Page 17 of Pure Killers

What seems like hours later, I've managed to shift my top leg, sliding it forward and off my other leg, which is numb from the weight as much as from the pressure of lying on cold cement. The sun is just starting to set aglow the interior of this place, and as it does it illuminates the work of the Needler. He left the door ajar, and the daylight brings a sharper clarity to the body on the table, the bright red rivulets running down his ribs and dripping to the floor. His head is encased in white plaster.

I’m just working up to rolling over, and I manage to scare away a rat sniffing at my shoe when I hear the other footsteps. My heart skips. Has Needler come back? Has he decided to remove any threat I might be after all?

“What the fuck?”That voice might be the sweetest thing I've ever heard. I almost laugh with relief as the footsteps turn to running. Rats squeak in indignation, scattering. Then Dirk is pulling me up, lifting my head and back off the floor. “Eleanor, Jesus Christ.”

“I… the…” I croak, then clear my throat, ready to try again.

“What the hell happened to you?” He does a half-frantic scan down my still-limp body, propped on his knee, and finding no immediate wound, his wide eyes come back to my face. "Are you hurt?"

With sitting, the blood seems to flow better, purging whatever it was from my system. I manage more words and even a twitch of my head towards what was the Masker. “The Needler…”

Dirk looks up over me. His face changes, hand tightening on my arm where he’s gripping to hold me up, my side pulled against his welcome warmth. "Fucking fuck…" He does have a mouth sometimes. I suppose right now, that’s fair enough.

"How… did you find…" I manage.

Shaking his head as though to dislodge this new and unexpected development, Dirk's attention comes back to me. "You're freezing. We've got to get you someplace warm. And I need to call this in."

He scoops me up in his arms. I can only hold on and bear the indignity of needing to be rescued as he takes me back down the corridor, then the stairs that I feel like I crept up a lifetime ago. My cheek presses to the front of his shoulder, his arms firm and comforting enough around me to almost lull me back towards unconsciousness.

Outside, the sun is up and light spills across the abandoned compound. The rain has generously lightened to a drizzle. I'm about to ask how I'm going to get over the wall, but Dirk seems to know where he's going and takes us past the point I climbed over, further on where wide gates are usually chained shut. But they're not now. A pair of bolt cutters lie on the cracked pavement.

Back across the sad green strip is his car. I find I can move my arms as Dirk bundles me into the passenger seat. Stepping away for a beat, he grabs the bolt cutters and tosses them onto the backseat, then comes around onto the driver’s side, turning the heaters up to full blast. I sigh, reaching my hands towards the vent.

Picking up the police radio attached to the centre of his console, Dirk lifts it to his mouth. "New Needler vic, wastewater plant, top floor, deceased. Looks like Masker. Bring an ambulance."

I cringe at the last request. At least he hasn’t mentioned me yet.

A moment later, the dispatcher’s voice comes back through. "Copy."

"Media already on the scene," Dirk adds, confusing me, but then he puts the mouthpiece back down and speaks to me, "I couldn't sleep this morning, so I tuned into that reporter’s channel. They were talking about a car outside the waste-water plant, mentioning that it looked like yours. So I came to check it out." As he’s speaking, he directs the vents towards me.

With the question of how he found me finally answered, I nod weakly. Past him, through the window, I now see the other cars, too new and shiny for this Crennick, with tinted windows. The reporters are already here. I wonder if they saw Dirk carrying me out. They'll have a field day with that. With any luck, the wait had put them to sleep.

"They’ll be here soon to secure the scene. God knows how long the ambulance will take. I'm taking you to hospital."

I reach over, gripping his arm as he goes to turn the ignition. "Please. I'm fine." Clearly a lie, and I add, "I can move." If he takes me to hospital, they'll do bloodwork. The alcohol will still be in my system. Which won't look good, to say the least.

Dirk holds still, staring at me. "Are you serious? You were attacked."

"I…" my voice dries up, and Dirk reaches into the side of his door, passing me a bottle of water. I drink the whole thing, feeling immediately better. I wriggle my toes, warm now thanks to the quickly heating car.

"You need to be checked over." That’s the opposite of what I need. He lifts his hands off the steering wheel, aghast now that the shock of finding me like that is wearing off. "What the hell were you even doing here, El?"

“I…” my voice shakes. “I thought about that sand more… and remembered this place, the excursions as a kid. I just thought I'd check it out…”

Dirk looks at me incredulously. “In the middle of the night? Jesus, do you know what could have happened?”

I close my eyes and nod. I already know how idiotic it all was, but I deserve to hear it again.

Dirk rubs his eyes, taking a moment and a deep breath as he leans his elbow on the window base, his forehead in his hand. “Did you see him?”

“Yes, but he was masked. Nothing the sketch didn’t already show us.” Then I realise that’s not entirely correct. “He has a voice alterer.” I gesture at my throat. “But it was dark.”

“Really?” Dirk asks with a heavy dose of biting irony. “An abandoned factory in the middle of the night wasdark?” I look down at my hands clamped around the empty bottle of water.“You know I should report this, report you. It's too far El, you’re going to get yourself fucking killed!”

“I know. It was stupid." I'm talking fast. I know what’s at stake- my job and with it everything that keeps me going. “I… please.”

He eyes me. “Had you been drinking?”

---