Jack Daniels Series - Three Thriller Novels (Bite Force, Jack Rose, Witch Brew) by J.A. Konrath

Author:J.A. Konrath [Konrath, J.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-05T00:00:00+00:00

THE GAS STATION PHANTOM

Blizzard.

The sky alive with snow, like a cloud of insects devouring everything.

White hell, freezing and immobile.

Even in a four-wheel-drive cargo van the Phantom barely made it to the gas station, passing no fewer than fifteen ditched cars.

A foot and a half of snow blanketed the parking lot. No one at the pumps. One lonely car parked in the employee spot, nearly buried by a drift.

The Gas Station Phantom pulled in, turned off the van, put on his mask, grabbed his pitchfork, and got out.

Cold.

Over a foot of snow had blown against the entrance door, but he trudged through it and entered with a push.

While he hadn’t been inside the store before—they had cameras so he did his three weeks of surveillance while parked across the street—it looked like every other gas station convenience shop.

Brightly lit, with rows of candy and snacks and assorted artificial crap, flanked on three sides by glass door refrigerators full of beverages and more sugary and salty garbage, a counter to the left, unattended.

He couldn’t smell anything inside the respirator. But that was the point. Guaranteed to protect against paint fumes, dust, and organic vapors.

A shame. Smelling blood was part of the fun.

But with the attached goggles, it completely hid his face.

Waiting.

It took to a count of thirty-seven for the clerk to come out from the back room. Young man, twenties, scruffy beard, maybe six foot four with broad shoulders and muscular arms outlined through the tight T-shirt.

“Sorry, bro. I didn’t think anyone would be coming in with all this effin’ snow.”

Then: “Man, you still worried about the COVID? That is one serious mask, bro.”

Then: “I thought you had a shovel, bro. Wassat? An effin’ pitchfork?”

Then: screaming.

Ecstasy.

The Gas Station Phantom—a nickname he liked—poured onto the clerk like liquid, spearing him in the groin before he got behind the counter and any weapon hidden there.

It took some strength to pull the prongs free, and he had to use his boot for leverage.

While the clerk fell over, the Phantom jabbed him again in the belly, cutting all the way to the tile floor.

The poking continued until the clerk wasn’t screaming anymore.

It took a few minutes. But the Phantom’s bloodlust wasn’t sated. Not after so long in lockup.

One death wasn’t enough.

Greedy.

So there had to be more. When you have a box of candy, you can’t stop with one. You have to keep eating. And eating.

Even in a blizzard, others would come.

Waiting.

He would wait for as long as it took.

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