planned on, just a few yards more and they would
round the outcropping of rock which would shield
them completely from the village behind them. Inside
of him the familiar battle raged. The hunger he was
compelled to satisfy versus the image of a distraught
family the young girl would leave behind. The heavy
silence within his coffin could not blot out the memory
of her brief cry for help which had been quickly stifled.
Though his hunger had been satiated the inner turmoil
in his soul raged unchecked. Oh Muriel, he thought,
what have I been reduced to? He had fed savagely. The
extent of her injuries were intended to conceal the true
nature and purpose of the attack. But once he had
begun, his own self-loathing had taken over, and he had
continued ripping at her flesh even after draining her of
the precious blood which he could not deny himself.
He felt a single, final, blood red tear roll down his cheek
toward his ear as he lay there in the darkness. He wasn’t
sure for whom he cried. Was it Muriel, or the young girl
of this evening, or the countless thousands who had
come between them? As he reached out for the
detonator he had rigged, he wondered if he might still
be so selfish as to be crying for himself as well.
He had extinguished the pilot lights on both the furnace
and the hot water heater several hours before. The
device he had fashioned was small and would never be
found by the fire investigators sent to his home. The
natural gas fed fire would completely destroy all
evidence of his existence. He could not stand the
thought of the slow, tortuous death of a solar exposure,
but in his own way, he would soon join Muriel.
59