Scott unzipped the front of his orange prison jumpsuit and stepped out of it. He didn’t have much time. His escape from the state correctional facility would be discovered any minute. Soon the county would be overrun with law enforcement. He quickly stripped the dead farmer’s clothes and donned the blood stained blue overalls and flannel shirt. Last he put on the heavy jacket. In one coat pocket, he slipped the shank and threw the prison jumpsuit into some nearby bushes.

            From his position in the trees, he heard the whine of car and truck tires upon asphalt. A highway had to be close. Scott let out a nervous breath. Sweat from tension beaded on his forehead. The next part of his escape was crucial and risky. He needed to hitchhike out of the county and get as far away as possible.

He made his way through the woods until he reached a barb wire fence. A few yards beyond laid a two lane blacktop. A semi-truck roared by in a rush of metal and wind before disappearing around a bend in the road up ahead. Using his bare hands, he stretched the barb wire and slipped through. Once on the other side, he turned up the coat collar and walked along the grassy shoulder. As each vehicle came around the bend he put out his thumb. A dozen cars rushed by but none stopped to give him a ride. Time was running out, he knew. His gut twisted with fear. At any moment the next car could be a state trooper.

A large auto rounded the bend just as he stuck out his thumb. The vehicle slowed and pulled over to the shoulder a few yards ahead. Scott guessed it to be a Chrysler from the early seventies; a throwback from a time when people weren’t concerned with MPG. Painted in a shade of burnt umber and peppered with old rust spots, the big car idled on the side of the road as he ran up to the passenger side. He opened the door and stuck his head in. Behind the wheel sat a young woman in a long paisley dress and mousy brown hair pulled back in a tight bun. Round glasses gave her the look of a librarian or Sunday school teacher. She looked straight ahead and did not turn to see him.

“You need a ride?” She asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes.”

“Climb in.”

 Scott slid into the seat and closed the door. “Thanks.”

“My mother always told me never to pick up hitchhikers,” the woman said as she put the big Chrysler out of park.

“I’m glad you did. I’ve been walking for a long time.”

Scott looked around the interior of the old car. A bobble-headed figurine of Jesus was mounted on the dash before him. As the car drove off the rough shoulder and onto the highway, Christ’s head bobbed side to side. Scott thought the warbling head of the Messiah looked ridiculous sitting on the dash. On the seat next to the girl rested a frayed Bible. Music from a local Christian station played over the radio speakers. No surprise the only one who would stop to give him a ride would be a raging Christian. Even though he was sure to get an earful about the glory of God, at least he was leaving the correctional prison behind him. He would listen to any amount of preaching to keep from going back to that hell. He forced himself to relax and eased back against the car seat.

“I’m Scott,” he said.

“Emily.”

“Where you going, Emily?”

“No where in particular. I’m just taking a Sunday drive searching for those in need of rescuing. You looked like someone who needed to be saved. Where are you headed?”

“As far south as I can go. I heard there was work in Texas,” he lied. He needed to get to Mexico.

“No. I mean where are you headed in your life, Scott?”

“Oh, that.” He let out a sigh. He knew what was coming next. He focused his attention on the wobbling head of Jesus. Let the preaching begin, he thought quietly to himself. “Some would say I’m lost”

“Do you believe in God?”

“I never thought about it, I guess.”

 “Have you ever sinned, Scott?”

He wanted to laugh out loud. He had just murdered a man in a field a couple of miles behind them. “I’ve done some bad things.”

“Sin is a terrible thing. It creeps up on you like a snake and wraps you in its filth. Repenting and being washed in the blood of Christ is the only option to a life of sin. Are you ready to repent?”

“Repent?”

“You need to repent your sins. I’ll be your witness before God.”

“Is this what you do? Drive around looking for sinners to repent? What if I don’t want to repent?”

 “The wages of sin is death,” Emily said in her quiet sheepish voice.

A moment of awkward silence passed between them with the only sound being the gospel music coming from the radio. He knew he had to tolerate this church mouse until he got clear of the area. How far could she take him? He looked at her ring finger. No wedding ring. Good. No one is waiting at home if he is forced to make her drive him out of state. She might be attractive if she let down her hair and put on something besides a floor length paisley dress. After being in prison for three years, he may have to add kidnapping and rape to his criminal history. She probably wouldn’t be missed for days.

He turned his attention to watching the countryside roll past outside the passenger window.

“The wages of sin is death,” she said again breaking the silence.

 He turned his gaze back to her. “Listen, I don’t –“

A sudden announcement cut into the constant gospel music on the radio. “This is a special alert from the WKJS newsroom. Law Enforcement officials in a tri-county area are on a manhunt for an escapee who is armed and extremely dangerous. The person is described as being a ---“

Scott shut off the radio.

“Why did you do that?” Emily said shocked. “I wanted to hear that?”

He pulled the shank from the pocket of the coat. The honeymoon was over. “Shut up and drive, bitch, and I won’t hurt you.”

“Oh my God.” Fear showed in her eyes as she stared at the shank.

“This just shows you should’ve listened to your mother.” He chuckled. It’s time church girl learned just how bad a man he was. “Just keep driving and shut up about all that God shit. You don’t even know me and you’re talking about saving my soul. Keep your holier-than-thou righteous bullshit to yourself.”

“You need to repent your sins.”

“Shut the fuck up!” He reached out and broke the stupid bobble-head Jesus from the dashboard. He threw it into the floorboard. “I’ll stick you in the trunk if you don’t shut up about that.”

Emily went quiet.

Scott rubbed his temples. White hot anger caused his head to pound. How had the radio got the bulletin out so quickly? He needed to think things through and form a strategy to save his ass and get out of state.

“Are you going to kill me?” Emily asked in a weak voice.

“Not if you do what I say.”

Emily nodded.

“What’s the next town?”

“Cooper.”

“How much gas do we have?”

“Not much. It’s near empty.”

“We’ll have to buy some in Cooper. Do you have any money?”

“I don’t have any.” Emily started to cry. “Why did you break my Jesus?”

“Pray I don’t do the same thing to you.” Scott felt his anger rise. “How come you don’t have any money and no gas in this piece of shit?”

“I just don’t.” Tears began running down her face.

He watched the road ahead as they topped a hill. Below was a green valley with a small town nestled at the bottom? A white water tower with the words Cooper painted upon it rose above the cluster of houses and businesses.

“At the first station, pull in for gas.”

“Okay,” she said wiping the tears from her face. “I’ll do what you say.”

The car continued down into the valley and the outskirts of Cooper. A small Sinclair station sat just inside the city limits. Two old-style gas pumps were parked in the front under a metal awning. Scott studied the gravel parking lot. No other cars except for an old pickup truck. The place looked empty of customers.

“Pull in there,” Scott said waving the shank.

Emily turned into the gravel of the parking lot and halted the Chrysler before the pumps. An old man wearing a Sinclair uniform shirt stepped out the front door and started walking slowly toward the car.

“What the fuck?” Scott asked. “They still give full service here?”

“That’s Mr. Green, he’s worked giving full service here for over fifty years.”

“Shut the engine off.” Scott said.

“What are you going to do?” Emily asked with fear wavering in her voice.

“Rob him.”

“Oh no.”

The old man tapped on the passenger glass and Scott cranked it down. He kept the shank hidden from the man’s sight just below the window. He guessed him to be at least eighty years old. The name Mr. Green was monogrammed on the front of his uniform shirt in red stitching.

“What can I do for you?” Mr. Green asked.

“Fill her up. Unleaded.”

“Will do.”

The old man made his way to the gas tank lid and stuck the pump nozzle in. The ancient pumps started ringing off each gallon pumped. Sweat from tension poured down Scott’s back and soaked the flannel shirt taken from the farmer. He knew what was coming next. He was about to do a bad thing.

“Sit perfectly still and you don’t move,” Scott told Emily in a low voice.

Mr. Green sprayed the Chrysler front window on the passenger side with a bottle of windshield cleaner. His rheumy eyes met Scott’s for a brief second.

“Lovely morning,” he said while wiping the spray with a red rag.

“Yes,” Scott replied through the open passenger window. His heart pounded hard in time with the ringing of the gas pumps as the old man made his way over to the driver windshield.

He began to spray and then stopped. The next instant Mr. Green threw down the spray bottle and started running toward the front of the station as fast as he could on his old legs.

“Fuck.” Scott leaped out of the car. “He made me.”

Charging across the gravel lot, Scott reached the front door of the filling station and swung it open. Mr. Green was behind the counter trying to dial a number on the phone.

“Put the fucking phone down!” He shouted brandishing the shank. “Now!”

The old man dropped the receiver and raised his hands. “What do you want?”

“Open the register.” Scott came around the counter and stuck the shank against the trembling man’s back. “Give me all the money.”

“Sure,” Mr. Green hit the button on a register which was probably as old as he was. With a ringing noise the till popped open. The old man grabbed up the bills. “Have it all.”

Scott suddenly remembered he left Emily in the Chrysler. She had the keys and could drive off and leave him! He glanced through the streaked front windows of the station. The car sat unmoving at the pumps.

“That’s all of it?” he asked as Mr. Green placed the bills on counter glass.

“Yes.” The old man shook with fear.

Scott estimated there was only about seventy dollars total. He snatched up the bills and stuffed them in the pocket of the overalls.

“How did you know?” He grabbed Mr. Green by the front of his uniform shirt.

“The radio … I heard the announcement.” The old man’s eyes were wide with terror. In all the excitement, Scott didn’t hear the low gospel music playing on a small radio sitting on the countertop.

“If I leave you alive, you won’t call the police?” His temples pounded with tension. He knew what he was going to do next. A bad thing.

“No … no I won’t.”

“Fucking liar.”

Scott grabbed Mr. Green, turned him around, and yanked back his head. He cut straight across the old man’s throat with the shank. Blood sprayed across the counter and cash register in a fountain of crimson. Scott lowered the man’s dying body to the floor. Straightening back up, he glanced out the front window. The Chrysler still waited by the gas pumps.

Exiting the station, he crossed the gravel to the car and pulled the nozzle from the gas tank. He glanced through the rear windshield. Emily sat waiting behind the wheel. Why didn’t she run? He put the nozzle back on the pump and slid into the passenger seat.

“You’ve got blood on your face,” she said.

Scott used the sleeve of the jacket to wipe his face clean. “Drive.”

Emily started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

“Which way?” she asked.

“South.”

Scott settled back in the passenger seat as the Chrysler continued through the small town of Cooper. The adrenaline high from the murder was crashing and being replaced by fatigue. He needed sleep, but he had to be awake and aware. He reached into the pocket of the overalls and pulled out the bills taken in the robbery. Seventy-two dollars.

They left the outskirts of Cooper and headed back south on the black top. Another long moment of silence passed between them. Scott stared out the front windshield and turned his thoughts to what he needed to do next to make good his escape. He was going to have to steal another car. This old Chrysler stuck out like a big boat on the road. He was surprised the piece of junk didn’t break down at any moment. What to do with Emily? Screw her and then kill her, he answered. He couldn’t leave her behind to tell the cops about his plans.

“We got to get off the main roads. Turn on the first country road and keep driving south.”

A half mile later, Emily turned onto a country road. The popping sound of dirt and pebbles kicked up by the tires rattled underneath the Chrysler. Scott looked back through the dust cloud being left behind. No other car had followed them onto the road. He breathed easier.

“Back at the station, why didn’t you run?” He glanced at Emily. She continued looking straight ahead at the road.

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not? You had the keys and could’ve just driven off and left me.”

“I’m here for your salvation.”

“Lady, I just killed a man for seventy-two dollars and a full tank of gas. Do you think I give a shit about salvation?”

 “You must repent your sins.”

“Fuck that.”

“Mr. Green worked at that station almost his entire life. He continued providing full service to his customers and greeted each with a warm welcome when no other station in the county would. Even his age and arthritis did not stop him. He was a good man and you killed him in cold blood.”

“Life sucks and then you die.” Scott was getting tired of this bitch. She was quickly outliving her usefulness to his escape. The only reason he kept her alive was for sex sometime in the near future.

The car’s suspension jumped from a rut in the road. Something heavy in the trunk bounced and thumped.

“Slow it down. We don’t want to end up in a ditch,” Scott said.

Emily eased back on the accelerator. “You must repent your sins.”

“I told you I didn’t want to hear anymore of your stupid preaching, bitch.”

She slid the frayed Bible across the seat toward him. “Read Romans 6:23. The wages of sin is …”

“Stop the car!”

Emily put on the brakes and the big Chrysler slid to a stop on the road. Scott snatched the keys from the ignition.

“Get out!”

“Why?”

“I warned you if you didn’t shut up I was going to put you in the trunk.”

“No.”

Scott climbed out of the passenger side and crossed to the driver door. He swung it open and grabbed Emily by the hair and pulled her out. He dumped her into the dirt of the road. Her hair had come undone from the tight bun and hung down in her face. She gawked up at him through her round glasses.

“I’m trying to save your soul. I offer salvation and to be your Witness before …”

“Get up!” He kicked her in the side and pulled out the shank from his pocket. “Get up or I will cut you right here.”

She stood and dusted off her paisley dress. “You must repent. To refuse is to suffer the wages of your sin.”

He grabbed her hard by the elbow and dragged her toward the trunk. She didn’t put up a struggle.

“You know why I haven’t killed you yet,” he said putting the key in the trunk lock. “I plan on getting a piece of your righteous ass later. Right now, you get to ride in the trunk. Maybe a few miles locked in there will teach you to keep your mouth shut.”

“Repenting your sins is the only way to know eternal life.”

“The only thing you’re going to get to know is the inside of a car trunk.” He turned the key and trunk popped open.

The stench of fresh blood filled the air. Scott looked down in shock. The trunk was filled with the hacked to death bodies of others. At first glance, he thought there were two or three dead men and women stuffed into the confines. Their bloody body parts were intertwined in the small space.

“What the fuck?” Scott stepped back in surprise.

Emily reached into the trunk and snatched up a one-handed hatchet. “They didn’t repent either,” she said.

Too surprised to react, Scott watched in horror as Emily swung down the hatchet and lopped off his arm at the wrist. The hand holding the shank dropped to the dirt of the road. Blood sprayed from his stump as he staggered back

“Sinner!” She screamed. A cold lifeless glint shone in her eyes as she swung the axe again.  This one caught him in the chest and split open ribs like they were balsa wood. Scott fell to ground looking up in terror as Emily moved in on him with the hand axe and swung again and again. “Sinner! Sinner! Sinner!”

*          *          *          *

Emily studied her handiwork. Scott Warren’s body lay butchered in the dirt of the country road. His dead eyes stared up at her with a look of total shock as she wiped the blood off her glasses and pulled back her hair once more. Picking up his body parts, she put each one carefully in the trunk with the other non-repentant sinners. She was running out of room and there were so many more sinners left in the world.

“The wages of sin is death,” she said closing down the trunk lid.

Once more behind the wheel of the Chrysler, she started the engine and turned on the gospel radio. As she pulled out onto the country road, another special news bulletin came over the station.

“This is a special alert from the WKJS newsroom. Law Enforcement officials in a tri-county area are on a manhunt for an escapee who is armed and extremely dangerous. The person is described as being a female with brown hair and round glasses. She usually wears her hair tied up in a bun and was last seen wearing a long dress. She escaped from the mental institution at FortSawyer and goes by the name of Emily. She may be driving an old Chrysler. If you have any information please contact the local law enforcement. Do not approach her for she is extremely disturbed and dangerous. Repeat. Do not approach her. Contact your local law enforcement immediately if you have any information.”