CHAPTER 2
The drifter stood under the overhang of the barn's side shed, trying to stay dry. It rained more here on the Gulf Coast of Texas than in Amarillo. He had become accustomed to the weather there, almost liking it. But it had been time to move again and this was the furthest that he had been able to hitch a ride. It was too bad about the man that had picked him up and brought him this far – he had been a nice guy. But that was one of the downsides to picking up hitch hikers – you never knew who you were likely to meet. Because he liked the man, he made sure that his death was quick and almost painless. He had slit his throat as he sat behind the wheel of his car at the truck stop along I-45 just north of Houston. That had been at 3:00 am. It was just after 7:00 am now, and the drifter had walked a good ways in the last four hours, although not at a fast pace. That would invite questions. He had learned over the past few years how to avoid detection, becoming almost invisible when the need arose. It was best to blend in with the people around you.
Now that he was almost in a target rich area, it was time to start planning his next series of murders. The man he had ridden with didn't count as one of his normal victims; his death was just part of what the drifter liked to classify as traveling expenses. If he liked the people that he hitched with, and he usually did, he would kill them just like he killed the last man. But if for some reason he didn't like them death would not come easy to them. There had only been three over the last four years that he handled like that.
The rain had slowed down to a fine mist and the drifter started walking again. It wouldn't be long before he was into the city limits. He liked walking; it gave him time to think and plan just how the next group of victims would die. First he needed a new name. He drew his names from an unlikely pool: the twelve Disciples of Christ. In Amarillo he had called himself Simon, so now it was time to become Thaddeus. Thaddeus was the nick name that Jesus had given to Judas, the son of James. The name Thad would work just fine for him as it had a few months ago in Odessa. He shifted his backpack to his left shoulder and headed back out onto the road, putting his legs on auto-pilot, and his brain into high gear planning the demise of his next group of victims.