Sanity | Ghorror [C]

Chapter 22 | Route 90 Diner

Finally, we got done with that slimy guy and he took off. It was just Ricky and I now. Just the way I like it. Him and I got out of the car. Ricky let himself another cigarette while he watched me. I opened the trunk, seeing how sad and empty it was. Not really, but it was a sad site. There was actually a fake bottom to the trunk. We actually did have a few handy man tools on top of the fake bottom.

I handed the tools to Ricky. He'd be needing them to switch out the plates with another car's. Then I popped the false bottom, revealing murder weapons stacked on top of each other. They were all different kinds. It must've looked like the pieces to a Clue board game. So many wonderful choices too.

"We should get out of here soon. We need to get over state lines, so don't have too much fun." Ricky said.

I picked up a handgun and slipped it into the waistband behind my back. "You're no fun." I teased him.

"Fine, you can set the place on fire if you want. Just make sure you set it up so we can be far down the road before the diner is up in flames. Is that a good compromise?" He asked.

"I guess." I replied with a fake sigh.

I giggled at the smirk he made. Then I stole a kiss from him and started walking towards the front door while Ricky closed up the trunk.

"And hey! Make sure you salvage whatever food you can!" Ricky yelled to me.

"It's a truck stop diner! They're going to have greasy gross food." I responded.

He looked up from the car at me. "Devin, it's food."

I know he's right. I just don't want to eat that crap. I'm sure there's some fresh fruit or canned goods I could find. There's got to be something. If nothing else, we'll get food somewhere else. It's not a big deal because neither of us eat that much.

As I walked inside, I took a look around. There was an old truck driver having coffee at the counter while talking to the equally as old waitress. Two girls with little to no clothes on were sitting at one of the tables. I think they were prostitutes. Good. I like getting rid of filth. A small redneck family was sitting at a booth, and I assume there was a chef in the back. This will be fun.

There was a small TV hanging on the wall behind the counter. The news was talking about us breaking out. My picture was right up there. When I walked in, everyone turned to look at me. Their jaws dropped. That is the true definition of dear in headlights.

"Well," I said as I turned towards the door again. "This is going to be interesting."

I turned the OPEN sign to read CLOSED to the outside. You could've heard a pin drop in that room. No one made a move. They were terrified of me and I fucking loved it. I saw the waitress reaching for the emergency button under the counter. With a sigh, I quickly drew the pistol and shot her in the head. Her blood splattered across the back wall as her body slid to the ground. The chef looked through the kitchen window and I decided it'd be best to get rid of him too. I shot him through the little window and took him down in with one bullet.

"Anybody else feel like being a hero?" I asked aloud as I scanned the room with my eyes.

Not a sound. Hopefully I get some more fun kills than that, damn. If this all turned to a simple shooting, it would be fucking boring. Though the gun was still hot, I had no problem putting it back in my waistband. It was cold outside so the heat was actually kind of nice. I was about to head towards the petrified prostitutes, but I stopped myself when doughy eyes caught my stare.

The damn rednecks had to have a little girl, didn't they? I do have some morals, believe it or not. Though these two parents looked like brother and sister. Inbred disgusting bullshit. That kid needs to be put out of her misery. I began to walk closer to the table they sat at.