Child's Play

"GuiGui--- where are you going?" Wang Zi demanded, his voice low and accusing.

She didn't answer. Panting loudly, her hands on her hips, she stared up into his shadowy face.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

Then she turned her eyes to the bottom of the driveway, trying to decide what to do next.

"Where are you going?" Wang Zi repeated. "Why are you out here?"

I'm not going to answer him, she decided.

I'm not going to make up silly excuse. He wouldn't believe any excuse I gave.

She stared back at him in silent dread.

"Okay, don't answer," he said with a shrug. "It doesn't matter. Let's go back inside and talk," Wang Zi said, moving closer. "Our date isn't over yet."

"No," she said, backing away. "I know who you are! Leave me alone!" Her voice was shrill and tight.

I'm going to run, she decided.

I'm going to run to the house next door. I'm going to pound on the door and scream for help.

Again, she looked past Wang Zi to the bottom of the driveway, hoping to see headlights, hoping to see FBI agents pull up, praying to see FBI agents pull up.

The street was dark. The only sound was the whisper and creak of the bending trees.

"Don't run away, GuiGui," Wang Zi said softly, his voice nearly drowned out by the hiss of the night wind. "Let's go inside and talk about what's bothering you."

"No!" she screamed, all her fear bursting out of her in that one word.

She started to run.

He let out a cry, an angry cry, a wild cry like an attacking animal.

He caught up to her quickly and threw his arms around her waist in a running tackle.

"Oh! No!" she protested as she fell forward onto the cold, hard ground. Her forehead hit the dirt hard. Her head bounced back up, throbbing with pain.

He leapt on top of her quickly.

The cord slipped easily around .

As he pulled it tight, she struggled to roll over. She turned to face him, her eyes wild with horror.

Good, he thought.

He didn't care if she watched him.

His muscles tightened as he tugged on the cord.

She made a final choking sound.

Her arms reached the air helplessly. She frantically twisted her body one way, then the other, trying to pull away from him.

But quickly she stopped struggling.

She's dead, he thought, checking to make sure she was no longer breathing.

That was easy. It took less than a minute.

So easy. Child's play.

Child's play. The phrase kept repeating in his mind as he rolled the cord around his hand, then jammed it into his pocket.

He stood up, filled with the usual feeling of excitement.

Of victory.

Of revenge.

He remembered he didn't have much time. He had to get ready for the next one.

Hebe. That was her name.

He had to kill her too.

Then get away from the house--- fast.

The FBI had never come this close to him before.

It meant he had to work fast. Real fast.

He'd kill the friend and be out of there in a flash.

This was odd, he realized. He usually didn't kill them until he got to know them.

He usually didn't kill them until after the first date.

But this was an emergency.

He really had no choice. No choice at all.

Next time he'd be more careful. Next time he'd find someone even lonelier than GuiGui.

His eyes on the driveway, he reached down and grabbed the dead girl's arms. Then he started to drag her to the side of the house, out of view.

Hebe would be driving up soon. We wouldn't want GuiGui to spoil the party, he told himself.

He pulled her to the side of the house and left her behind some low shrubs. Breathing hard, he made sure the body couldn't be seen.

Child's play, he thought. Child's play.

He was standing in the driveway when he saw the headlights brighten the street. A car came into the view.

He darted into the shadows as the car headed slowly up the drive. Then he made his way along the side of the house to hurry in through the kitchen door, which he found wide open.

One down, one to go, he thought cheerfully.

Most people wouldn't enjoy this, he realized.

But it was so easy. And so satisfying.

It made his hate melt away. All of the hate that weighed him down, all of the hate that he woke up with every morning and went to bed with every night, all the hate that kept him tossing and turning , wide awake when he wanted to sleep, all of the hate that drew him into the most frightening, painful dreams--- all of the hate melted away when he killed one of them.

At least, for a little while.

He reached into his pocket, making sure he had the cord.

Then he straightened his sweatshirt and wiped the cold perspiration off his forehead with one hand.

He stepped into the living room just as someone knocked loudly on the front door.