Cupid

It was just rotten luck. Bad enough that I get stuck in the middle of nowhere, but for a woman like me in her early 30s it was particularly frightening. When my old Buick coughed and sputtered to a stop, I knew I was in for a long night. The nearest town was at least twenty miles away, and God knows where a service station was. I retrieved my cell phone, but out in this part of rural Kansas there was no service. I knew I had only one option: I had to start walking. I took my keys, got out of the car and slung my satchel over my shoulder.

For miles in any direction, there was only darkness. The autumn night was lonely and a crescent moon was the only a light. No glare of city lights, no streetlights, only the monotonous stretch of country road which lay before me. I trudged along with only the cool October breeze and cloudy sky to keep me company. I had been walking about a mile and as I topped a hill, I saw the flash of headlights coming in the opposite direction. I frantically waved to the motorist, and he obligingly stopped. “Thank God,” I cried. “My car broke down. Do you think I can get a lift to town?” The bespectacled driver looked me over for a moment, then agreed.

Now I’m not in the habit of accepting rides from strangers, but this was an emergency after all. I climbed into the front passenger seat and placed my bag on the floorboard. “Thank you so much,” I said. “You’re a real lifesaver.” “Don’t mention it,” the driver responded. I was a little apprehensive about hitchhiking, especially this late at night. Mother warned me never to accept a ride from a stranger and she was right. I knew plenty of people who regretted it. The young man seemed pleasant enough, though, and might even be amiable company on the drive to town. He was about my age with light brown hair trimmed in a crew cut. He was neatly dressed in blue jeans and a faded T-shirt that read “MegaDeth.” He sported a pair of worn sneakers and a gold chain lay loosely around his neck. “My name is Andy,” my benefactor announced, as he stuck out his hand. “Hi, Andy, I’m Amanda, Amanda Cummings” “Where are you headed, Amanda?” he asked. “I was headed into Dalton, but for now I’ll settle for anywhere.” Andy started the car once more, and drove off into the darkness.

“Awful late for you to be out here driving alone,” he said. “I feel pretty safe,” I lied. “There’s not much out here but open farmland.” “I guess you haven’t heard about the trouble they’ve had here lately,” Andy replied. “What kind of trouble?” “Murderers. Really gruesome, too. Eleven so far this year. The newspapers call the guy ‘Cupid’ because he stabs his victims in the heart. Nasty business.” I looked straight ahead, trying not to make eye contact. He made me nervous with such an unusual opening statement, but I tried not to show it. “Is that so?,” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant. “That’s what they say. Police are kinda sketchy about it, the newspapers too. Yeah, you sure picked a bad area for a breakdown.” I was starting to feel uncomfortable not only because of the topic of conversation, but because he seemed to smile as he recounted the details. “Not only that, eight of the victims were couples parked in a lovers lane,” Andy continued abruptly. “Pretty fitting for a guy called Cupid, huh? There were also a couple of truckers, and a hooker. Can you imagine — eleven people, all stabbed right through the heart.” Andy smiled broadly, “I bet they never catch him.”

We sat in silence for a few moments until Andy blurted out, “You’re a really attractive woman.” I found myself involuntarily blushing, not only from the compliment, but from the sudden and inappropriate nature of the comment. “I… I, well, um… thank you,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, it’s just me. I tend to say things without thinking. Just an old habit.” “It’s all right,” I reassured him. “It’s just good to have some company sometimes,” he said. He paused, then seemed deep in thought about the situation. “I like driving these lonely country roads at night. You never know what you’ll find … or who. You’re lucky I came by when I did,” Andy added. “Lots of times I drive all night without seeing a single person.” Andy was starting to sound creepy so I tried to change the subject. “So, are you from around here, Andy?” “Yeah, I was born and raised in Dalton. You from the area too?” “No, I’m from Riley, about thirty miles north of here.” “I’ve never been to Riley,” he stated. “I like this area; plenty of work to do. Lots of farmland too, not too many nosy neighbors.” “Do you have family here?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. “No, they’re all dead.” “Sorry to hear that,” I replied. “It was a long time ago.”

We sat in silence for several minutes as the stripes on the roadway disappeared one by one beneath the car and the trees along the road waltzed their graceful pirouette. The moon played a mocking game of hide and seek behind the clouds, alternately shining and fading into the night. Suddenly Andy spoke and startled me. “Are you married, Amanda?” “No, I live alo… ,” I began, but cut my sentence short, thinking I might be revealing too much information. “It’s just me and my big German Shepherd, Bosart.” I emphasized the word “big”, and for good measure added, “the name means ‘vicious’ in German.” “Never much cared for dogs,” he claimed. “Had one bite me one night while I was…um…working.” “What kind of work do you do that keeps you up at night?” I asked, not really sure I wanted an answer. “Oh, just this and that.” he said, then after a long pause, “maybe I can show you.” A truly chilling realization came over me, and I began to fidget. I guess he noticed because he then asked, “Something the matter?” “Uh, no, not at all,” but I’m sure he guessed that wasn’t true.

We drove again in silence for what seemed an eternity. I wanted nothing more than for him to pull over and stop. His headlights cut a swath with the only light on the road. The moon had disappeared and the stars stayed hidden behind a layer of clouds. It was an eerie darkness made all the darker by the sinister air of my traveling companion. I looked out the window into the impenetrable night. Not a hint of another human being or civilization. Just the vast blackness of eternal emptiness.

“Nothing around here for miles,” Andy suddenly said as if reading my mind. “Yeah, that Cupid guy has the right area. I bet he could kill anyone out here and no one would ever hear a thing.” I knew what I wanted to do; what I had to do. “Please pull over,” I said, “I don’t want to be any more trouble and I can walk from here.” “Believe me, it’s no trouble,” he replied and kept driving. “It’s not much further.”

After a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, Andy suddenly remarked, “Did you hear that?” I heard nothing and told him so. “Now I definitely heard something,” he said, “sounds like the tire is getting low or something. I better pull over take a look.” Andy finally stopped the car, then turned to me and said, “Now don’t go anywhere. This will be over in a minute.” He got out and opened the trunk. I couldn’t see him but I heard him rummaging. This was my opportunity, I thought. I yanked open the door, grabbed my satchel, and jumped out. I ran as well as I could in my heels, then lay down in the tall grass and breathlessly waited for him. I was terrified when I saw a flashlight gleaming from the roadway, searching for me. My heart pounded. What if he sees me? What if he has a gun? I wanted to run; I wanted to stay. My mind raced, but I knew I must keep absolutely still. “Amanda,” Andy called, “Come out, Amanda, I’m not going to hurt you.” The beam of light came closer and closer, shining just above my head like a predator searching for prey. When the beam was only a few feet away, I saw another light suddenly appear on the roadway. A passing motorist pulled up and asked if Andy needed help. “No,” he shouted back. Then he added, “just looking for a lost dog.” “You want some help?” the stranger offered. “No thanks. I guess she’s not here.” The other motorist politely remained and waited for Andy to return to his car. He started the engine, and drove away as did the other motorist.

I lay in the grass for a moment until his taillights disappeared. I was truly disappointed. The knife I’d taken from my satchel was ready and only waited for Andy to come a little closer. I was afraid he’d see me with that flashlight and realize what I intended to do. Just think, Andy would’ve made my number twelve. Cupid strikes again, an even dozen. I put the knife back in my satchel and was resigned to wait for number twelve a little longer. As I said, it was just rotten luck.