The Love of Her Death

by Luna Carrol

  Her parents were not at fault. The city of Washington was, and they went unpunished. That's the way of things. Good people die early while bad people prosper. Really, something should be done to even the score one day.

  She paused in her thinking. She had done that. She went out to settle the score. Her heart dropped a foot. She needed to change.

  Settling with a sigh, he laid his arm on the sofa's arm. “You don't want them?"

  "What?” She knew she gave him a cross look.

  "People. You're all alone here."

  She shook her head. “I didn't want company.” Take the hint, Callaway.

  "Forgive me for being blunt here, but shouldn't you have excellent accommodations on this...” His eyes wandered the car. “Train of whatever it is?"

  Forgive him for being blunt? The man had no idea how blunt he really was. She should tell him, but no she wouldn't. She had done enough to the man. A few minutes of toleration, or barely tolerating, was the least she could do.

  Of course, he did think like she did. The train carried only the worst kind of people. She paused and looked up at him. “Why are you here?"

  He looked out the window. “The snow is lovely."

  "You wouldn't be here unless you killed someone and took some enjoyment in doing it."

  "Is that how it works? Okay then. Now, I understand some things that have happened to me here.” He leaned forward with a smile. “Do you know I watched a woman give a total stranger a blow job?"

  She snidely smiled at him. “You don't say?"

  He cleared his throat. “You think I'm a chauvinist, don't you?"

  Here it comes. She didn't want to hear this. He'd make some trivial excuse for being like he was, and she would have to pretend to understand it. Well, there really was no excuse for what he was. She stood.

  "No. Wait.” He extended his hand. “I understand."

  She waited a moment and then sat back down. Toleration. She killed him. Now, she should listen to why he lived the way he did. Fair play.

  "I used to be a happy man.” He sighed. “I had a wife, two kids, even a dog."

  "What happened?” Money. It always centered around money or another woman.

  "I cheated on her.” Bingo. It was not a big surprise either.

  "Oh.” She couldn't act shocked. It happened all the time. If not for affairs, the movie and television industries would go broke, not to mention private detectives and divorce lawyers.

  "No. You don't understand. I cheated on her ... and killed the other woman."

  Her eyes met his for the first time during their conversation. Now, this was a twist. “Why?"

  "I didn't mean to. It just sort of happened."

  He didn't understand things. He would not be here if he didn't enjoy the woman's death. Marie enjoyed poisoning her lovers, Cowboy enjoyed shooting his, and Ivan ... well, he just enjoyed killing those he saw as lesser people. She decided not to focus her thoughts on Jay or Colin. Somehow they just seemed different. Justified.

  "Anyway, my wife found out after the woman died. Even though the jury found me not guilty, she knew. The manner in which the woman died told her that I really did it.” He smiled. “Her eyes. Like I said, she always knew.” He pointed to his chest. “It was as if she could look straight into my soul."

  The eyes. Colin believed that, too. Maybe there really was something to the idea of them being windows to the soul. Colin looked straight into Peter's eyes when he killed him. For all she knew, he had to look in the eyes of his victims. She shook off the thought.

  "How did...” She braced herself for something horrible. “How did the woman die?"

  He searched her eyes for a long moment. “I didn't want her to die. I just got carried away. I never did anything like that before her or after her."

  She waited. Confession had been hard for her, too. First, it began with the excuse of why she had to kill the people she worked with. They hated her and criticized her. Yeah, the excuses made it seem a little like their fault making it easier to accept. His excuse was that it had been an accident. She shook her head. An accident that he enjoyed overly much.

  "Strangulation."

  He's a kinky bastard. She knew it! Something told her to stay away from him. He strangled his lover to death. She had seen a documentary on weirdoes like him before. They got a thrill out of killing someone while fucking them! Even Cowboy waited until it was over, and Ivan wanted her alive, too. At least, she thought Ivan had. Oh my god, new level of sick now!

  No two murders were alike. No one could convince her that they were. Not now. Some people got a hell of a lot more out of killing people than others. Oh yeah. Some people deserved a worse fate.

  "It started out as a game we played. We had experimented with it plenty of times. She liked it, too."

  "Uh-huh.” Time to go now, Donnes.

  "I really liked her. I didn't want her to die.” His hands twisted the air as if gripping something that only he could feel.

  She stood.

  "Sit.” His voice rose suddenly.

  She plopped down quickly.

  Callaway chuckled. “I forgot myself. You no longer work for me."

  That's right. She didn't. Hell, she resented his tone when she had, and he insulted her. Why the hell did she stay? She planted her feet solidly. She would just leave. What could he do? Fire her? She almost laughed out loud.

  "In fact, you put me in my place, didn't you?” His smile unnerved her.

  She chuckled with no believability. He didn't mean to compliment her. He wanted to provoke her into admitting it. He wanted a confrontation.

  "Yep. That's right. You sure did.” His smile faded, and his eyes focused.

  "You know, the conductor should be coming through any moment now. He and I have become friends. Well, friendly you could say.” She started looking around as if looking for someone.

  "I can see that.” He stuck his hand in the pocket of his windbreaker. It seemed to be moving around inside the pocket. “You're an attractive woman. And why not? Get a little before the end of the ride, huh?"

  She half-stood. Colin had to be around somewhere. If he would just come through here...

  "Yes. I asked you out how many times?"

  "Umm ... never. You asked me to go back to your apartment twice."

  He chuckled and shook his head. “I lived on a budget ever since the divorce, but that didn't mean I wouldn't have treated you nice."

  "You said you wanted to be alone with me.” She stood. “Excuse me."

  Lurching forward, he shoved her down into her bench. “You don't really have to leave. There's nowhere to go on this absurd train. The next car is always an empty one."

  One hand covered her mouth while the weight of his body pinned her down uncomfortably. “Now, let's see who puts who in their place, shall we?"

  His hand was pulling her skirt higher and paused to unfasten his pants.

  She fought with all her might. This couldn't happen. Colin told her to stay in the room. No. No. No.

  If she could get away from him and run, then he couldn't follow her. He thought all the cars were empty. All she had to do was get to Colin's room again. She would be safe there.

  He laughed as his hand drug up through her tightened slit. “You're not even wearing panties!"

  Pulling one hand free, she dragged her hand across his cheek while biting on his hand as hard as she could. Three long scratches in the wake of her nails began to bleed.

  Jerking his hand back, he fumbled in his pocket and pulled forth a short black rope. “Bitch. Just hold still.” He laughed. “I can't promise that I'll take it easy on you, but one good turn deserves another, right? And at least one of us will get to cum this time."

  She screamed as loud as she could. Slapping at him with one free hand wasn't enough to keep him from wrapping the cord around her neck.

  "Now, all I need is my little stick...” He reached into his pocket.

  His slimy smile turned into an expression of shock as Do
nnes watched Colin pull him from her. Colin hurled the man to the benches on the opposite side of the train car. He never looked to Donnes. His chest moved up and down in an exaggerated fashion with each deep breath.

  "Wait! Wait! She killed me! It's justice!” Callaway pointed to Donnes while backing away from Colin and stumbling between two benches.

  "I think I can imagine her wanting to. And no. This isn't justice. This is a sickness of the soul, and there's only one cure.” Colin's voice was dangerously low.

  Part of Donnes actually felt pity for the man. She had seen what Colin could do. Closing her eyes, she turned her face toward the upholstered bench. Unfortunately, her hands couldn't cover her ears tightly enough. She knew she would still hear everything.

  Callaway's scream, the sound of Colin's grunt, the image played out clearly in her mind. Finally, she heard the sound of Callaway's heavy body falling to the floor. She whimpered and curled up tighter.

  That's how he found her.

  "Are you insane, woman?” Colin stood above her with his hands on his hips. “How many times must a man save your ass?"

  Her tiny mouth opened as her brow creased in confusion. “But you left during...” Her eyes traveled to Callaway's dead body. He laid motionless, glassy eyes staring back at her. “And then the engineer said that you knew...” Donnes lowered her eyes. “I just needed to be alone to think."

  He gritted his teeth. He knew he couldn't talk to her and do what he needed to do. The emotions she caused would just get in the way. No. He wouldn't talk to her; he'd just do it.

  "We've reached your stop, Donnice."

  She heard him, but it didn't register at first. When what he said dawned on her, she looked at him. “What?"

  "Your stop. It's time for me to see you off the train. You can't do it alone."

  She knew how he would do it. The train didn't stop except to let people on. The only way off this train was with the assistance of the conductor. He would have to kill her.

  The one man she had actually fallen for. She couldn't have fallen in love when she lived. Oh no. That would have been too good for her. She had to fall for a man who would eventually kill her. Well, okay then. She could do it. Maybe she had learned enough about herself anyway. God knows she didn't want to learn any more.

  "I see.” She looked out the window again. The snowy landscape continued to pass. Maybe it would be snowing wherever she ended up. Standing slowly, she accepted his hand in assistance. “I'll miss you, Colin."

  He shook his head as if disappointed. Okay. She understood that, too. He didn't want her to miss him. Most likely he would forget her immediately. Fine. She would play along.

  "Will I like where I'm going?"

  "I don't know,” he whispered. “I don't know what your stop is like."

  "I'll never see you again?” She used the pad of her thumb to feel his mustache and goatee just one more time.

  "I don't think so.” The muscles of his face remained unmoved by her touch.

  "Thanks for being that hero I needed.” She stepped close to him. “Whether you wanted to be or not."

  His hand covered hers and for just a minute she thought he would say something she wanted to hear. He lowered her hand while his brow pleated. “I'm no hero."

  "You're wrong.” Her mouth almost touched his. “You're my...” His hand buried deep within her chest. The shock caused her to gurgle the last word.

  Donnes felt the searing pain and knew it for what it was. It hurt to breathe, to move. Standing perfectly still, she held his gaze for as long as she could. A strange moan issued from her throat.

  His face was pale but perfect. His eyes were so intense, and those lips ... She used the last of her fleeting energy to touch his bottom lip. How wonderful it would be to kiss him again. She almost laughed. She found a reason to live in the arms of her killer.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Donnice woke when something bumped her shoulder.

  "Yep. You really need to get more rest and relax."

  Donnes sat up. The train? No. Everyone in it looked normal. Some were reading. An old woman nodded off to sleep. An LED screen at the front of the car read Federal Triangle in bright red lights.

  Wait. There was too much chrome in this car. It didn't look anything like the previous cars. Where were the upholstered benches? These vinyl things weren't comfortable at all. She looked at the woman talking to her.

  The breath flew from her lungs. She was back. It was the Metro, not Colin's train. Hell, it was the Washington DC Metro. She chuckled and then remembered someone had spoken to her.

  "Patricia? What are you doing here?” She still wore black fishnet hose, but her hair now resembled an orange in its color and round shape. Talk about bowl cuts.

  The gothic woman reached out and grabbed her purse from Donnes. “I wouldn't leave without my purse, now would I?"

  "No. I meant...” She couldn't say this without being rude. “Why are you here with me?"

  She sniffed loudly. “Seems I've been reassigned. Hey, where's my lipstick?” She continued to rummage through her purse. “Here it is."

  "So, it was real?” Donnes looked down at the tile floor.

  "Real? Oh yeah, hon, it was all real.” She slathered a thick coat of black lipstick on.

  Donnes grimaced. “I'm sorry."

  "Sorry? Oh, you mean about me and the reassignment. Don't be. After awhile you get tired of the same old, same old. At least I do. Remember? I told you that I work here and there."

  That's right. She had. Just before they had coffee, or was it after? “What's your assignment now?"

  Patricia grinned, displaying her still yellow teeth between shiny black lips. “I see to those who exit the train now. Instead of dealing with the depressed, I get to work with the ones who have learned a thing or two."

  "I thought Colin punished you or something?"

  "Colin?” She chuckled. “Well, he was mad enough to, but he couldn't do anything more than toss me off the train. To a mortal that could be hell ... literally. But to us, it just means it's time to move on whether we want to or not. Can't stay when the conductor says go."

  "I don't feel like I understand any more than I did when boarding the train.” Donnes looked down at her clothing. The exact outfit she wore when she first met Colin in all its glorious practicality.

  "Oh, but you do. You're now ready to finish it all up."

  "Finish what all up?"

  "Your journey of self discovery. Welcome back to the land of the living."

  "I'm back, but I thought I was dead. How can I be back here and still be dead?"

  "You died. You're back, but you're not living.” She stood and walked to the old woman. “Hey!” she screamed in the old woman's ear, but the woman continued sleeping. “See? Nothing. They don't know we're here.” She crinkled her nose. “This one will never see the train."

  Patricia sat back down and slouched low. “No fun really. If they can't see you, hear you, or feel you...” She wiggled her eyebrows. “It limits the action."

  Donnes half smiled. “That woman probably isn't interested in your form of action."

  "My form?” Patricia laughed. “You mean our form, right?"

  The train began to slow, its loud brakes whining and making it easy for Donnes to dodge that question. How smooth and strangely different the sound of the Metro was. Nothing like ... “What do you call Colin's train?"

  "Thirteen.” Patricia shrugged.

  "No. I mean how do people refer to that type of train?"

  "It's a Baldwin steam locomotive. At least, that's what Colin told me once."

  Donnes stared at her. “You know what I mean."

  "People don't refer to it at all, let alone attribute it to some category. The living don't know of it, and the final dead forget about it, I think. I don't know about the final dead. Never met one."

  With a silent “oh” and a nodding of her head, Donnes watched out the window as people and the platform came into view.

  "It
is Washington!"

  "Of course.” Patricia never looked out the window of the train. “That's what the LED said."

  "But that makes no sense. Why would I come here?"

  "Cause your journey isn't quite up.” Patricia slowly looked down into Donnes’ lap. “You have one more thing to take care of."

  Donnes looked down. In her lap was a handgun. A revolver. She recognized it as the one she used to kill all her co-workers. Well, at least those unlucky enough to be at the front of the store at that time.

  "What do I have to do?” She couldn't bring herself to do it again. Those people were assholes, but they didn't deserve to die because of it. Besides, her mind wasn't in the same place anymore. She didn't feel like the victim seeking revenge. She wanted to live at least ... sort of. She wanted to be with Colin.

  "Only you know that. Just like only you knew what your stop would be like."

  "But I didn't. I had no idea that I would be returning to Washington."

  Patricia smiled and slung her purse over her shoulder. Apparently, Patricia hadn't been too worried about it. Not mentioning it again meant that she could even be used to losing it only to regain it later.

  Donnes gave her the look. “You still sound crazy to me, maybe a tad melodramatic now, too."

  Patricia laughed. “Okay. Let me put it this way. You needed to learn who you really are. To do that you had to see that you haven't been being yourself."

  Something about that made sense—the clothes, the hair, hell even the sex with strangers. None of it had really been her. She tried to do anything to fit into her new surroundings, just like she had always done. She needed to relax and be herself.

  "I guess I understand that now.” She nodded.

  "Of course you do. Now, all you need to do is see why you can't just be you."

  "Oh no. No other trains for me. I would much rather go back to..."

  Patricia waved her hand. “No, silly. You can't learn anything else about yourself on a train. What you need is to learn what has made you the person you really are."

  "It didn't take much to make a nobody."

  Patricia inclined her head. “Oh no? I disagree. It takes work to make something out of yourself, but it takes more to keep from becoming what you are."