…all hell broke
loose on the other side of the door.

Marisa froze at
the explosion of crashing and screaming that erupted all at once. It sounded
like a full blown riot had broken out in the store.

She recognized
the shrieks as coming from Gladys, who must have been either at the side door
smoking a cigarette or behind the nearby counter. Somebody else was screaming
as well, as if Gladys had a customer at the time and they were being murdered
together. A mighty crash and clatter shook the place, and Marisa realized it
could have only come from the big cigarette rack suspended over the counter
being yanked down.

What in the hell
was going on out there?

Marisa stopped
and reconsidered her options.

Nobody who knew
her could have ever confused the raven haired waitress for a coward, but she
wasn’t a fool either. Whatever the heck was going on out there, it was a lot
worse than some truck stop hooker with a grudge. It sounded more like a gang of
some kind had broken into the store and was wrecking the place. Wading out into
the middle of something like that didn’t make sense to her in the least.

At the same
time, she knew hiding out in the bathroom didn’t count as an option either. She
couldn’t risk getting caught alone in here by this gang of mystery marauders with
nowhere to run. She needed to go out there, but she needed to do it smart.

The girl reached
over and snapped off the bathroom light and fan. Now the noise of the fan
wouldn’t herald the opening of the bathroom door to any listeners nearby. Then
she checked herself to make sure she had nothing likely to fall out of her
apron or pocket that might make a sound and give her away.

She knew she was
only going to get one chance to do this, and it had to be right.

Marisa waited
until the fan quit whining, then crouched and slowly pulled the bathroom door
open. Once she had it wide enough, she slipped through into little hallway. The
girl stayed low, which meant she couldn’t see over the shelves into the store,
but it also meant she wouldn’t be visible to whoever was doing the thrashing
and crashing on the other side of the room.

A loud rumble of
thunder, along with the distinct hiss of rain, told her the side door must be
wide open. That, combined with the current location of the thrashing sounds,
meant her exit options were now either the front entrance or the door to the
restaurant. Each had its merits, but she wouldn’t be able to make the final
decision until she got there.

Reaching the
front of the little hall, Marisa stayed in her crouch and did a quick look left
and right down the length of the back wall and the cooler doors.  Nobody
lurked in either direction, so she made a quick dash straight ahead into the
aisle of automotive products. The waitress stopped to catch her breath, and
listen for more clues on what to do next.

Gladys had
stopped screaming, but Marisa didn’t know if it counted as a good or bad thing.
A male voice still made a guttural “ungh ungh” sound she found deeply
disturbing, as if it were made by a dying animal that was pinned and too weak
to struggle further. There was still enough rustling and thrashing for her to
know there must be several people moving around near the counter. What the hell
was going on over there?