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Although, as he reached the small town of Fairshore, he slowed.
It would be better to go further afield, because he didn't want to focus attention too close to where his bunker was situated. It might take a few more days, perhaps even a few more weeks, until the devastation of the apocalypse unleashed itself. And during that time, he knew, law enforcement would be busily hunting away for him. If his hideout was uncovered, then all his plans and all his work would be for nothing.
One day, he would be commander of the new world, a man of absolute power. That was his destiny. But until then, he had to be careful.
He didn't want to risk anything going wrong now.
He veered out of town and rejoined the highway. There was time to spare, after all. The assets would only be more terrified if they waited longer.
And he would enjoy that.
"I can't wait, my beauties," he hissed. "I can't wait to show you what you are going to experience, and what will happen to you if you step out of line. That will be the last of the trouble."
Anger surged again as he remembered the loss of his carefully chosen asset. She was gone now, but at least he was sure that having escaped in the night, she couldn't draw anyoneback to where he was. But even so, it was more important than ever that this didn't happen again.
He liked the idea of his assets being terrified of him, shaking in his presence. He’d never thought it would be so deeply satisfying to him, but it was something that he’d discovered about himself as his journey of acquiring them had progressed.
It almost seemed, at times, as if their fear was more important than anything at all. Even their skills, their future as part of his new world order.
Hitting the gas, he sped ahead, aiming for the bigger town of Chestnut Hill a few miles on. Going there would be a wiser decision in every way. It would give him a bigger pool of victims to choose from. It would make it less likely that the police looked outside of Chestnut Hill for the perpetrator. Bigger places always attracted crime, after all.
A few times in the past when he had taken his assets, to point the police in the direction of murder, he had spilled blood at the scene. It hadn’t always been possible, but he’d done it where he could. A head wound bled a lot, but if it didn't, then he would simply nick their wrists and let the blood flow out onto the bed, the pillows, the floor. By the time they woke, the wound had healed, so there was no risk of a victim losing too much blood.
After all, he didn't want unhealthy captives. Every woman he chose had to be fit and healthy, ready to endure the distance with him.
But this time, he wouldn’t need to make the police believe it was murder. This time, he would simply grab an asset. Speed and timing would be his friends.
There, ahead of him, was the town.
Smiling, he turned into it, winding his way along the roads. He was keeping an eye out for what he needed, even though he was not totally sure yet what it would be.
This was very different from the careful planning he'd done in all his earlier grabs. This felt exciting as if new horizons were opening up to him. New possibilities.
Yet again, he considered the fact that he should take more than one victim this way. Because one might not be enough to convince the group of women in his bunker that he meant business. He might need to repeat this exercise. Tomorrow, maybe. Repetition would be helpful to them. And rewarding to him.
The survivalist knew what he was looking for. One woman on her own, in an area where nobody was watching. He wanted an easy target to grab. This time, he would not be going into their home. This time, the asset he wanted would simply disappear.
But quick as it was, he was not going to make it rushed. He was too clever for that. It had to be done correctly. He had to take a victim who spoke to him, who called to him, one that he would relish when it came to the kill.
He passed a few. There was a woman walking along the sidewalk carrying a shopping bag. But as he slowed, glancing at her, he decided against it. There was something in her face, a strength there, that put him off. He didn't want strong for this asset. He needed weak, pliable, a woman who would show her terror visibly. He needed the others to feed off that fear.
"You're too strong," he muttered. "I don't need strength. I need someone to act the way I want them to. That's the only thing that will work."
Smoothly, without her having even noticed him, he sped up again.
There was another woman crossing the road, but as he watched, she waved to someone ahead. That wouldn't do either. He needed someone who was alone for now. It would not work for him if anyone else saw. Grabbing someone in broad daylight was audacious enough.
He didn't want to raise more suspicion.
He kept driving around. It was becoming increasingly important that he find someone soon. There was blood rushing through his veins with impatience. He was becoming worked up and anxious. He needed the process to begin, because he would have to keep her alone for a while when he got back. He didn't want someone who was still groggy from a blow to the head. He'd have to put her in solitary until she was fully aware.
Only then could he take her through and do what he was yearning to do.
He turned down a side road that bordered a park. On the other side were a row of warehouses, their windows blank.
And it was there he saw her. Immediately, he sensed this was his perfect prey.
A young woman, slender and fragile looking, with a face that was sweet and pleasant. Her hair was dark and wavy. She was walking along the sidewalk toward him and seemed to be heading in the direction of the bus stop on the corner.
