Chapter 3
"I can't find the second guy, Bo, but I did find the other boy and girl out there in a tent," Lester said, wiping his sweaty brow with a filthy rag.
"That's because that black haired chit beat us to it, according to Vince," Bo answered with a grin.
Lester's eyes widened. "You mean we're killin' a killer?"
"Seems that way. Pretty big fun, huh?"
Lester laughed. "It's all fun for me. Where are the other two?"
"Down with Vincent. He's getting the wax melted and ready. We'll have time to get the others before he begins his work."
"Fine with me. It's gettin' dark. I'm going to go check my traps."
Bo shrugged. "Later, Lester."
He rubbed his rumbling stomach and went over to Vincent's workshop. The girls cried out behind the rope in their mouths as they saw him. "Boo!" he shouted, making them burst into fresh tears.
"Vinnie-boy, I'm too hungry to get the other two," Bo said to his brother, who was sorting iron tools. "You go get them."
Vincent turned around with a sigh and pointed to the wax, which hadn't yet been melted.
"Just go, goddammit," Bo ordered. "I ain't got time to do every damned thing."
Vincent nodded and watched his brother hurry back upstairs. With another sigh, he picked up a crowbar and a butcher knife, placing them in his work belt before trudging up the stairs and out into the dimming sunlight.
It didn't take him very long to find the broke down car the teenagers had come in, from there it took only moments to see the tent. Vincent hid behind a tree as he listened for any movement. Once he decided that the two that were supposed to be there were either gone or asleep, he walked stealthily towards it.
The sun was setting right behind the tent. Its light created shadowy figures inside the tent. Vincent froze when he heard a female voice speaking softly.
"I told you I was going to kill him," it said.
"Yes . . . but . . . but . . . I didn't think you actually . . ." a male voice cried, sounding terrified.
The girl laughed softly. "I did. With this."
From the shadows inside, Vincent could make out a female figure. It looked as if she was holding up a large knife.
"J . . . Jesus Christ, Kat!" the male voice shouted.
"You're such a pussy, Greg. That's why I don't trust you."
"What do you mean?"
At that point, Vincent decided to try to see inside. The door of the tent was only halfway zipped up. The girl stood with her back to him, black curls hanging down to her waist. A teenage boy with brown hair and eyes was reclining on a sleeping bag on the floor. He had a look of fear and nervousness on his face as he kept his eyes on the knife in the girl's hand.
"I mean, Greg darling, that I can't trust you," the girl called Kat said.
Vincent could tell she was smiling.
"That means, Greg, that I'm going to have to kill you too."
"Wh . . . What? Katrina, you don't . . ."
Katrina shrugged. "No choice, Greg. Sorry." With that she leaped forward, straddling the young man. At the same time, she raised the knife with both hands and plunged it into Greg's abdomen. She stabbed him again and again, completely disregarding the blood pooling onto the canvas floor and spraying onto her body.
Vincent stared at her in awe. He watched as she stood up slowly, kicking the body for good measure.
"Stupid bastard," she said with a laugh.
She turned around and saw Vincent.
"Oh, it's you," Katrina said without a hint of fear. "You kind of caught me at a bad time. I look a fright." She motioned towards the blood all over her shorts and blue T shirt.
Vincent remembered the reason he had come and stepped inside the tent, drawing his own knife.
She grinned at him, to his utter shock.
"How nice of you. I didn't know you came all the way over here just to help me get rid of this piece of shit's body."
Vincent shook his head. "She doesn't get it. . ." he thought. He tried to lunge at her, but she was too quick for him.
Katrina laughed. "Come on now. I'm a little tired, you know. Killing two people in twenty four hours is too much for me. My granny always said I was only a little wisp of a thing. I think if I have to kill you too, it may just completely wear me out." She smiled at him. "I wouldn't want to rid the world of someone as handsome as you, anyway."
Vincent stared at her. "She's crazy!" he thought.
"If you don't mind . . . um . . . what is your name, by the way?"
"Vincent," he replied without thinking. "Why the hell did I tell her that?"
She grinned. "Okay. Vincent. Hot name for a hot guy. Anyway, I want to go wash. Do you mind escorting me back to that beautiful river we met at last night?"
He thought for a moment before nodding. "It will save me time having to wash her body later."
"Why thank you," Katrina smiled, tucking her arm in his.
