Predator or Prey?

[WP] You're a serial killer who hunts other serial killers, not out of nobility, but because you love the thrill of outsmarting them.

*****

In the wild, there exists the roles of predator and prey for a reason: equilibrium. There will always need to be a hunter, and the hunted exist to make this distinction clear. The positions are subject to change; to some, the prey is a predator, and the predator would become prey when faced with a bigger predator.

Except in the case of the apex predator.

*****

I stood at the roadside, waiting for the car that I knew would soon be coming. The Nevada desert was unforgiving, and the only reason why I wasn't dehydrated or shrivelled corpse by the roadside was be side of my big one litre water bottle, which was almost empty.

If the car did not come, I would have to trek about 3 kilometres before I'd see the car I parked at a convinient hiding position. That'd be an uncomfortable walk, and I didn't even know if my body would take it.

Finally I saw a car in the horizon, and soon it pulled beside me.

"Hiya! Where's you headed?"

It was a truck. Perfect for the terrain, relatively clean and the driver was a decent looking man with a detestable accent. It fit the description perfectly.

"Southwest. Just about 10km from here if I'm not mistaken," I said calmly, looking around the car and at the man frequently.

"Easy now, fella. I'm trying to help. You can hop in," he said.

Giving him one last cursory glance, I did. It was necessary to keep up the act, at least not to throw him off. I knew what he was about, and I knew exactly how to trap him.

"You're really not gonna tell me where exactly you're going? I mean, it's okay, I guess. I've seen it before. We all have our secrets don't we?"

You have no idea, I thought. "You know it. Thanks for the ride, I really appreciate. I wouldn't have been in this situation if not for my shitty girlfriend who kicked me out of the car after an argument."

"Argument?" He asked amusedly.

"Well it's safe to say that the relationship is over. If I can just manage to get to the city I'm headed, I'll be fine."

"Oh... Okay."

He kept on driving, and I did my best not to cast occasional glances at him. I busied myself instead with thinking of how best to do away with him.

The man was my target, and I had to take care of him in a distinctive fashion like he deserved.

I couldn't do away with him in the car, that would create a mess. I'd definitely get arrested when I try to sell the car.

Strangling was out of the question. He had a fair amount of lean muscle, but that wasn't the point. Strangling always led to a struggle, and even if I was successful, I would have scratches and bruises that would be a huge red flag.

Which left the only option I had to be...

A sudden, sharp movement to my right caught me off guard. Before I could turn, there was a bottle with a nozzle stay in my face, and as he pushed the nozzle, I was sprayed in the face.

"What the..."

"Edward Kinney, am I right?"

His voice was nothing like it was when he picked me. It was a rich baritone, carrying none of the intonation or accent it did. I tried to turn my head towards him, but the effort in itself was a herculean task. It felt like my nerves were delivering impulses a hundred times slower, because my movements were so slow.

"H-how... d-do you..."

Damn it, I couldn't even speak well.

"Don't overexert yourself. What you just inhaled is a special nerve agent that keeps you in a state of incapacitation. You're basically trapped in your body, only barely able to speak or turn your head. Walking is a no-no, and so is pulling out that hammer in your pocket."

How did he know that? How did he even know my name to begin with.

"It's so cliché, don't you think? The hitchhiker serial killer. Playing on the naiveté of well-meaning motorists. You didn't consider the possibility of meeting a 'Good Samaritan' serial killer while on the job, did you?"

My eyes widened. Was this man...

"I'm a serial killer, yes. Of serial killers, that is."

Shit!

The car pulled over, and then he turned to me.

"Your car is behind those rocks, right? Hope it's clean, because I'll tow it out with my truck and sell it the first chance I get. You on the other hand, will die in this desert. By your own hammer, of course."

I was incapable of moving. It dawned on me now, the feeling that my victims must have felt. The feeling of helplessness. Despair. The knowledge that this was the end. That there would be no miracle from heaven, no human intervention, nothing.

The passenger door opened, and soon I was being dragged across rocks and dry nettles towards my car. My senses were filed, so it took a while for the pain to register. But when it did, seconds later, it was a sensory overload I had never felt before. I felt like I was pain personified.

And then it stopped.

I was bleeding, I knew that.

Then his mouth was right beside my ear, and he whispered the words. "To clarify things, this isn't about justice or revenge or anything. I just love beating you at your own game. Yours was particularly fun because you most have been thinking about how best to kill.me while I was already taking action."

I felt the blunt, thin object at the back of my head. A chisel.

"Adiós."

For an instant I heard the hammer glide throigh the air. Then there was sharp, splitting headache. And then there was darkness.

*****

I'm back from.my Read.Cash Hiatus with what I hope is a good read for you all. Good day, how are things going?

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