Midnight Somewhere

Holding her naked and sweaty to me after hours of long slow sex. Filling the night with moans of pleasure that to judge from the cheering out on the street had not gone unnoticed. Wiping sweaty hair from her face. Kissing those soft lips.

Were those lips on the side of a road some where by now? Crushed unrecognizably by truck tires.

Was the woman I loved? I admit that now if only to myself. Is she...? Is she?

I slice through the thin chain and pull the gate open enough to slip inside. The growing dawn light shows me tire tracks in the mud.

A car has passed through this gate more than a few times of late. I put the small bolt cutters back into the pocket on my belt.

I hold the little LED flashlight in my left hand and the pistol in my right as I make my way inside.

I find the car sitting about twenty feet inside the ruins. The front seat covered with plastic. I know that there are probably enough clues there to keep a forensics' team busy for weeks. All the DNA's off all the victims. I'm sure that there are far more than we have found out about.

The police searched the basement of course. Years ago. After the fire. That was where they found the offices that housed Wilson Monrow's private stash of films.

The ones he went to prison for.

The one he wanted to burn but didn't quite have the time too.

I find the old stairway by following footprints in the mildewy black dirt.

The wet dank smell isn't present like I would have though. Or it maybe and is just hidden.

Hidden under the smell of a slaughterhouse. A carnal reek that hangs with that smell of blood all around the base of the stairs. I see dark stains on the floor by my feet going back up the stairs.

Seeing a light ahead I turn off mine and make my way slowly forwards.

At one time the basement may have been divided with little walls of drywall and wood but those are long gone. Now only a single large room with walls and ceiling of concrete remains. Piles of rubble make where the debris from the walls was piled up. I slip behind one of these to make my way closer. I hear the sounds of a woman's voice.

It a soft sweet purr filled with the practiced sounds that only a seductress can manage to pull off.

"It's now or never. I have no time for these games anymore. They have been fun, brought back a lot of memories but I really can't keep playing. Now where is it?"

I listen but hear only a woman crying in response.

"Pity. You had such beautiful feet."

I hear a scream that I recognize as Leia's and then the sound of something hitting with a solid thunk!

The sound of pure pain filled agony rips into me then.

I step from behind the pile of broken wood and gypsum with the Beretta leading the way.

I pause.

Not what I expected to see.

Some of it is of course. Trixon Vixon sanding over a woman's body a thick bladed cleaver, like the type used in a butcher shop to break joints up in one hand, a bloody piece of.... I retch at the recognition. My eyes go to the maimed woman on the table. My mind's identifying her even as I see it's not Leia.

Leia hangs from an old piece of pipe by her wrists. I can see where blood has run down her arms from the handcuffs. She's been struggling.

Trixon's eyes go wide as she see me come round the corner with the gun pointed at her head. I see her take a half dozen steps toward Leia even as I pull the trigger.

People shot in the real world don't go flying around like tops. They just drop where they are. She staggers. That tells me I only got a part of her. I adjust the aim then have to stop my fingers from tightening.

Trixon is to close to Leia.

I ease forwards my wrist crossed right over left, the back of the left bracing the grip of the Beretta.

I have the site right between Trixon's eyes.

But Leia is to close.

I see the old porn queen clutch at her shoulder were a red stain is starting to form. She moves just enough to hide herself behind Leia.

"Drop it Taline." I watch her arm come around and bring the big cleaver up under lei's throat. "Drop the pistol now!"

I give a half scoff.

"You've been watching far to much television if you think that's going to happen. The only reason this gun will get dropped is because I've emptied the clip into you and don't need to reload."

My eyes flicker to the woman bleeding out on the table. I slowly move over towards her.

Margaret La Sade, porn star in the late eighties. Last woman to work with the Sexy Saber for more than one film. They did ten films together, all bondage.

Her eyes come to me with a terror. My mind takes in the amount of blood flowing from her and how long it will take her to bleed out.

I have seconds.

"Trixon, drop the knife. Move over to the wall and stay there . If you do that you will live through the next few moments. At the moment this woman's life means more to me than your. I will kill you to save her."

"Save her? Save a filthy slut like her! What makes her so much better than me, Taline? She's nothing more than a whore! Nothing more than what I was. " She bring the blade up tighter against Leia's neck. "Nothing more than this little piece of filth."

I see the fear in Leia's eyes. I can see her mouth trying to move around the gag.

Then it's those eyes, those beautiful eyes, that give me the warning.

I drop my head just as the piece of wood connects! It hits me a glancing blow but the damage is done. I stagger to the floor and by reflex bring my hand around to cover the back of my head. I feel a harder second blow strike across my shoulder and back.

"Do you honestly think that I can't get out of my own S&M gear?" I hear Joshua say above me. The board connects with my shoulder again. "Do you John?"

The two by four hits again and again, raining blow after blow down on me. I take most of them across my back feeling ribs break with each. I hit the side of the table then.

I hear wood hit metal and a moan from Margaret.

I come up to one knee and bring my hand around to in front of me. The Led flashlight blinks on right in front of his eyes.

"Aye Fuck!"screams Joshua.

As Joshua staggers back from me covering his eyes I find my pistol by my knee.

The Beretta barks twice.

He just drops.

Using the table to pull myself up I look down into Margaret's face. The pale pallor of her skin tells me all I need to know. She may even now not live.

I'm out of time.

Lifting the gun I bring it to bear on Trixon's face just over Leia's shoulder. My hands are anything but steady, the damage to my back and shoulder, the blow to the head. The wet feeling down my side telling me a hundred stories of damage. I listen to none.

I focus.

That's what the school guidance councilor told my mother so long ago.

I focus.

I could die in a house fire if I was reading a good enough book.

I focus.

I wouldn't know it was burning till the pages caught fire.

I focus.

The bullet takes her just over her right eye.

Leia's earring spinning off into the darkness catches my attention more than the falling body.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

The police report says I some how got Margaret's leg truncated, Leia uncuffed, myself bandaged, Joshua's two bullet holes plugged with cloth and all the guns in the room rounded up between the time I shot Trixon and the time they showed up ten minutes later.

How the fuck I did all that I'll never know.

My memory tells me I passed out from blood loss after using my bolt cutter to free Leia.

The police wanted to question me.

The call to the Mayor made all the unwanted questioning go away.

Leia thanked me for saving her life. It may be sometime though before she forgives me for the loss of her earlobe.

The police report also showed that there was DNA from some five other women, all missing, all in the porn industry ...all friends of the late James Davion. All possible people who might know where he left a sperm sample frozen.

The one Trixon had were non-viable because they were stored to long.

Was there even a viable sample hidden away somewhere? No one seems to know that or be willing to say anyway.

My house is cold. The heats not been turned on in the weeks I've been on the case. I reach past my mother's antique grandfather clock and turn on the thermostat. I should remember to leave it on when I leave but some how I can never remember to do that.

The shower is hot at least, though I have a lot of fun trying to not get bandages wet. I made them take the one off the back of my head at the hospital. The stubble hair at the back tells me I was right. They shaved the back of my head when I was shot.

I can't look at myself in the mirror in the bathroom. It's too fogged over. Not worth the effort to wipe it clear. I'll shave later.

My computer turns on with a noticeable dimming of the lights. The monster awakens as I go fix a pot of my diet tea. I'm already missing Leia's coffee. I pop a peppermint into my mouth to take away the craving from a cigarette. Body is a temple and all that.

With a bowl of bean curd soup and a steaming mug of Darjeeling I settle down in front of the computer and bring up the net.

A quick check of mail shows me a lot of Facebook garbage. A few E-mails from friends I'll answer those later.

I click to the site.

I tap my name in blue and bring up my recent events

"Oh I got some comments on a story. Lets see." I scratch at my bristle debating about the wisdom of that shave. "Okay...lets see.

'You're a terrible write never post again.'... Anon.

'You know nothing of police procedure and should never write this type of trash.'...Anon.

'You're wasting the site space with this garbage.'...Anon.

Shaking my head I go to the forums.

"Well Let's see." I take a sip of my tea. The Splenda tastes like licking a road flare but it's better than unsweet. "Pilot and LC are going at it, Tex and Scurries doing the same. LC and Scurries are fussing as well. No surprise there. I could be gone from site months and that would be the same." I run the mouse over the link to something on Scurries post. He usually good for a sexy picture or two.

"God damn the ass on that Indian girl." Shaking my head I close out the thread and go back to the Authors hangout. "I don't know where he finds those."

I scroll through the threads I've missed in the last weeks.

"What's this?"

I open the thread.

"Ladies how long can you get fucked vaginally?" I snicker at some of the replies. "What horses ass wrote this?"

As I read I find my eyes drifting over to the phone.

Wondering.