Survival Instinct Read online

  Survival Instinct

  (The dark side of dating)

  .

  By Declan Conner

  .

  Copyright

  Survival Instinct

  (The dark side of dating)

  Copyright 2011 - Declan Conner

  All rights reserved.

  .

  Edited by, Steve Ward

  American English digital edition.

  Published by New-Dawn eBooks

  .

  For information on subsidiary rights, email in the first instance.

  [email protected]

  Contents

  Author's foreword

  Chapters

  A date with death

  Bad day at the office.

  The vacation is over

  Time for reflection

  The marriage proposal

  The singles’ club

  Changed man

  Never too old to learn

  Strange encounters of the 4th kind

  The reluctant patient

  The third victim

  Old soldiers' tales

  Uneasy feelings

  Unwelcome guest

  Friendship growing pains

  The stalker

  Speed dating

  Jamie bares his soul

  Jamie’s ‘nearly date’

  Hawaiian night

  The log cabin

  Jamie lays his ghost to rest

  Finger of suspicion

  Restless night

  The interrogation

  Better the devil you know

  Evening to remember

  Rude awakening

  The long night

  Jamie disappears

  Things go bang in the night

  The showdown

  On the ropes

  Mayhem at the station

  Can Jamie solve the messages?

  Underhand deals

  Countdown

  Two down, one to go

  Back office

  Revenge is sweet

  Author's foreword

  SURVIVAL INSTINCT

  From the moment we draw our first breath, in itself an act of basic survival, through our nurture and life’s experiences, our instinct to survive in society develops. Regrettably, it is the very nature of our upbringing that can in some circumstances of abuse, cause irreparable damage to the mind and the individual can no longer function in society. In some cases, they can become a danger to themselves and to others as nature steps in and mental illness ensues.

  For others, nature is kind and despite adversity, they manage to live a near normal life in society, at the same time hiding the scars deep within the psyche, but still conscious that it affects their persona in a social setting. There are many times in a person’s life when they have to face these hidden fears in order to survive the rigors of modern life, be it to start a new life in the aftermath of divorce, public humiliation, unemployment or bankruptcy.

  However, survival is not just about life. It can also be about our facing death. Some people know when they are knocking on death’s door and simply accede to their fate, whereas others will fight to survive until their last breath. Then there are the unfortunate ones who don’t see it coming and crash straight through. Strange then how some people will walk right in and stare death in the face in order to save the lives of others.

  Only the clever ones who have developed a strong sense of Survival Instinct will leave the door ajar and return alive.

  Declan Conner

  Contents

  A date with death

  It wasn’t the way she looked that first attracted him to the young woman. Sure, she had all the curves in all the right places and an air of confidence, but it was more what she said and how she said it that he noticed. She was only one-step in the coffee bar chatting with a friend, when a waiter tripped and spilt a coffee on her skirt. She took a step back and shook her skirt holding it away from her skin, a look of horror on her face.

  “You stupid dork!” she shouted. “Get me a cloth…quickly.” The poor guy’s face flamed. She sat down with her woman friend at the table next to his as the waiter scurried off to find a cloth. She took some napkins and placed them under her skirt.

  “You okay, Jean?” asked the friend.

  “Fine, we should get our coffee for free.” The waiter returned to the table and passed her a cloth. “What an idiot,” she said under her breath, but loud enough for her admirer to hear at his table as she wiped her skirt. She raised her voice. “Two cappuccinos…preferably in a cup.” Then she waved him off like a bad odor.

  The friend laughed. “Go on...you were saying? Before we were rudely interrupted by that flying cappuccino. Why’d you leave your husband?”

  “More to the point, honey, why did I marry him in the first place? He was such an asshole.”

  “Okay, why’d you do it then?”

  “Long story short,” she said. “I just hated him being in my space. I made impossible demands, but he was so boring he did everything I asked.”

  She’s laughing. The bitch is laughing.

  “I like the sound of boring,” the friend said.

  “Yeah, but trust me, honey, you’d tire of it in the end. God, he was so pathetic! Thank God we didn’t have any children.”

  Hearing all this, he was certain he had made the right choice. He knew she was the one.

  For a moment their eyes met, he was sure they made a connection despite her look of disdain. Maybe she’s still pissed at the waiter?

  He averted his gaze. She likes me...Jean likes me. He finished his latte, called the waiter for the check and gave him a large tip. He made his way out of the coffee bar, crossed the street and waited in a doorway. His eyes transfixed on the reflection on the glass to watch the coffee bar door. He saw Jean exit with her friend and followed them to their work. From now on, she had his undivided attention. For the next four weeks, he followed her and he noted every detail of her movements. Friday night was bar hopping night. He waited in Mick’s Bar for Jean and her friend. They entered with arms linked and laughing as they pushed their way to the bar. He watched her laugh at men’s advances as she turned them down. She’s saving herself for me. His body trembled when he saw her friend go to the restroom. Just ask her out. He downed his JD and walked over to her.

  “I…err..?”

  “Look, go away, I’m not interested.” She dismissed him with a sway of hand as if he were a gnat. What a bitch! He turned and pushed his way out of the bar to his car, conscious of his heart pumping rapidly. He sat in his car and felt the heat of his embarrassment and anger as he pounded the steering wheel. He turned the ignition, started the engine and sped off towards her house. He pulled up in the back street, opened the back gate to her yard, marched to her back door and elbowed a pane of glass, smashing it. He gave no thought that someone may have heard a noise or seen him. He strode back to his car and made his way home.

  He slumped in his armchair with the lights out when he heard his friend call out.

  “I guess she turned you down?”

  “So what?”

  “So what! You Wuss…Time I think that we should pay her a visit. Prepare everything for tomorrow night.”

  ***

  Saturday evening, he eyed his target through her living room window as he stood in the shadows of her back yard. The feminine form was unmistakable.

  The living room went dark and a light came on in the bathroom window. Through the frosted glass, he watched her undress. The silhouette of her nudity held no sexual excitement for him, but it steeled his resolve to prepare for what lay ahead.

  After pulling a ski mask over his face and checking his belt for the hunting knife, he looked toward the target. Stea
m rose from the shower vent. Checking the pocket of his one-piece overall, he felt the duct tape and his screwdriver. He pulled a pair of latex gloves from his top pocket and slid them on, stretching them over his hands in the manner of a surgeon preparing for an operation. From another pocket he retrieved hospital booties and tied them over his flat-soled shoes

  The back yard went dark as all the lights went out. A light came on in the bedroom and then quickly extinguished with the curtains still open. Everything was just as it had been on the previous nights. He felt no emotion as he waited to give her time to fall asleep. His friend joined him in whispered conversation.

  “You ready to do it?”

  “Yeah.” He breathed in through his nose. Hmm, freshly cut grass.

  “Pay freakin’ attention will ya. Ya know you gotta take her out, like that bitch six months ago. She’s scum of the earth. Gotta pay for all the crap you’ve taken from women in your life. It’s your destiny to carry out this great service to mankind. Weather’s perfect, nice and windy, no one will hear a thing.”

  The stalker glanced around and then cocked his head, always listening. The tree branches swayed and the leaves made the sound of rushing water. He’s right... the gale will cover her screams.

  “Do it. Do it now. What are you waitin’ for? Just fucking do it!” the voice reverberated in his skull.

  Time we got acquainted. The thought of exacting retribution for spurning him made him tingle. There would be no attorney to act in her defense, no mitigating circumstances, no account of her tireless work for the homeless.

  As judge and jury, he pronounced her guilty as charged! All that remained was the execution.

  Unconcerned at the sound made by his nylon overall, he rushed toward the back door and removed the cardboard from the small windowpane he had smashed the night before.

  “Stupid bitch,” he muttered.

  He placed his hand through the missing pane and unfastened the Yale lock. The door strained against a security chain fastened to the frame. He used his screwdriver to lever the fastener off the doorframe, and in less than a minute, he was in. From his pocket, he took a set of handcuffs and slipped them into his belt. As he moved swiftly up the stairway, he drew his knife. He approached the bedroom door and, with a deep intake of breath, burst into the room. With the curtains open he could make out her figure lying under the covers, one arm draped over the top. He took the handcuffs from his belt and snapped them shut on her exposed wrist. He wasted no time as he pounced, straddled her chest and pinned her body to the bed. She was no match.

  “What the. . .” she started wide-eyed when his fist crashed into her jaw. Conscious but stunned, she offered no resistance as he secured her other wrist with the handcuffs. He forced his hand over her mouth, showed her the knife and brought the blade to her throat.

  As he added pressure, he leaned forward until his lips almost brushed her ear.

  “Stay fucking quiet or you’re dead.”

  He sat up. The horror was evident in her eyes as she recovered from the blow. She tried to move her head side to side but he shoved her into the pillow.

  “Feisty aren’t ya?” he hissed.

  He dropped the knife beside her head and removed the duct tape from his pocket. She kicked her legs and pushed up with her pelvis in a futile attempt to break his hold. Laughing, he dropped the tape and struck her again on the side of the head. She shrieked under his hand and stopped struggling. Guess she had to be told twice. I figured her for that kind of woman. He picked up the tape, tore off a strip and jammed it over her mouth.

  “Not so clever now, are ya...honey? Just be still and it’ll all be over soon enough.”

  From his pocket, he took out a length of rope. After securing it to the steel tube of the headboard, he lifted her arms over her head and fastened the other end to the chain on the handcuffs. He climbed off her, stood at the side of the bed and ripped away the covers. He smiled as he watched her pull her vulnerable, naked body into a fetal position.

  “Unnngh,” a muffled groan, she sucked air through her nostrils.

  “Stop sniveling, bitch,” he said and switched the light on. “Now we can see.”

  Control was power, and all the power was his. Adrenalin rushed through his body at the excitement of seeing her shiver there, moaning for him. Suddenly, the arousal he had denied himself before ignited a fire that surged through his loins, filling him with need. He took hold of her ankles and pulled at her legs until the rope was taut. Resigned to her fate, she made no attempt to struggle as he pulled her legs apart.

  “There we are, there’s a sweet girl. Yeah, you can see that knife can’t you?” he said and calmly took out a condom.

  She turned her head aside and lay motionless. He felt no pleasure, only the pain from her body’s reluctance to participate in their union as he entered her. Frustrated, he withdrew, knelt over her again and slapped her face hard.

  “You’re supposed to enjoy it, bitch, not just lie there like a blow-up doll,” he growled and ripped the duct tape from her mouth.

  “Go fuck yourself, you piece of shit!” she shouted, her face contorted with indignant rage. She no longer looked like the young woman he had stalked; her face appeared to be that of his mother. Anger welled inside him.

  “Kill the bitch,” his friend shrieked in his ear. “You gonna let her bad-mouth ya like that?”

  “Shut the fuck up!” he yelled at her. He picked up the knife and raised it with both hands aloft.

  As the finality of her situation drained the color from her face, she screamed and her eyes widened in panic. In desperation, she started begging.

  “Please. . .please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’ll do anything. Anything you want. Please!”

  The voice he heard crying for mercy was not hers, but his own as a child. An image flashed through his mind of himself tied to his bed as his mother pounded her fists on his chest.

  “No, no, no!” he shouted. And with every ‘no’ he thrust the knife into her chest. Her eyes bulged with terror. Pleading wails turned into gurgling coughs and then stopped altogether. He felt an explosion of pleasure as the condom filled with semen, spurting in tandem with the blood pumping from her chest. He let out a primeval howl and reveled in the ecstasy of his orgasm.

  He opened his eyes. The few seconds of pleasure, at the cost of the woman’s life, vanished. For a fleeting moment, he felt remorse. Looking at the pitiful sight of her dying body, he untied the rope, scooped her up in his arms and held her tightly.

  “Sorry, mom, I won’t do it again. I promise.”

  He sobbed and dropped the body as last breaths wheezed through her lips. His sobbing stopped abruptly, as if his tears had been false. He slid off the condom, slipped it in his pocket and removed the rope and the handcuffs. Looking around, he checked to make sure he left nothing behind and started to hum his mother’s favorite tune, Yankee Doodle. He walked into the bathroom, took out a marker from his pocket and wrote a message on the mirror for the police.

  He rinsed his gloves in the sink. On the bathroom floor, he found a pair of discarded panties and reached down to pick them up. As he did this, his humming turned to verse, “Da da. Picked her knickers off the floor and made them his proud trophy.”

  He made his way to leave the house with a triumphant swagger, now whistling the tune. He stopped at a noise. Someone knocked on the front door.

  He could hear a muffled voice cry out, “Jean, you okay? Jean, open the door.”

  “Damn neighbors,” he heard his friend say. “Her screams must’ve carried in the wind. Police will be crawling all over the place.”

  With haste, he removed the ski mask, then the surgical gloves and booties. He stuffed them in his pocket as he made his way out of the house, through the yard and hurried down the deserted backstreets the ten blocks toward his car. He heard the distinct sound of a police siren growing ever closer, he ducked through a gate and into a back yard. Someone appeared at an upstairs window and he dove b
ehind some shrubbery. After the siren faded, the curtains at the window closed.

  Arriving at his car, he popped the trunk and took out a plastic bag. He’d just finished shrugging out of his overalls, when his friend joined in.

  “God, that was exciting! Now you can go back to your ordinary life and put it out of your mind. All you have to do is act as if nothing happened, just like last time.”

  “Easy for you to say. You didn’t have to do it.”

  “Just remember, without me you got no balls.”

  “Damn... I can’t find my ski mask... Must’ve dropped it back there when I...”

  “Forget it. Go back tomorrow. You need to drive out to Brakes Lake. There’s a log cabin there with a rowboat moored. You can dump the bag with your overalls.”

  “I know that, stupid. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “Yeah, well make sure you weight it down with heavy stones before you dump it in the deepest water. And don’t forget your tools.”

  “What about my tools?”

  “You’ll need them for next time.”

  “Next time?”

  Contents

  Bad day at the office

  Jamie looked out of his bedroom window and caught a glimpse of someone crouched in the shadows in his back yard. He blinked and the figure disappeared. After a few moments, he decided it was a trick of the light, closed the curtain and slipped into bed. Grabbing his newspaper and a pen, his thoughts turned to a telephone conversation with his attorney earlier in the day.

  “Jamie, Ed Carson. Divorce papers are on their way. How does it feel now that you’re free again?”

  “Great,” he lied. It signaled an uncertain future and a milestone he had hoped never to reach.

  He sat upright and tried to focus on his crossword puzzle, the taste of plastic in his mouth as he chewed on the pen cover. The wind howled and an eerie whine made him shiver. Dogs in the neighborhood barked in unison. Unable to concentrate, he put the crossword to one side, turned off his bedside light and adjusted the pillow.

  Where in heaven’s name do I go to meet a woman? Do men go clubbing at my age? I could be the oldest swinger in town. I expect the youngsters would consider me pathetic, but maybe one of them will bring her mom. Do I even want to meet someone? Why would anyone in their right mind want me? Divorced, has-been. Dear God, if someone shows the slightest interest, how would I approach her? Jamie tried to change the subject in his mind and attempted to think of something erotic. He wondered if his teenage children heard him grunt in ecstasy before he drifted off to sleep.