Page 1 of The Stalker

The Stalker

He was stalking her. She could see him in the big convex mirror positioned up in the corner of the cosmetics aisle. Tall, slender, ripped black skinnies and Docs, old-as-shit AC/DC sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. What little she could see of his face – chin, sharp line of his jaw, tip of his nose – gleamed pale white under the tube lights. The bill of a ballcap shaded his eyes. He kept tilting his head just so, stealing surreptitious glances, and edging closer to her with deliberate side-steps. Feigning casual, but she could see right through the act.

Annabel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Under the chemical tang of floor polish and the beauty products on the shelf in front of her, she detected the earthy scents of sweat, and man, and wilderness. He’d brought the night in on his skin, the deeper musk of fur, and blood, andwant.

She let her breath out slowly, and opened her eyes again to the technicolor display of nail polish that went from floor to ceiling in front of her. Careful, keeping her movements slow and thoughtful, she selected a shade of blue called Summer Daydreams and added it to her basket. Turned her back to the stalker and made her way slowly to the register.

She heard him take a breath through his mouth; the faint squeak of his boot soles on the tile.

Her heartrate accelerated.

It never ceased to amaze her how crowded any given Walgreens was on a Friday night, and tonight was no exception. Only one register was open, and the line wrapped around the magazine rack and halfway into the candy aisle. Anna settled in, very aware of her stalker lurking back by the Snickers display, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders slumped as he tried to look shorter, less threatening. If he wanted to blend in, he should have worn baggier pants, she thought; there was no hiding those legs, the way the long muscles in his thighs clenched and relaxed as he shifted his weight. He pretended to study the bagged candy in front of him, but she could smellintentcoming off him in waves.

She was only going to get one chance to run, and when it came, she would have to take it.

Until then, she settled in, and pretended not to notice him.

At the head of the line, a nervous-looking young couple tried to slip a box of condoms in amongst magazines and cereal boxes, the boy darting a glance over his shoulder, lip caught between his teeth like he was afraid the gray-headed woman behind him would reprimand his loose behavior. Anna smiled to herself; they were so impossiblyyoung, so worried about stupid things, like what strangers thought.

Another mirror, this one angled above the cashier’s head, afforded her glimpses of her stalker as the line shuffled forward. As harried dads buying cough syrup for sick kids and third shifters picking up sodas and candy bars on their way to work moved up one-at-a-time, her stalker worked the endcaps of the aisles, feigning interest in two-for-one shampoo and cheap flip-flops.

He was actually terrible at this.

“Find everything alright?” the cashier asked when Anna slid her nail polish, and birthday candles onto the counter. One of those required questions that didn’t want to be answered.

“Yes, thank you.”

The woman nodded, ran the nail polish over the scanner, and flicked an absent glance up over Anna’s shoulder–

Then she paused, face going blank. She’d seen the stalker, then. He was lurking, at this point, tall and skinny and grungy and soobvious, how pathetic.

“Honey,” the woman said, because this was Georgia, and strangers were kind, “do you have anyone waiting in the car for you. Your mom or dad?”

Anna decided not to point out that a question like that – and her answer – were guaranteed to pique any good stalker’s interest.Nope, just little old me, all alone: might as well turn to the guy and invite him to chase her home.

Instead, she smiled. “No, ma’am, but don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

The woman pursed her lips, worried, as she took Anna’s cash and fished her change out of the drawer, all without taking her eyes off the stalker. She whispered, “Let me call somebody. There’s a deputy who gets dinner at the Waffle House next door this time every night. He can come escort you.”

“Oh no, ma’am, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine. Really.” She scooped up her bag and gave the woman a wave. “But thank you so much for being sweet!”

“Wait,” the cashier said as Anna headed for the door. And then, loud, sharp, “Sir!” Under her breath, “Oh hell.”

The automatic doors slid open on a sticky-hot night that smelled like fryer oil from Waffle House. Heat lightning danced from cloud to cloud overhead, soft flickers, no thunder. It might rain or it might not. The night pulsed with humidity, and life, and green growing things, even beneath the hot-tar-exhaust-food smells of human business.

Anna started across the parking lot at a brisk, but unhurried walk. Counting her steps. Ten out, she heard his boots behind her on the pavement. Fifteen out, she heard him take a deep, rough breath. Twenty out, she reached the opposite curb, and she gripped her bag tight, and took off at a dead run, plunging down a hill and into the woods. He made a sound that might have been a laugh, and might have been a growl, and followed.

It had been a long time since she’d last run like this: full-out, lungs pumping, reaching with arms, and legs, and every finely-honed sense. Tree limbs slapping at her shoulders and hips, old dead leaves crushed underfoot with little puffs of mold and decay and an autumn long since passed. She’d worn her good Nikes, and they grabbed deep in the soft earth, her feet weightless as she leapt rotted logs, and buried stones and dodged across a dry creek bed that still smelled of brackish water. She felt strong, and alive; felt connected to the world and her body in a way she didn’t always, when she was pretending.

Anna wasfast.

Her stalker wasfaster.

It was those damn long legs of his.

She smelled him – dark, and woodsy, a faint trace of steel – and heard him – the even sawing of his breath as his lungs worked, crunch of leaves underfoot – as he closed in on her. “Aw, damn it,” she muttered, and then he pounced.

He caught her around the waist with one arm and launched them both into a forward tuck and roll, his other hand coming up to cup the back the back of her head and tuck her in tight against his chest. The world spun, and she heard the thump of his shoulders taking the brunt of the fall. She landed with her back to his chest, breathless but unharmed, staring up through the tangled pine branches as scudding storm clouds swept in to veil the stars.

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