Let Us Prey

This was the first story I ever had published a decade ago in Nevermore magazine.

Let Us Prey
By Carl Alves

There he is again. It seemed like whenever Cindy Matlow left work, the midnight jogger was always around. She did not know the man’s name, and only referred to him as the midnight jogger out of convenience. She was sure he had selected her as his prey.
She could not pinpoint why she felt so unsafe around the man. It’s not like he had threatened her. Maybe it was the way he looked. Hard lines sunk into his dark face, like he had been through some tough times. Maybe he had done jail time. His cheeks were sunken. His eyes looked hollow. When it was dark, they appeared to be empty sockets. His hair was in a constant state of disarray. His lips were thin and chapped. And when he ran, his tongue stuck out, not more than an inch, but it was always out.
Then there was the twitch. Yeah, the twitch was what really bothered Cindy. He could not run more than fifteen feet without twitching. It was subtle, not a jerking, spasmodic movement. Twitch, pause, twitch, short pause, twitch, long pause, twitch.
And he was always around. At least two or three times a week, she would see him as she exited work and walked the five blocks to her parking lot. It wasn’t like Cindy always left work at a regular time. She left when the work was done for the day. This was rarely before five and sometimes as late as midnight. Yet invariably he would be there.
Cindy was a computer programmer for Netware, an Internet consulting company. It was rare for Cindy to leave work before dark during the winter. When she had first started working, she didn’t think it would be a problem. Netware’s office building was located in the Old City section of Philadelphia, which wasn’t a crime ridden area.
Plus, she didn’t scare easily. She had taken self-defense classes in high school and college. She had been a competitive swimmer who still swam when she found the time. If attacked, she could defend herself better than most people. She was no damsel in distress. But that did not reassure her when she encountered the midnight jogger.
Cindy assumed he ran all of the time, since she saw him so frequently. She wanted to find out if her co-workers had seen this man. She first asked Greg, one of the programmers from her office. “He’s got dark skin and these creepy eyes. He usually has a blue jogging suit and his hair’s always messed up.”
“Sorry, Cindy,” Greg had said. “That doesn’t sound at all familiar.”
“You sure? He twitches all the time. You can’t miss him.”
Greg had shaken his head. “Sorry.”
Exasperated, Cindy had passed the description along to others in the office, but they had responded in the same manner as Greg.
This had bugged her. What were the chances that all of these encounters were coincidence? If her co-workers saw him all the time, then it would not have bothered her.
Cindy then had questioned the security guards in the building. If the man worked there, then the guards would know him. Before leaving for home one evening, she had stopped by the security desk.
“Marlon, I was wondering if you could help me. I keep seeing this same man outside the building and I was wondering if he worked here.” She gave his description to the security guard.
“I know everybody who works here and he’s not one of them,” the guard had said.
“Shit! I think this guy might be stalking me.”
The guard frowned as Cindy stalked out of the building.
The thought of being stalked by the midnight jogger frightened Cindy. Although she was physically fit, he was undoubtedly stronger. She purchased a can of mace to defend herself against the inevitable attack.
The following evening, she approached the same guard. “The man I talked to you about last night is stalking me. I need you to do something about it.”
“Has he done anything threatening or intimidating?” Marlon asked.
Cindy sighed and shook her head. “No.
“Has he approached you and tried to talk to you?”
Cindy put her hands to her hips and stomped her feet. “No, he has not.”
“Do you have anything to back up your claim that this man is stalking you?”
“He’s always jogging when I leave the building.”
Marlon frowned. “You have to understand my position. If I contact the police, they’re going to want more than that. Why don’t you get one of your co-workers to walk with you to your car?”
“But I don’t have the same schedule as anybody else.”
“I’m really sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.”
Cindy threw her hands up in the air and left the building.
When she spoke to a police officer at the local precinct, he asked her similar questions and came to the same conclusion. There was no reason for them to suspect the jogger was stalking her and that she was in danger.
“You people will only be happy after he kills me!” She stormed out of the precinct.
As the winter grew harsher, her sense of imminent danger grew stronger. When she saw him, she would scamper to the other side of the street, trying to maximize the distance between them. She also planned escape routes if he ever attacked her.
***

Cindy was completely bug-eyed. She had started work that morning at five and just finished at eight thirty in the evening, stopping only to eat and use the bathroom. Her fingers ached from pounding her keyboard for so many hours. She was going to develop carpal tunnel syndrome one of these days. She was sure of it.
She was working against a tight deadline. Her client, a small pharmaceutical firm in Malvern, Pennsylvania, wanted to get their inventory management system running by the end of the week. And it was her job to make this happen. She despised working with all the asshole scientists at the drug company. They all wanted the system to work in a different way and didn’t know anything about computer programming.
Cindy did her best work under pressure. Tomorrow was the deadline and she was on schedule to deliver the final product to the client.
She was exhausted. All she wanted to do was go home, fill her bathtub with warm water, and soak until she fell asleep. She trudged out of the office building, her eyes heavy. The first snowflake of the evening touched her cheek. Although it was soft and gentle, she hoped it would be the last. She had enough snow this winter.
She turned the corner, and there he was, the midnight jogger. What the hell was he doing out here this late at night in the cold? Fear coursed through her body.
Steam came from his mouth. His face looked dark and dangerous.
Cindy wanted to cross the street. But his trajectory was going straight toward her. She clutched her purse. The mace was inside. She prayed that she could get it out in time.
“Hello,” the midnight jogger said, his thickly accented voice came out as little more than a croak. “It cold like hell tonight, huh?”
She detected a glint of malice in his eyes. He meant to hurt her. There was no doubt. On this frosty night, he would seize his opportunity.
As if to confirm her fears, the midnight jogger stopped just as he passed her. She stole a glance at him. He bent down and appeared to be tying his shoes, a devious ploy.
Her breathing became ragged. Adrenaline replaced the exhaustion she had felt. She had to run, but her legs felt like they were made of rubber. Would she be able to defend herself? In theory, she always felt that she could, but now that it was happening, she wasn’t sure. Be strong, she urged herself.
Cindy found it difficult to get her feet moving. She glanced at him, as he stretched. This had to be an extension of his ploy.
She took the opportunity to put distance between her and the midnight jogger. She crossed the street and glanced at him. He was still stretching. She picked up momentum when she reached the end of the block. Her car was still a few blocks away. That was her symbol of safety.
She took a quick look back. He was now coming straight for her. Not only had he turned around, he had also crossed the street.
They were too close. She had to pick up the pace, or he would overtake her before she reached her car. On the verge of hyperventilating, she tried to regulate her breathing.
He continued his chase. She looked around. There was nobody else on the street. It was the perfect opportunity for him to attack her. The hunter had found its prey, but she would not go down without a fight.
The midnight jogger was running too fast. He would still overtake her. Cindy regretted wearing heels today. Normally she wore sneakers on days she didn’t meet with clients. But she had recently purchased these shoes online and wanted to try them out.
Although not in a full out sprint, she ran hard. Every so often she glanced back. He still trailed her. Despite her best efforts, he continued to gain ground. She was close to her car now. She fumbled around her purse and grabbed the keys to her Honda Accord. As soon as she got close to the car, she would use her remote entry to unlock the doors. She would jump in the car, lock the doors and peel out of there. When she got home she would call the police. This time, they would have to listen to her.
She was a block away from her car and the midnight jogger was less than a block behind her and closing in quickly. He would not relent.
Finally she was at her car. Unlike in those cheesy horror movies, she had no problem opening the door.
She turned her head. The midnight jogger had his hands in the air. “Stop,” he yelled in a hoarse voice. “Don’t run. Come back.”
She shook her head. He would not get her. Not tonight or any other night.
“Lady, please!”
Cindy jumped in the car and immediately locked the doors. Breathlessly, she turned on the engine. She was glad that last month she got rid of the clunker that got her through college and bought a new car. She turned the car in a swerving motion, nearly hitting the midnight jogger. She would not have minded if she hit him. He deserved it for terrorizing her. He jumped against a parked car and avoided the collision.
As Cindy pulled away, the midnight jogger was in her rear view mirror. He ran after her car. He was yelling, but she could not hear what he said.
Cindy drove on. Eventually she caught her breath. She could not believe how close she had come to being attacked. During the drive, she visualized what he would have done with her.
She parked her Accord in her driveway and breathed easy. Home at last. She turned off her car and then froze.
She heard movement. Before she turned around, a hand covered her mouth. She tried to scream but the hand muffled it.
In the rear view mirror, she spotted a knife overhead, so she her attacker’s hand.
He let go momentarily, but did not stop the sweeping arc of the knife as it came down on her shoulder.
She felt excruciating pain and saw her own blood hit the windshield. The knife came down again as she screamed.
***

Navid Jantua sat at the police station with his head buried in his hands. He looked up when Officer Guerrero brought him a steaming cup of coffee. He took the coffee in the Styrofoam cup. “Thank you.” Navid’s voice was raw from screaming.
Officer Guerrero sat on the bench next to him and put his hand on Navid’s shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself. You did all you could.”
Navid nodded and sipped the coffee. Despite the police officer’s re-assuring words, he could not help but feel guilt. Maybe if he ran a little faster. Maybe if he had introduced himself even once. Maybe if he did a number of things differently, Cindy Matlow would still be alive.
Navid replayed the events in his head. He had approached Cindy’s car as she closed the door. That was when he saw a figure pop up in the back seat of the car, then lean back down behind the seat. He had tried to warn her, but she drove off.
Navid had found a pay phone and called the police immediately. Within minutes they arrived, and he had driven with them in the squad car to her office building. The security guard had ascertained her identity and employer. Someone at the company she worked for had confirmed her address.
When the police had arrived outside her apartment, they had encountered a trail of blood from her car that led to her corpse.
He never thought of himself as a stalker, he just liked her. But his shyness and lack of self-confidence prevented him from approaching her sooner.
Navid sighed. “Maybe if I look a little different, maybe she stop.”
Officer Guerrero shrugged. “Don’t kill yourself. You did what you could.”
Navid wished he could heed the officer’s advice, but he couldn’t help but think that picking this evening to finally muster enough courage to speak to her led to her death.