A Prerequisite In Serial Killing by ​Jon C. Martin

Author:​Jon C. Martin [Martin, ​Jon C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jon C. Martin
Published: 2015-09-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16 - Attacked

Monday, October 22nd - Very Early Morning

Eddington walked slowly down the dark, chain link tunnel overhung by the towering pine trees. It was a foggy night, and he was looking for something. Gold, the gold heart. The one missing from Charlotte's locket. He carefully eyed the ground as he walked, not sure why it would be here and if it was, how could he possibly see it in the darkness? He felt a presence and glanced down the path to the bridge and saw a blob of darkness dissolve into the darkness all around. He heard the low rumble of a freight train approaching from the south and felt the path trembling. He squinted, tried to make out any details in the fog, the train becoming louder, the thump of wheels on the tracks waking him up.

He stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to orient himself. His room was never truly dark, the softly, endlessly blinking lights of his computer equipment and the small fish tank whose light he never turned off casting an alien glow. He didn't like sleeping in perfect darkness, it made him nervous. He lay there, wondering if he'd actually heard something. Sometimes Dima called to make sure he didn't miss his early morning class, but if so his phone should still have the alert glow of a missed call. "What the hell time is it?" he asked himself angrily, grabbing the phone and blearily trying to make out the time. 3am. He snorted, nothing good ever happened at 3am. Supposedly midnight was the witching hour but Dr. Harding was convinced it was early morning, when the human body was at its lowest ebb. The Army had taught him that people are solar-powered. During CQ duties it was always the last few hours before dawn when it was the hardest to keep awake. With the rising of the sun the body, no matter how exhausted, would shake itself conscious. He set the phone down, aware of a slight nauseous feeling. He quickly performed his alcohol math...he'd started drinking after he got home, so 5:30 or so. He remembered dropping into his bed at around midnight, so seven hours, he'd finished that one bottle and was well into the new one, but that wasn't unusual. It was morning, so 10 hours. He ought to be almost sober now. Whatever, he'd get up and take a few antacids then sleep a little later. He would feel fine by his first class.

Which is when he heard the noise again. Something was lightly tapping on his bedroom door. He forgot his discomfort and froze for second, the instinctive prey response to an unexpected threat. What the hell? Being a paranoid man he'd replaced the cheap hollow core bedroom door with a solid wood external version and installed a deadbolt, but he didn't have much faith in the frame. Pine studs weren't known for their strength, and the apartment management had been less than enthusiastic about his request for modifications.

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