THE PREDATOR
Wren wakes up very late and mopes around the house for sometime before she realizes it is Sunday. It is late but she figures she can still make mass at the Cathedral. She changes into her one remaining business suit and hops into the Mustang. She arrives shortly before twelve and walks quickly around the large granite building. She walks up the stairs to the large wooden doors and pulls one open. When she steps inside, the cool air and piece of the building quickly settle upon her. Outside is the noisy modern world but inside all is quiet except for the pipe organ’s playing. As always her eyes are drawn to the intricate mosaics that cover the ceiling. She walks about half way up the aisle of pews and steps into a short empty pew. She pulls down the kneeler, gets out her rosary and starts to pray. She is stopped by the beginning of mass but that’s why she is here. When mass ends she kneels back down and starts to pray again. It is close to two when she finally leaves the church. She heads over to Cahokia Mounds just over the river in Illinois to look around for a while. She meets up with one of the curators and gets into a long discussion with them about some of the articles found at the site. When the museum closes she wanders around the mounds studying them and imagining the city that once was here. It is getting late when she arrives home that night. She hasn’t heard from Norman all day and there is no sign that he was here in her absence. As much as she doesn't want to have him hurt in what would soon become her life she didn’t want it to end like this.
Monday morning comes fast and Wren is at her new job bright and early. The assistant manager issues her a locker and assigns a woman to teach her the ropes. By lunch Wren was waiting tables on her own and is quite comfortable talking to any complete stranger that walks in. She is already becoming accustomed to some of the remarks and proposals that come with the job but finds the tips quite make up for it. After lunch things get a little quiet and a couple of the girls start showing her a few tricks with the poles on either end of the stage. She watches the dancers and studies their form to try and pick up any ideas she can. She leaves at five which is when the real tips can be made but she has already worked nine hours and she just is not used to being on her feet this much let alone being in tall heels. She picks up the mail as she enters the driveway. A couple of bills and a catalog from Cabella’s. She hits the shower then grabs a sandwich and a glass of tea stretches out on a lounge chair on the deck to work on her tan.
The rest of the week goes pretty much the same except that she works later and later into the evening everyday. Friday though finds her at home practicing with her guns shooting into an earthen berm put in by her grandfather for just such a purpose. It takes her several hours to get the hang of the jacket gun, to make it fire when she wants and not when she doesn't. Aiming is straightforward though whatever her arm points at is what is shot. The laser sight will help but she finds in the daytime it is really useless. She cleans up early and tries to take a nap in the afternoon. At half past seven she throws her leg over the bike and heads for St. Louis hills. Pulling on to Nottingham she waits; pulling out a map to study so no one will get too suspicious. After about five minutes she decides it's too risky to wait right here and heads down the street. She pulls up into a parking lot on Chippewa and waits for him to pull up to the turn across the lot from her. It is just getting dark when she sees his Monte Carlo and she pulls on the street behind him. She eases her bike alongside his car, raises her left hand as she matches his speed and the driver's window. Wren’s timing is perfect as she pulls the shot the force of which causes her to slide left and into the fork that is Watson road. He has no idea what has happened as the bullet passes through first the glass and then his head.
“Well now let’s see if mark number two is still home.”
She heads a short way up Watson and hangs a right onto Mardel. Then crossing five more streets is within eyesight of her prey.
“Well, nice to see he is still waiting on his ride, so let’s see if we can make his wait a little shorter.”
She pulls the Russian nine millimeter out of a case on the side of her bike and unfolds the stock.
“Now, don’t move and you won’t feel much, for long.”
She squeezes the trigger and feels the gun rare back into her shoulder. The characteristic roar of a magnum replaced by a quiet Pfft. She watches him through the scope as his head is obliterated into a spray of blood and brain tissue spraying the wall behind him into a Rorschach test. While his body falls to the ground like a limp rag doll twitching in the porch light. She quickly puts the rifle away and heads off down the street.
A left on Brannon and another on Tholozan puts her very near her next mark. Once again she pulls out her rifle and unfolding the stock pulls it up to her shoulder. Looking through the green glow of the night vision scope she can very clearly make out the address on the mailbox.
“Now is he still home?”
She can see him as he walks around the house to stand on the front porch. The glow of his cigarette shines brightly with each drag he takes. His constant shuffling from one foot to the other offering her a clear all around view.
“Yes! he is and just like guy number two the dummy’s going to wait on the front porch for a ride that’ll never come.”
PFFT!, and again blood and brains fill the air as she is already putting the gun away on her bike.
“This is too easy. Now to go get my next mark.”
Well the novel is in the hands of my proof reader and once the corrections are noted and entered we will see this in print!
If you need more Maura in your life or want to help Maura get her work shop up and rolling MauraAlwyen.com
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