“Nice move…and givin’ em the finger!” Mel yelled as she snapped her head around to stare out beyond the car’s rear window.

“Screw him,” Angie shot back sarcastically. 

The trucker was tall and burly, and quickly approaching the pewter Jeep that was crammed into the middle of the left lane, waiting for the light to turn green so it could make a getaway from the menacing man. 

“Pissed him off I guess.”

“Ya think?” Mel quipped.  “You have road rage—ya know that don’t you?”

The two young women, Angela Fiore and Melissa Carter, on the off ramp of a busy mall on Saturday afternoon, had been waiting in a line of exiting traffic when the truck bullied its way into their lane, almost taking off the Jeep’s front fender.  Angie, annoyed that the driver failed to wait his turn to merge, had gassed her Jeep, swung out of her lane, sped up beside the tractor trailer, jerked her steering wheel to the right and cut him off.  She had also hung her hand out of her car window and flipped him off. Her expert maneuvers produced a rush of satisfaction that cooled her temper….until she checked her rearview mirror, saw his cab door fling open, and watched him hop quickly and easily out of the enormous 18 wheeler, and was now heading in their direction.

“Great…he’s out of his truck and coming our way Ange.” Mel noted the truck’s poor condition, and peeling silver lightening bolt painted on the side of the black cab door.

She hit her window button and closed off the early summer air—feeling trapped inside the vehicle and short of breath in the heat. “We don’t need this crap now.  You and your temper… com’mon light!”

“Don’t worry Mel,” Angie laughed as the glaring red light finally faded into a green turn signal. “I could take that jerk in a heartbeat…Bully!” she screamed as loud as she could, out her open window as the Jeep lurched forward, leaving the scowling trucker in the wake of their exhaust. 

                                                  ***** 

“Oh wah-ot a night-i-ite….” Mel belted out a line from a song as she hurried around to the driver’s side of the jeep.

“I’ll drive Mel,” Angie announced.

“No f….. way,” Mel retorted, “I feel like living…and enjoying this night,” she laughed.

“So you don’t like my driving? Chicken shit,” Angie snorted and slid into the passenger seat.

“So where to on this lovely evening…Treasure Cove? Mel waited for Angie’s vote.

“On a night like this, Back Door should be packed.”

“Ok then, Back Door it is—and listen Ange, we don’t split up—no freaking me out with any disappearing acts,” Mel warned.  “We stick together.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah….” Angie saluted Mel as the Jeep pulled onto the main road, heading for the city. 

Back Door’s parking lot was half full.  “Thank me,” Angie quipped smugly.

“Last time I thanked you, I ended up on the weirdest blind date of my life,” Mel replied sarcastically.  “From now on, no thanks.  But—thank you for what?”

“For getting your ass out of the house early so we don’t have to wait on a friggin line to get into this crap hole.”

Back Door was like many of the other city clubs; walk down a few steps into a vestibule that led to a large dimly lit room and you’d run right into a long, straight bar, tables encircling a scuffed up dance floor, and an elevated lighted stage in the rear, where second rate bands would play, hoping to gain a following.  The brass-backed stools lining the bar were already half filled with young men and women.  Rock music played from the bar’s ceiling speakers until band time, around 10:00 pm.

Angie and Melissa turned more than a few heads as they sauntered up to the bar, coolly surveying every inch of every male face and torso in the room. 

“We’re gonna work the hell out of this place tonight.” Angie grinned as she ordered a gin and tonic.

“I’ll have a club soda,” Mel ordered.  “I'm driving, remember?”

“Check em out,” Angie whispered, “the two at the end of the bar.  Give em five minutes and they’ll be over here.”

“They’re pretty cute Ange..I’ll take the one with the long dark hair.”

“Doesn’t matter to me.  They’re all the same….men—men are men.”

Angie barely got the words out, when the two young men casually made their way down to the other end of the bar.

“Can we buy you ladies a drink?”

“I don’t know,” Angie said without eye contact, “Can you?”

Mel laughed.  “Sure, I'm Mel—Melissa.”  She corrected, deciding to promote her feminine side.  “And this is Angie.”

“Nick,” the dark haired young man spoke first, directly to Mel as he motioned to the bartender.  “Can we get some drinks over here?”

“Hey…I'm Josh,” the more collegiate of the two immediately started coming on to Angie, his blue eyes sliding from her heart shaped face to the cleavage her black tank top revealed. 

“My face is up here,” Angie said dryly.

The two young men were obviously taken by the girls, who were both very opposite in appearance—and personality.  Angie was tall a tall, lean girl, built like a Victoria’s Secret model.  No man could resist her—until she opened her mouth.  Her attitude could be either a turn-off or a turn-on, depending upon a man’s personality—and desires. She had shoulder length auburn hair.  The overhead bar lights highlighted the red streaks in the thickness of her mane. 

Josh grinned and reached for his drink.  “You have beautiful eyes,” he flirted with Angie, “like emeralds.”

It would take more than a few come-ons to penetrate Angie’s bland exterior, hardened by growing up in a city loaded with crime, not to mention fighting her way out of an alcoholic household at the age of 18.  Angie had been out and on her own for 7 years, aloof and independent; she could handle herself in any situation.

Angie stared into Josh’s cool blue eyes, “Is that the best you can do?”

“We have all night.  Give me time…”

“So where you ladies from?” Nick asked, leaning an elbow on the bar, his muscular body very close to Mel, who turned in her seat to half face him.  Mel, warm and friendly, had long straight hair, matching her blonde persona. 

“I'm one of the lucky ones, born and raised here…and I'm still here,” Angie commented sourly, sipping her drink.

“How about you?” Nick asked Mel with obvious interest.  His gaze scoured her five foot four frame, as she perched crossed legged upon the barstool.  She was on the petite side, but full figured.  Mel wore a sleeveless lavender top of clinging silk, accenting her figure, exposing her well-toned biceps.  Nick was intrigued and added, “Seems you work out,” he laughed softly.  “You a trainer or something?”

“No I'm not a trainer,” Mel smiled. “But I try to keep in shape,” her smile refused to fade. “I'm from LA originally.  Been here 5 years now. And you?”

Nick, dark and handsome, was already growing on Mel.

“My family moved here from Greece—but I was born here.”

“Rhode Island,” Josh stated, staring at Angie, “wanna dance?”

Two hours of drinking, dancing and flirtatious conversations passed quickly. During this time, Angie and Mel attempted to casually check out all of the males in the bar, at times secretly and without much interest, and at other times boldly and curiously.  However, as the evening wore on Back Door became packed.  The two girls were lost in the crowd. They found themselves leaving their seats to circulate, but ending up right back beside Josh and Nick.

“There’s nothing for us here,” Angie whispered to Mel.  “Let’s check out the Cove and then we’ll call it a night.”

“Nick’s really cute—and sweet,” Mel tried to stare Angie down, but lost.  “Ok…Ok.”

“Look guys, it’s really been great,” was the first warm, honest remark of the night for Angie, “but we’ve gotta get going.”

“But it’s early,” Nick’s eyes looked deeply into Mel’s. “One more drink before you leave?”

“Sorry guys,” Angie cut in.  “We’ve got an early morning.”

“Can I get your number?” Josh asked Angie.

“I don’t think so…”

“Why not?  I thought we had a good time…kinda connected…”

“There’ve been 6 murders around here in the past 7 months,” Angie shot back seriously. “Where’ve you been?”  She picked up her bag to leave.

“Yeah, some maniac running around slicing up women…I can understand where you’ve comin from,” Nick cut in.  “But we’re not murderers,” he laughed, a bit stiffly.  “Trust me…Look, if it makes you feel better, why don’t I give you my cell number.” Nick smiled at Mel. “Give me a call..”

“Sounds good to me,” Mel smiled back, tucking away her growing attraction for this young man—for another time—another night perhaps, just not this night.

Mel was surprised when Nick bent down close and swept his lips lightly across her cheek.  “Good night.”

The two guys watched the women stroll their way through the thinning crowd, admiring their sensual confidence. 

By the time the Angie and Melissa left Back Door, the summer air had cooled.  A sliver of a moon emitted just enough muted light to illuminate clusters of dark clouds.

“Gonna rain Mel—smell the dampness in the air? And by the way, I'm fine to drive.  I'm liquor resistant,” she laughed.

“I don’t think so,” Mel didn’t stop to argue, just quickly slipped behind the wheel of the Jeep.

Inside the bar, Josh and Nick sat at the seats the girls had just vacated, huddled, talking quietly to each other.  Within a few moments they left the bar and walked out into the dimly lit parking lot—just in time to watch the Jeep’s taillights make a right turn onto the road.

“Hurry up,” Josh ordered, “so we don’t lose them….”

“Josh was really cute—and Nick was so hot.”  Mel brought the Jeep’s speed up to 60 as they headed north on route 82—in the direction of the Treasure Cove.

“Forget it Mel.  Got other things to do tonight.”

The Cove, as the locals referred to it, sat on the outskirts of the city—which was about a 20-minute drive for the girls.  Beads of light rain began to gather and scatter across the windshield as the night mist formed a fog, spreading low across the roadway.  Mel snapped on the wipers and fog lamps.

Mel noticed the headlights in her rear view mirror, hanging in the distance, pacing them around every curve.  “Looks like someone’s decided to follow us.” Although she knew she shouldn’t be feeling this way, Mel was happy at the thought it could be Nick and Josh.

Angie checked her side mirror.  Sure enough, a set of dual headlights kept just enough distance to throw the girls off.  Were they being followed?  “Take a right at the intersection up ahead,” Angie decided, “then we’ll know for sure.”  

Instead, Mel slowed for the red light at the intersection—and then ran it.  The mysterious headlights faded into the darkness of the deserted road behind them.  “Nice move Mel.  And you talk about my driving?”  Angie laughed.

“Well—they’re gone now,” Mel saw nothing behind them but blurry darkness, as she continued to check her rear view mirror.  “Probably nothing anyway—I'm a bit edgy tonight.”

“It’s not like you—what’s wrong?  Your mind still on continental playboy back there?” Angie teased, relaxed by the drinks she consumed at Back Door.

“Maybe…….,” Mel said quietly…maybe not she thought to herself.

The two young men had exited the bar, hopped quickly into a black trailblazer and made the same right turn as the girls, taking the identical route. 

“Step on it,” said Josh.  I don’t see them ahead of us anymore.” 

“Maybe they turned off,” Nick replied, passing the intersection where the girls had run the red light. “Guess we lost them—or they lost us, whichever way you wanna look at it.”

“Or maybe they’re still just ahead of us,” Josh said with confidence as he wiped fog off the inside of the windshield, then snapped on the defroster instead.

“I really thought she…” Nick didn’t have time to finish.

The headlights racing up behind the Trailblazer surprised the two young men. 

“What the hell?” was all Nick could get out as the speeding vehicle closed in, bright lights blinding them, and suddenly there was nothing but darkness behind.  A flash of lights and a blur was all they saw as it passed them.  It cut in front of them so suddenly, Nick didn’t have a chance to think, no less react, and the next thing they knew they were off the road, stopped on the soggy grass just beside the guardrail.

“They’re back,” Mel felt a rush overtake her.

Ominous headlights reappeared behind them, creeping up to close in, then dimming as the vehicle behind them sped up to the Jeep’s bumper and then dropped back—again and again.

“Cat and mouse,” Angie stated, relatively unaffected.  “Probably some drunk from Back Door.”

“I hope…you don’t think it’s them, do you?” Mel was disappointed at the thought that Nick might behave this way.

“Who the hell knows—but they better cut this bull.”

“Oh shit Angie!”  The vehicle closed in on them, bright lights blinding them, then it quickly sped past the Jeep, remaining in the passing lane.  The rain had ceased and through the mist the girls watched the length of the trailer flash quickly by, only to disappear around a curve in the road.

“Some kind of idiot or what?” Angie let out a sigh of relief.  “Much rather have that asshole in front of us…slow down…there’s a …..”

As the Jeep slowed and rounded the curve, their headlights caught the jack-knifed trailer too late.  Although Mel stood on the brakes, in seconds the Jeep smashed into the side of the trailer.  They didn’t have a chance. After the airbags deployed, there was silence.

Mel felt trapped— although the airbag hung limply over the dashboard, she was suffocating.  Instinctively she reached for the door handle. “Angie, you ok? Let’s get outta here.”  The door was jammed shut.

“F….asshole,” Angie was groggy.  “When I get my hands on that lunatic…”

Mel kicked the door open and slid out.  A light trickle of blood ran from her nose.  She stood on the wet pavement staring at the cab of the 18-wheeler.  From the glare of the Jeep’s headlights, she saw the peeling silver lightning bolt painted on the door…and things started to fall into place.

Her heart began to race as she watched him appear through the fog. 

There he was—the same tall burly figure—the nightmare of a man from the incident in the parking lot, earlier that day.  Only this time he walked faster.  His face was twisted by anger...and something else.  Insanity.  Mel knew they were in trouble when she saw the carpenter’s belt slung around his thick midsection, stuffed with a variety of tools; screwdrivers, pliers, hammer.  At that very moment, Mel knew more….

He held a large butcher knife in his left hand.  Before she could move, he was upon her, spinning her around.  Mel felt it must be a bad dream; the car crash—the trailer—this madman.  She lost her balance, only to be caught by the grip of his massive hands.  He was behind her, knife to her throat.  Mel could feel the long blade against her skin.  He pressed the blade so hard, she thought it was cutting into her and held her breath.  The tools in his carpenter’s belt dug into her spine.  Oh my God! She thought of Angie in the Jeep. “Angie!”  she managed to gasp.  “Angie!”

Unaware of what transpiring on the other side of the Jeep, Angie was in the process of forcing her door open when she heard Mel’s scream. She felt stiff but alert as she ran around the Jeep.  She immediately saw the illuminated black cab.  Her eyes then settled upon Mel, with a butcher knife to her throat.  She sucked in her breath, yet refused to lose her cool.

“Scared little bitch..”  Mel felt his foul breath on the side of her face.  She felt sick.

“So— what do you—prey on little girls?” Angie antagonized, hoping to anger him enough to release Mel and lunge for her. 

“Yep… I slice em and dice em,” he replied matter of factly. “And your in my necka the woods now – this is my hunting grounds.  I watched you two,” he sneered, “with those two in the bar.  Knew I had you—till I went to the head, came out and you were gone—but I caught’cha little bitches—yeah I gotcha. Left right after em two—took care of em for you—ran em clear off the road.  They won’t be back…”

Angie would have noticed a truck of that size in the Back Door’s parking lot?  She wondered how and why…and where his truck had been parked? 

“So you park your rig on the side road, next to the Back Door and wait for girls to come out?”

“Yep.”  He seemed proud to announce.  “And I do use the back door of the Back Door,” he roared at his own sick humor.

“You think you’re a cool smartass, huh?” Angie taunted—eager to make a move. 

“Sure do. And in a few minutes—when I'm done with your friend here… I'm gonna cut off that finga you stuck out the window,” he stopped laughing.  His words were raspy and menacing.  “Shove it in that big moutha yours—shut you up bitch.”

Mel’s mind was whirling—timing—she needed to time this just right—if she didn’t want her throat slashed.

“Slash an dice,” he growled.  “You’re all just sluts—laughing in the bar.  Screaming, yelling, pissen me off…nasty bitches piss me off.  Sluts piss me off.  Yeah—then I wait for em outside—some get away—but I got six….”

“It’s him!” Angie wanted to yell.  He hacked up those poor girls!  But instead she continued to try to wear him down, draw his attention from slitting Mel’s throat.

“Come on—take me on.  What…you only go for little girls? Is that all you can handle? Huh?  You scared of me asshole?”

“Get off the road,” he ordered Angie as he began to drag Mel with him.  The pressure of the tools against her back sliced into her spine.  She was in a death grip.  He was forcing them off the road, about to force her over the guardrail, into the woods.  There wasn’t much time…

“Dice’er up—just like the others….”

The glare of oncoming headlights distracted him.  Mel, working on pure adrenaline—delivered a sharp upper cut with her fist and twisted away.  The knife flew from his hand.  He staggered in surprise.  No one had ever escaped the strength of his large hands before…

Angie lunged for him—kneed him in the groin, then tackled him to the ground, smashing his face into the pavement as she jerked his hands behind his back and straddled him.  He was down and dazed—momentarily unable to resist.

“Not to my partner you won’t—bastard,” she spat.  “Mel cuff em.”

Within seconds Mel ran back from the Jeep with her handcuffs and Angie’s .38.

The black Trailblazer pulled up just as Mel clicked the cuffs onto the thickness of his wrists.  By then, Angie had her gun pointed at the back of the killer’s head, still forcing his face into the pavement.  Josh and Nick jumped out and ran toward the girls. 

Mel slipped the straddled man’s wallet from his pants pocket.  Using the flashlight from his own tool belt, she flipped through the wallet, finding his driver’s license.

“Mel—call for back up…”

“What the hell’s going on?” Josh was stunned and confused.

“Long story,” Angie looked up at him.

“Holy shit—under cover……” Josh shook his head in disbelief.  “Just when I thought I’d seen it all…two gorgeous professionals—I'm impressed.”

“All in a night’s work.”  Angie grimaced as she continued to restrain the killer.

Nick stood his ground, still trying to digest the immensity of the situation.  “I had no idea…” he said to Mel, “I mean in the bar, you seemed so…”

“Normal?”  Mel grinned.

“Yeah—I guess,” he laughed.

“And I have a little problem with road rage, right Mel—but look what it caught us.” Angie snickered. “A killer…I was wrong this morning—you’re not a bully…you’re a murderer,” she pressed the barrel of the gun hard against the killer’s head, as the sound of sirens grew stronger. 

“I could use that drink now,” Melissa looked at Nick.  Her eyes twinkled in the moonlight.