Marston didn’t even bother untying the the guy, he just made sure he left nothing around to identify him and then got in the car and drove off, leaving the guy tied to the tree. It would be a while before he might be found, and Marston would be long gone by then.

He was running out of places in this little burg to “play” and he didn’t dare risk many more feedings, for two of his victims had been discovered already and the area residents were getting jumpy.

Maybe it was time he pulled up stakes and moved on. After all, he had already been here two weeks past his normal month in any one place.

Hmmm, maybe he should just move over a couple of states till this whole area cooled down a little.

His decision made, Marston drove back to the motel he had been staying at while he had been pretending to look for work, cleaned up, loaded the bloody clothes in the trash bag he had brought in from the trunk and then gathered all of his stuff and hit the road, headed North.

The feeding high stayed with him longer this time, giving him the energy to stay on the road for nearly four days before the warning signs came that he needed to find a safe place to go to ground for about one or two days, someplace where there wouldn’t be much chance of anyone finding him.

The lethargy that always followed a feeding hit about midnight of the fourth day after he had killed the truck driver.

He knew he had about five hours before he became completely helpless while the nearly trance-like sleep that always followed a feeding took him, so he started keeping a lookout for somewhere he could go to ground without risk of possibly being seen and caught.

He had been driving about two hours when all at once, where one moment the air outside the car had been clear as a bell and he had been able to see miles of stars, now he was surrounded by a fog so thick he was reduced to driving with his lights on high at barely a crawl as he strained to see the road ahead of him.

He crested a small rise and then, as he began to move downward, he saw a faint glimmer of light shining through the mist.

With the exhaustion pulling at him, and discovering that he was going to need to refill the tank, he was really hoping that that light just happened to be a filling station.

He was glad to see that it was, for the car was just about running on fumes, and he still had to find a place to rest.

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About MARANTHA DREAMWEAVER JENELLE

WRITER'S USE WORDS TO PAINT PICTURES ON THE CANVASES OF THEIR READER'S MINDS. marantha d. jenelle/aka 'maradjen'

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