Sunset at the Pink Water Café, Chapter 3

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Chapter 3 here for you today, and I think I mentioned in a comment a few days ago that this story exists in shades of metaphor. Jim and Tracy and Dooley and Darren, all of them metaphors, shadows of a paradigm slipping from our grasp. A few queasy moments in this one, so hang on for the ride.


Sunset at the Pink Water Café 

Chapter 3

Jimmie heard her first. His ears perked when he found her peculiar gait among all the other noise out there, while she was still on the strange hard stuff beyond the grass, then he stood when he heard her footsteps brushing through the grass, hoping she would take him outside, play with him for a long time, but he looked at the man on the floor and didn’t know what would happen next.

She came up the steps and opened the door, came into the house, walked into the living room – then saw a man sprawled out on the floor, apparently unconscious. She ran over, knelt down and checked his neck for a pulse, signs of breathing – but everything appeared normal, at least as far as she could tell – yet she had no idea who this was, let alone what had happened.

She was about to get up, call for an ambulance when she heard more footsteps on the landing just outside the door, and she turned, expected to see Jim walk in the door – but no, that wasn’t what happened. Not at all.

She watched her world turn upside down when Paul Dooley and Sheldon Vance walked in the door. They walked in and looked around the room, then Dooley saw her kneeling on the floor, and he smiled. There was nothing nice about his smile, she saw. Nothing like this afternoon.

“Well, lookie here. My, my, already on the floor…waitin’ for us.” he said as he walked over to her, then he saw the other man on the floor and stopped. “Who’s this? Your new boyfriend, maybe?”

“No, I don’t know who he is. Can you help me get him up into the chair?”

Dooley laughed a little; Vance went over and nudged the man with his foot.

“Looks out cold to me,” Vance said, then he bent over and slapped the man’s face. No reaction, nothing at all, and Vance stood up and shrugged.

“Good,” Dooley said. “No witnesses…”

And then she looked at Paul, who was now undoing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans, flipping off his work boots, stepping out of his jeans…

“What are you doing?” she asked, not believing what she was seeing.

“We’re gonna have a little party tonight, just the three of us, and guess what? You’re the guest of honor.”


He pulled down his briefs – letting his cock free to dangle between his legs – and then he leered at her now. “Suckee, suckee, five buckee,” he said gleefully, then he stepped forward, coming for her…again. “Just like old times,” he sail, almost giggling.

“Who’s that,” Vance said, but Dooley heard a click-pffft, like the sound of rushing air, then something bit his neck, pain like a wasp’s sting, or a hornet, maybe –

And she saw Jim step out of the shadows, a pistol of some sort in his right hand – which arced over to Sheldon Vance and click-spitted again. She saw a little spat of blood form on Vance’s neck, watched him react, bring his hand up to the side of his neck – “Ahh, ouch!” he said – then Dooley went down on his knees, eyes rolled back in his head and he slowly slumped over backwards, trying to stop his fall with an outstretched arm. “Oh, fuck,” Dooley said as he let himself down to the shiny oak floor. “Somethin’ don’t feel right…”

And then Vance stumbled, leaned against the wall, then he was trying to hold on to something, anything, as he slid to the floor, and he ended up in a sitting position with his back against the wall, his chin on his chest.

Jim walked into the room and the stranger on the floor sat up, looked at the two men on the floor and grinned, more men walked in from other hiding places and she looked around at all this sudden commotion and didn’t know whether she wanted to hide her eyes or run away or cheer for the good ole red, white and blue…

“Did you just kill them? Simple as that?” she cried, but he came over to her and held out his hand, pulled her up.

“They’ve been watching you, and your house, for a couple of hours. What’s up with them? And why is this dickhead wagging his weenie in my living room?”

So she sat down and she told him, them really, because all of them, all eight of his men, walked in and listened to her retelling of events now almost thirty years old – with all of them soon regarding the two on the floor almost like dog turds they’d just stepped on.

Jim looked at them, shook his head, then said: “Tom, get my bag, would you?”

“The black bag, sir?”


He walked over to Dooley, leaned over and looked into the man’s eyes. “What hit you in the neck is a voluntary muscle relaxant. That’s why you’re still breathing, and that’s why you can’t move. You’re not going to die, so just try to relax”

‘Tom’ brought in a small black case and handed it over; Jim opened it and took out some eyedrops and a few other odds and ends.

“That’s also why you can’t close your eyes, or even blink, so I’ve got to put some drops in your eyes from time to time, until you come out of this.” He put drops in Dooley’s eyes, then tossed the vial to one of his men. “That boy looks uncomfortable sitting like that. Let’s get him down on the floor, then put some drops in, would you?”

“Yessir,” the other man said.

“So,” he said, looking at her, “which one is this?”

“He was my boyfriend in high school. Paul Dooley. And that’s Sheldon Vance. He held me down most of that night, jacked off on my face once, then fucked me in the ass.”

“Did he, now. Well, too bad for you, Sheldon.” He turned to her, his face a blank mask now: “You might want to go home now.”

“What are you going to do?”

He sighed. “I think class is going to be in session again for these boys. It’s time they learned a thing or two about what happens to rapists in the real world.”

“No, I’m not leaving,” she said defiantly. “And I won’t let you kill them.”

“Kill them? No, just a little civics lesson, but it won’t be pretty.”

“I don’t care. I have to watch, to make sure…”

“Well, suit yourself,” he said, and he took a vial out of his bag and leaned over Dooley, put two drops on the man’s tongue, then he walked over and did the same to Vance.

“What’s that,” she asked.

“It’s an LSD analogue. Sort of the same thing, but this little home-brew heightens the sense of paranoia,” he said as he took latex gloves out of his bag and slipped them on. Two wrapped syringes came out next, and he pointed at Vance, said “get his pants down,” and men snapped to, pulled that man’s pants down, including his underwear, then he walked over to Dooley, leaned over and looked into his eyes.

“Can you talk yet?”

Dooley worked his mouth, tried to say something and failed, then tried again. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, man…” he whispered.

“Indeed. Glad to hear it. Now Paul, do you know what this is?” He held up a snake, a rubber snake, but one that looked remarkably like a live coral snake, and he held it up carefully to Dooley’s eyes, taking great care to hold it, then he put it back in his bag. “That’s right, Paul, this is a coral snake. You’ve heard of those, haven’t you? Well, Paul, what I’m going to do is this. I’m going to put that coral snake right up your dick. I’m going to put that snake to sleep first, then I’m going to just slide him right up that dick of yours, all the way up into your bladder. Then that snake is going to wake up. And Paul, do you have any idea what that poor snake’s going to do once it wakes up?”

“Fuck you!” he slurred, and he watched as Dooley’s eyes rolled back, the LSD analogue taking hold now.

“No, not at all Paul. I’m not going to fuck you. That snake is going to fuck you, right up your ass. Just imagine that snake coming up behind you, then fucking you up the ass, just like you fucked Tracy up the ass. Remember that? How good that felt? Well, that snake is going to enjoy fucking you up the ass just as much as you enjoyed fucking Tracy, only his dick is a lot bigger than yours.”

“Oh, no…” Dooley cried, and he leaned over, put more drops in his eyes.

“Yes, Paul, much bigger, and it’s going to hurt like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. So, Paul, I’m going to have to get your dick hard first, so I can slide the snake up there, and this is going to hurt a little, and I’m sorry for that. But I can’t push that coral snake up your dick is it’s soft, can I?”

He opened a syringe, screwed down the plunger to prime the binary chemical load, then swabbed off Dooley’s dick with an alcohol swab, quickly slipped the needle into the base of Dooley’s penis – then slowly depressing the plunger. He went over and repeated the process on Vance, right down to dangling the snake in front of the terrified man’s face.

“No,” Vance whimpered, “no snakes. Please, no snakes.”

“Ah, so you’re afraid of snakes?”


And Jim frowned at that, shook his head at Vance’s tears, his uncontrolled trembling when he held the snake in front of Vance’s eyes again.

“Oh well, that can’t be helped, I’m afraid.”

He walked back to Dooley, bent over and flicked the dick with a gloved finger – and it was beginning to react to the medication, getting harder by the minute, and he nodded, then looked up at her.

“Anything you’d like to say to him now, before we do this?”

“No. Will it hurt?”

“Excruciating pain, yes. When it wakes up and bites him, he will experience total agony.”

“Good. But…won’t he die?”

“I’ll administer an anti-venom when that happens,” he said, and he saw his words were having the exact affect he wanted. Dooley farted, began to cry…

“Don’t do this to me…what kind of monsters are you?”

Jim nodded, leaned over and looked into Dooley’s eyes. “I’m so sorry about all this, that this is going to hurt so much, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Neither can you, for that matter, so why don’t you just relax now…it’ll all be over in a minute.”

“No, please, don’t do this to me…”

“What? Are you sorry now? Sorry for what you did to Tracy? Are you?”

“I didn’t do nothin’ to her.”

“Oh. I see.” He went into his bag, pulled out a small envelope and a tube of sterile lubricant, then opened the envelope, pulled out a small sterile sleeve. “Okay, Paul, if you’re not going to tell me the truth, guess who’s coming out for a visit?” He pulled the snake out and handled it carefully again, held it just above Dooley’s face –

– and he cried out again: “I didn’t do nothin’!”

“Of course you didn’t, Paul. And you go right on thinking I believe you, too.” He put lube on the end of Dooley’s dick, then opened the sleeve, peeled back the wrapping and took what looked like a six inch long piece of glass tubing out and in one smooth motion slipped it inside Dooley’s urethra. “Here it comes, Paul. Here comes the coral snake…”

The man screamed, coughed and screamed again.

“That’s alright, Paul. It’s almost all the way in now. But Paul, once that snake is all the way in I can’t get him back out. Do you understand, Paul? Once I let go of the snake he’s in there for good, until he wakes up, then, well, you know what happens then, don’t you? So, are you sure there’s not something you want to say to Tracy now?”

“I’m sorry, Tracy, for all we done to you that night…I’m so sorry…”

“Tell me, Paul, just what did you do to Tracy that night?”

“We fucked her, he fucked her in the ass, we fucked her all night long…”

“Paul, did you like it? Did you like fucking her up the ass?”

He grinned. “Oh yeah, it was great, the greatest night of my life. I loved it, we all did.”

“So, you’re not really sorry, are you, Paul? Not really?

“Shit no. I’d do it all over again…”

“That’s what you were going to do tonight, isn’t it, Paul?”

“Oh, yes. I can’t wait to fuck her up the ass again…”

And put a gag in Dooley’s mouth then squeezed his dick, causing the crystalline sugar rod to shatter, and he kept squeezing the dick until he saw blood run out the tip. The rod melted quickly after that, and Dooley’s muffled screams filled the room – and Tracy looked down at him for a minute, then stood and left the room.

He walked over to Vance, and began again.


He and his men were sitting around the card table, deep in a new hand when they saw a sheriff’s car drive up the street and stop in front his house. An old man got out and walked up to the door and banged on the glass, then on the wooden door frame. “Open up,” he called out, and Jim went to the door, opened the door and smiled.


“I just come from the hospital. Two men down there, their dicks all torn up, and they you done something to them.”

“Excuse me? Who said what?”

“Two locals, say you stuck snakes up their dicks.”

His eyes went wide and he laughed. “Snakes? Not likely, I’m deathly afraid of snakes, and besides, we’ve been playing cards since five this afternoon.”

“I’m gonna need to see some ID,” the old sheriff said, and eight men pushed back their chairs and walked over to the door, their pistols and badges now clear for him to see. “You all law enforcement,” he asked, now cowed.

“Federal,” Jim said. “Counter-terrorism.”

“Why didn’t you guys check in with me, let me know you’re here?”

“Because,” Jim said, “we’re not here. You didn’t see anyone in this house. Not one soul. Is that clear enough for you? Do I need to elaborate?”

“Yessir, I got it.”

“Now, I don’t know who you have down at the hospital, but it sounds to me like somebody took too many drugs tonight, maybe got hold of some really bad shit. You wish ‘em a speedy recovery, though. Tell ‘em I hope they get better, real soon. Now, goodnight Sheriff.”

She watched the old man walk out to his car from his bedroom, watched him drive away, then walked out to the living room, walked up to the table and put her hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, all of you,” she said, and Tom looked over at her and winked. “Five card stud,” he said, looking right at her. “You in, or you just gonna stand around lookin’ all cute ‘n stuff?”


Life slipped into new patterns after that night.

She moved most of her things down the street, put her clothes in the closet – in his closet, as in: her clothes next to his – and she looked at that development in wonder. Looked at what that really meant. For the first time in nearly three decades she had given her heart to another human being, yet she still had no real idea who, or what he was.

She only knew that he was dangerous. A most dangerous kind of human being, a great unknown, like a shadow in the night, lurking out there beyond the trees. He would walk by and she would feel that in her gut…that he was a feral beast, the creature of a child’s nightmare.

And that night lingered in her mind for days. The way he walked around the room, the gentle way he talked to Dooley and Vance as he stripped away their souls, laid them bare. Practiced was the word that came to mind, too. Like he’d done this so many times he’d grown bored with their fear. They were toys, not human beings, and yet when then were through with them, after they loaded Dooley and Vance in the back of one of the Suburbans and drove away in the night, after they were pushed out the back of the moving Suburban onto the beach road, when he came back to her he was as gentle and caring as any soul she’d ever known. So he just didn’t compute, she told herself. Things didn’t quite add up. Like two separate souls inhabited one body, one gentle and sweet, the other an unspeakable monster.

Yet she loved him. She loved him because he instinctively understood what had happened to her all those years ago, what it had cost her over the years, in the most human terms. And he – without hesitation or questioning her – acted on her behalf, to protect and avenge her. So, she understood he had been trying to protect her, and probably in the only way he knew how – so, could she hold that against him? Truly?

But what did his actions say about the man? Who he was, at his core? What he had done with his life?

And, she knew, he would have to tell her – because she wasn’t about to ask him again.

The first time she tried he turned her questions away, inverted their meaning and deflected her searching looks. The second time she asked that dangerous monster settled in his eyes – and she had to turn away, quickly, lest the other man, the creature who lurked deep within those shadows, came out to play.

Yet one moment she knew his was a gentle soul, playful in the extreme, yet also deeply caring. He was an attentive lover, wanted her to have at least twice as much enjoyment from their intimate moments together, and he seemed to need her happiness for his own to be complete.

But she soon noticed he grew tense every Sunday afternoon, and the crescendo of his anxiety always came around six in the evening. When his computer, or something like that in his study, buzzed loudly – and he shut the door as he went inside. Jimmie stood and growled until she either walked outside or down to the bedroom, and he would come out of the room, his face glum one Sunday, or seriously excited, as had happened last week, and she could let out her breath again. Regardless, his face was stern and all business when he came out, and his men would come over and they talked in hushed, angry tones while she worked in his garden or finished folding their laundry.

And Jimmie?

When he came out of the room Jimmie relaxed, and it was as if nothing had happened. One minute a snarling creature ready to rip into her throat, the next just another gentle soul ready to love, and be loved. Feral – docile – in the blink of an eye. Birds of a feather, she thought…

But the changes just didn’t make sense.

Or did they?

“Just who the hell is he?”


And another routine was quickly established, soon set in stone. He stopped cooking lunch and dinner, except on Mondays, and he walked down the hill, to her. He walked down to the café and in the front door at 11:15 sharp, for lunch, and at 5:00, on the nose, for dinner. And Jimmie always came with him. Soon everyone knew the corner table was his, or…theirs. For the pup curled up at his feet and just slept – until it was time to leave again,

About ten days after “that night” Paul Dooley came back to work, was working out back framing a bathroom wall when he walked in, right on time, and she came over, told him about the day’s specials then mentioned, in an underhanded way, that ‘a friend of yours is out back…’

“Oh? Splendid!” And he’d walked right through the kitchen and out the back door, onto the framed and decked addition – and Dooley was about five feet away, on a step ladder, when he stepped out there. He walked around for a while, until Dooley saw him, then he walked back inside, stuck his head in Bruce’s office. “Lookin’ good out there,” he said, and Bruce looked up.

“Yes, now that they’re back up to full strength they should make good time.”

“Oh? Something happen to someone?”

“Yeah, one of their carpenters had some kind of bladder infection, something like that.”

“Ah. Well, looks good, lots of progress. Can’t wait to see it once all the walls are up and rocked.”

Bruce smiled, looked at him, then cleared his throat. “Got a minute?” he asked.


“Come on in, have a seat.”

“Yeah?” he said, “What’s up?”

“I was looking over the plans, thinking about maybe getting a piano, putting it in a corner out there. We’ll have room for a piano, maybe even a trio, something like that. Evenings, ya know. Try to set a new mood around here. Maybe a small dance floor, too.”

“What? Jazz? Stuff like that?”

“Oh,” Bruce said, leaning back, “jazz, classical, even old Elton John.”

“Sounds interesting. What are you thinking you’ll need?”

“I don’t know anything about pianos, neither does Darren, but Tracy mentioned you play so I was wondering, could you help us pick out a piano, maybe get that up and running once we get close to opening?”

“Up and running?”

“Well, maybe you could play a few nights a week, for an hour or so?”

“Ah, kind of sing for my supper, eh? Well, we’ll see. I can certainly help get a piano in here, and there are a few options to go over, but we can talk about that in a month or so.”

“Great, thanks! So, what’s Darren got for lunch today?”

And his routine at home changed a little after that. He started playing more, working on pieces he’d played easily years ago, but that challenged his hands more these days. And when the addition out back took shape he walked out there and looked over the area where the piano would sit. And he’d picked out a nice one, too. A Clavinova, of course, but a full size concert grand, and he could hardly wait to dance with it.

Then one afternoon Paul Dooley walked up the street, trying to act like he wasn’t there, and he walked up to her house and looked at it for a while, then kept on walking up the hill. But of course by that time several people were looking at him, wondering what he was up to – and one of his men slipped into the trees and watched Dooley from a distance, watched Dooley walk up and get into the sheriff’s car, then drive away with him.

And that night the man gathered around the card table, waiting, and the sheriff’s car drove by as the sun set, and again, a few hours later – and then the loud buzzing alarm went off in his study and she thought that odd, as it was a Wednesday. He disappeared inside the room and talked for a few minutes, then he came out and looked at his men.

“Okay, let’s roll,” he said, and they left the house, left her sitting in the living room, alone, and they got in their Suburbans and drove off into the night. The drove south on Main, then out the old County Road where the sheriff was set up, working radar, or so he liked to tell people. When they pulled up to the sheriff’s car he was hurriedly stuffing girly magazines into a briefcase, and he was not amused that these strangers had interrupted his routine.

“What are you lousy sons-a-bitches doin’ out here?” he fairly screamed.

And as he watched Jim walk up to his window he heard a ‘click-pffft’ sound, then swatted at the wasp that must’ve just bit his neck.

“How’re you doin’, Sheriff?”

The old man slumped over behind the wheel, began babbling and drooling.

“My oh my, Sheriff. Have you been drinking? You know, it sure smells like you’ve been drinking. And look what we have here. Juggs Magazine. And Little Beavers, too. Why Sheriff, do you have a thing for little girls? Oh, and look at what we have here. An envelope full of pictures? Of little children, being fucked by…why Sheriff? Is that you? Are you beating off to pictures of you fucking little children?”

The Sheriff mumbled something incoherent, then his bowels cut loose, filling his pants.

“Opps, looks like we’ve had an accident. Well, I hate to say this, Sheriff, but we’ve put a call into the State Police,” he said as he emptied a pint of bourbon onto the sheriff’s uniform, leaving a few good swigs to pour down his mouth. “I guess you know what a DUI is going to do for you, don’t you? Not to mention all that kiddy porn.”

More mumbling, then a State Police trooper’s car pulled up behind the caravan and one of his men went over and introduced himself to the trooper, explained what they’d found when driving out of town. The trooper checked their IDs and was duly impressed, then she examined the sheriff’s car, found all that kiddy porn and they helped her get the sheriff hand-cuffed and into the back of her car.

They watched as she drove off, content with having cleaned up a little of the local trash. For now. Then they watched as the C-27J circled the airport and landed, never once turning on any lights during it’s approach.

They drove out the county road and turned into the airport, and he ran to the Air Force transport and climbed aboard, then the aircraft taxied – again, with no lights – to the end of the little grass strip. The engines spooled up and the Spartan sprinted down the runway and leapt into the sky, then turned to the north northeast and disappeared into the night.


She watched the Suburbans pull into the drive next door, saw he was gone – again – and she wondered where he went – without explanation – on these sudden nights. ‘No point,’ she said to herself as she turned out the lights and went to sleep. “He’d never tell me…”

He wasn’t at lunch the next day, neither did he come by for dinner, but an hour after she walked up to her house she heard one of the Suburbans pull into his drive, and she watched, from her living room, as he went inside and, she assumed, looked for her around his house. Yet a few minutes later all the lights went out and she cursed his name, then went upstairs and crawled into her own bad, in her old room, the room of her childhood.

When she couldn’t sleep he tried to touch herself, tried to get herself off but she knew that was pointless now. She couldn’t even get wet down there without his touch – so she threw back the sheets and put on her slippers, walked down the stairs and out the door. Cussing now, as a light rain began falling, she pounded down the street and across his yard, threw open his front door and tromped down the hallway to his bedroom door. She threw that door open too and walked over to the bed, threw down the sheets and, like a heat-seeking missile, her mouth zeroed in on his cock – and just then she realized he was sitting there, that he’d been waiting for her, that his cock was hard, and slippery, and she flew onto his lap, impaling herself on him. As soon as he was all the way in she slipped into an almost convulsive state, writhing in sudden ecstasy as he held her down, twisting under her and driving up deeper inside from time to time – then he reached for her clit and with his thumb began massaging her. She growled for a moment, then began to roar, finally howling her way into a monumental, thrashing orgasm – screaming “Oh, God, oh, God!” over and over and over again.

When she was falling back to earth he flipped her over and slipped his cock into her mouth, and as soon as her liquid warmth encased him he felt himself explode – and he watched as his cum erupted, oozed past her lips, began running down her chin and onto her breast – then he slid down and put his face on her nether lips and began hammering her clit again, with his tongue this time.

She became a thing possessed now, wrapped her legs around his face, her feet on the back of his head, pulling him closer, and she was lifting up to put more force on her bud, pulling him deeper still – and within moments she was pounding the mattress with clinched fists and her legs shot straight up into the air – her thighs squeezing his head so tightly he thought he might pass out. He drove his tongue in as deep as he could just then, and a silky wave of fluid washed over him – and that only seemed to release a second, much deeper wave of orgasmic contractions…

“Oh, fuck…put it in me…now…”

And he moved up, ran the head of his cock over the running river and slid in, the silken grip surreal now, almost molten. She had her legs up, his face resting on the sides of her feet and he started licking the bottom of her strong arch, then he bit it, started sucking the skin there and her back lifted, he felt her contractions from the head of his cock to the small of his back and everything was suddenly unstoppable. He felt his orgasm begin somewhere in his thighs, the pressure building until his entire being felt wrapped in hot light and a million pricking pins of lust –

And then he felt light headed, like he was standing on a mountain high above timberline and a cold wind was blowing in the sun. He lay there, very still, propped on her legs as the feeling grew more intense…this feeling of altitude, high altitude, and of howling winds. He put his arms out to his side, felt the wind lifting him high into the sky –

And he was flying. Like an eagle, he thought, looking down at the earth far below, soaring on unseen currents, banking on a breeze then looping over into a steep dive…his wings back as he fell on unseen prey far below. He could hear his cry, an eagle’s piecing call even over the roar of the wind, and he took a deep breath, opened his eyes and saw her there, looking at him, her eyes full of wonder.

“Where did that come from?” she whispered.

“Oh, God I love you,” he said – then he was on her, kissing her with more passion than he’d ever felt in his life – and she was all arms and legs now, wrapping herself around him as they rolled on the bed in a frenzy of abandoned restraint.

“Don’t ever leave me like that again,” she cried. “I can’t stand not knowing where you are, not knowing if you’ll come back to me…”

And he stopped, looked into her eyes. “Alright. I promise,” he said, then he took her fingers in his mouth, one by one, licking and sucking on them, “on one condition,” he added.

“And what would that be?”

“We fly to Vegas, and you marry me.”

She grew very still then, and she moved away, looked him in the eye. “Is that what you really want?”

“More than anything in the world,” he said softly, sucking on one of her nipples.

“Alright. I’ll accept, on that one condition.”

He moved to her other nipple, began tonguing that one, and he felt them growing hard as he worked them over, felt her thighs trembling and her hands pulling his mouth closer – and he pushed her down again, buried his face between her thighs until her body was almost on fire, her being on the verge of spontaneous combustion.

When she came down this time he left her again, spiraled away on thermal currents until he was high over the mountains, looking down. Clouds were gathering along a far ridge, a deep storm coming and he looked down into the forest far below. He saw her running then, running like a fawn, her tawny, spotted skin dancing in the sunlight, oblivious to the warning wind building around her, carefree, alive, running through the trees without a care in the world.

He wondered what it was like to run free, to run through forests – without orders. What it must feel like to kill just for the sake of killing, without having to be told to kill. He looked at the fawn and wondered if he should let it run free a while longer, or if he should fold his wings back now, and fall on her.

He knew they were getting close now. The team had been spotted in St Johns. Leaving the airport, headed to the wharves. So, they would come by sea this time. Not unexpected, he thought, and he looked at her – sleeping by his side. So cute, he thought. I could lick those freckles for all eternity, kiss those lips, fall into her eyes and swim away. He trembled and jerked for a moment, felt himself falling through lightning and rain, the wind and enfolding darkness too close now. Close, but not touching.

She would die, he knew. She would get to close to the lightning before he could save her, so maybe it would be better to kill her now, before all the pain came crawling through the night – before the real suffering began.

He reached out, put his hands around her neck –

And the current, the charge of her skin touching his, reached into him – and he closed his eyes, felt the wind and the rain and he flew higher, reaching out for the sun.

© 2017 Adrian Leverkühn | abw | |

6 thoughts on “Sunset at the Pink Water Café, Chapter 3

  1. Don’t know why, but when he was musing “So, they would come by sea this time”, I had images of the end of Patriot Games flashing in my mind.


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