FOREBODING

Nightlife at Warmaukey had always been the safest. But not until recently, where everyone wore their hearts on their sleeves, and parents warned their teenagers to be home on time, just to be on a safer side. The serial killing had begun four weeks back, and the death had totaled up to four in such short period of time. The first death had been of a street beggar, everyone knew him as Marcus. He was a lovely old man who cleaned the town center park and handed out candies to kids on the park every afternoon, which he’d buy with most of the money he made off begging on the street. Everyone loved him, the kids especially, and when he had been found dead on the same park he so much adored by a security on morning patrol, his eyes had been gauged out and his hands chopped off clean. It was a planned, executed carefully death and not just an accident. The town had been thrown into a chaos and a candle night plan was in progress while investigation was been undergone quietly without causing more alarm for the people.

But when the next victim was found dead, Father Jerome, all hell and panic inclusive had broken loose in town. It had been a very safe place, and the two sudden deaths in a span of three days had caused terror to wash over the people. The elderly father, the oldest of all the priests in the catholic in town center was found dead in the pigs farm by a nun who was carrying out her early morning chores, the pigs had eaten away at his face and some parts of his body. His eyes therefore and his hands seemed to have been mutilated cleanly. According to the sisters, the priest was never anywhere around the pig farm, so finding him there, dead and half eaten, had been a great cause of bafflement and thrown the people into frenzy.

The investigation had increased a top notch, and all everyone wanted was the peace again. No one had any idea why the killer had suddenly chosen to terrorize the town, and what was the motive. Was the pattern to kill lovely old men? Or was it just someone with the drive and pleasure gained from people’s death and agony. There were no answers. Whoever the killer was, the person was smart, calculated, fast, and had physical strength. And just when it felt like there was a lead to the kind of victims the serial killer sorted, there had to be a change. The killing patterns of the last two victims had been so unprofessional unlike the first two. The killer had left clues all over, which was not even enough to figure out why it had been done or the motive behind the killing. The third man was Joseph Stanford, 68, the town’s sheriff had been killed by multiple stab wounds to the chest and guts. His hands and eyes were however still intact which threw the investigating team off the lead they already had. They came to a conclusion that the killer hadn’t had enough time or planned it through. Or, it was a entirely different case and different killer.

The last victim, Lucy Stales, had apparently been murdered in her own home for witnessing the death of Joseph.

Laura, seventeen, worked the evening shift at a supermarket downtown and always closed a little after 10 in the evening to catch the last bus heading to her house which she shared with her mother and step father. In all honesty, she’d rather not be home at all than be there and locked in the confines of her small bedroom, while the moans of her parents making love endlessly kept her up all night because of the thin walls between the two rooms. But now, her mother had been constantly calling her phone, worried sick apparently, but Laura wasn’t in the mood to answer any of the calls. In fact, she was mad the ringing was putting an occasional stop to the sound of music flowing into her ears through her headset so she put the phone to do not disturb after swiftly glancing at the time. 8:35. She still had about an hour and thirty minutes before she had to close down the supermarket and head home, much to her dismay.

West Coast by Lana Del Rey filled her ears and caused her heart to flutter with delight. She was a big Lana Stan and had been, ever since she was a kid and her mother played Lana’s songs endlessly, back to back. Of all the albums and songs, West Coast stood out to be her very favorite.

The supermarket was a little bit too empty and business had been really slowly, Laura suspected it was because of the news that had been making the headlines endlessly. The serial killer of Warmaukey. Even at that moment, over the counter where she had her elbows propped and her chin pressed into her palms, there was the news headline again about the two new deaths that had been recorded two weeks before. The news channel was on mute, and even if it weren’t, Laura still couldn’t hear a shit through the headphones she had over her ears.

She rolled her eyes at whatever — not like she gave a flying fuck — the reporter was saying over the television. It was pointless, she thought, and immature to keep scaring the people if there was no new watch-worthy information being passed across about this killer. It was the same old news, and she was anything but interested in it. Just as she stood up straight from her crouched position to reach out for her phone to play the West coast for what seemed like the seventh time, a hand appeared in her line of a vision, dropping a few packs of pad, tampons and chocolates on the counter. The first thing she had noticed was the tattoo on the right thumb down to the fore arm written in what seemed like Spanish. hombre de pecado. She traced the arm to the body it was attached to, and the person’s face, and fought back the instant urge to blush on taking in the man’s features.

Not everyday you got customers like this, she thought, shamelessly, and then realized the man’s lips were moving and his voice was inaudible, drowned out by the eccentric sound of Lana singing the first verse of West coast.

Laura pulled down the headset to listen to the man speak. He was pointing at the items he had atop the counter. “Getting this for my girlfriend. Is it a little too much or just right?” he sounded genuinely curious. “You should know.”

“Of course!” Laura, biting back a smile, scanned the items as slowly as she could, taking her time so she could soak in his scent a little longer before he left. Hoe, her inner voice taunted her, he looks old enough to be your father. The man did look old enough to be her father, if she had one, she had no idea where in the world he was — alive or dead — she’d never set her eyes on him, so she was killing that guilt of drooling over this man. He had on a leather jacket with looked straight out of an action movie, breathtaking, and he had a gentle aura to him. She found it really cute a man as good looking as him, sorted out time to run errands for his girlfriend.

Girlfriend? It occurred to her, a little weirdly, that he hadn’t said wife instead but that didn’t seem like any of her business. She looked up to notice he was staring at the television overhead, displaying the news channel. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the counter top, almost as if he was anxious and nervous. “Seems to me like you’re prepared for a lifetime of period supplies.” She informed him, chattily, and began scanning the products. As the machine made the beeping sounds, she added; “You might want to throw in a couple more chocolate bars. Maybe grab some ice creams as well? Trust me, it helps.”

“Oh, oh. Thanks.”

The man headed back in the way he had come, and rounded the aisle, in search of where to get the ice creams. When he returned, with a large sized vanilla flavored bowl and a couple more chocolate bars, Laura gave him an approving smile. Like a proud mother. “ You new in town?”

The man shook his head the negative. “No,” he merely mentioned. Watching the blonde girl, amusingly, like she were crazy. “Not new.”

“Oh!” Laura began scanning the new items and packaging them swiftly. “Never seen your face around here, and trust me, I know almost, if not everybody. In fact, I was born and brought up here. Never left town.”

“Never left town?’’

“Nope!”

The man shook his head, smiling, “Oh well, it sucks to be you!” he seemed just as invested as the teenage girl was in the conversation. “Sometimes, you need to explore. Let loose, you know? Go places you’ve never been?”

“For you to let loose, and live as you’re describing, you need to have money!” Laura chuckled. “If I had that, I definitely wouldn’t be working here. Besides, It’s Warmaukey, It’s like a comfort zone. Good weather. Good food. Good company. Peaceful.”

“That...” The man was staring at the television once again, and shaking his head doubtfully. “Doesn’t seem like the case anymore.”

“Okay, maybe, we’re fast loosing the peace but people never leave, it’s a comfort zone. It’s hard to just...leave.” Laura packed up the last of the items. “But if I could, trust me, I would have a long time ago. I don’t just got the resources...”

The man had tipped her a hundred dollars, quite surreal and unbelivable but it was enough to make the rest of her day exciting and happy.

Long after he had gone, his cologne and scent still invaded the supermarket and Laura’s nostril. It was a little past nine already and she spent the time checking through the store to see if everything was in place, returning back items customers had misplaced into their aisles. Few minutes after, she checked out for the day, and began packing up her things to go home. She shoved her school books, placed on the counter, into her backpack and swung it across her shoulders swiftly. When she checked her phone again, it was thirty minutes past 10 already, she had missed the bus and Laura could just tell she would have to be walking the long walk home. If she walked slowly, it was going to be half an hour walk. If she walked at her normal pace, ten minute would fall off, and if she sped walk, she was going to be saving herself fifteen minutes.

Outside, the night was more frigid than she expected, and she had shuddered against the impact of the unexpected cold. The street was silent, and apart from the distance sounds of unforeseen animals from left and right, there was no any sound made from human activities. It was a little too weird that at a time like that, people had been locked away in the comfort of their homes, when previously, even much later than that time, there were still people walking their dogs and some seating on the benches at the side of the road she was on.

But now, there was nothing.

Nobody.

Not even an animal in sight.

Laura wished she hadn’t phone away in her backpack. She could have called Cam, her male bestfriend, who lived closer to the supermarket she worked than she did. Begged him for a ride home. But she’d have to wait another ten minutes extra before he got to her. She couldn’t wait any longer. She felt antsy and suddenly needed to be in the safety of her room and comfiness of her bed. She could have been blasting an extremely loud music to fill the boredom on her walk but her headset was also kept away. Just as she was thinking that, there was a sudden twig snap, Laura gasped and looked over her shoulder impulsively. She was suddenly feeling the presence of something, not an animal, but another human. But at that moment, she was staring at nothingness. Not a single figure in sight.

The sudden fear that overtook was near numbing, trepidation caused cold sweat to break out and lace her temples and forehead. She instantly pulled her hoodie over her head, and started speed walking, no running, like her life depended on it. There were no footsteps coming after her and she could just have been running from nothing, and nobody,but she still did nevertheless.

She might not have cared about the news, but she still didn’t want to end up as a lesson to teenagers who didn’t make it home way past nine. Just as she took a bend into the main road, the sound of an approaching vehicle had gotten to her before she did see the car. The headlight flashed against her face, bright and near blinding that she instinctively shielded her face and got off the main road to be on the walk path.

The car skidded to a stop directly beside her. It was a grey Audi, not one you’d just expect to see at that part of town that wasn’t the rich segment. Believe it or not, even a place like Warmaukey which the people related like one had the discrimination between the rich and the poor. Most rich, extremely wealthy people lived on the other side of the town, where one of the biggest hotel in the United states was located, Aurelia. It was so big that anywhere you stood in town, you could still sight the peak of its Tudor roof.

The tinted window of the car slid down slowly, to reveal the driver.