"Don't worry, I'm sure what photo shoots you had were done fantastically, and you'll succeed wherever else you go, even if you end up having to say 'you want fries with that?'" Jessica laughed a little at the comment, and Mike could tell it alleviated the sadness inside of her. That was one of his abilities; alleviate someone's pain, take away their suffering, send them to a much happier place. Mike checked his watch; twenty minutes before he would be safely back home and put this entire ordeal behind him.
Mike stopped behind the folding table set up under a small canopy. Pots, pans, a propane stove, and dry goods were littered on the table, covering nearly every square inch. The mess these people made; couldn't be harder to find the lighter fluid. Mike's head snapped to his right as the man slowly walked back to the tent. He wrestled with the zipper for a moment before finally going back in. Mike moved into action.
Carefully, he rummaged through the cooking table, searching for the lighter fluid, or something liquid and flammable. After a minute of picking through the pile of kitchenware, he let a profanity out under his breath and looked around the campsite for a new course of action.
Peering through the darkness, he scoured the campsite, not finding anything he liked. Mike looked under table he was originally searching, praying for a flammable liquid. Suddenly, a glint of metal caught his eye; it was the rounded metal of the propane tank fueling the stove above. Quickly Mike sprung into action, not wanting to delay the horrendous plan.
Mike deftly unscrewed the hose leading from the filled propane tank to the heating elements. Carefully, Mike cradled the tank over to the tent, making sure no sound was heard by the sleeping couple inside. Slowly, he laid the vessel down and spun open the handle. The gas came out of the hose, creating a high-pitched sound, like the air escaping a pinhole in a balloon. Only this balloon was deadly.
Knowing that the couple would wake when the sulfuric smell became too powerful to ignore, Mike opened the valve as wide as possible, and stuck the hose in a small opening along the zipper line. Peeping through the mesh window of the tent, the air began to haze over as the thick gas permeated the air.
Mike's hands shook in excitement as he reached into his pocket and removed the book of matches he had been saving. Quietly, he unzipped the tent and lit a match well away from the leaking propane. Replacing the lit match in the book, he watched as the rest caught fire, popping as a small pockets of gas reached the flames. He stood there for a moment, a wild smile reaching across his face like a wide river, before slowly stepping backwards.
Mike's eyes never left the tent as he slowly moved backwards. And that strange grin never left his face either. He moved just far enough to be missed by the now ballooning flames that reaching out to touch the evil that lived inside of Michael.
Mike did not move the entire time the walls of the tent shot their flames into the night sky, obscuring even the brightest stars with their intense red fire and choking black smoke. He stood in the clearing, watching the tent shake and rattle, hoping that it was his trapped victims who squirmed and writhed like worms after a storm, and not the wind that was causing the movement.
"They didn't know what hit them" Mike said in a monotone voice. Mike opened his eyes and looked around; he was in the Camry, covered in luggage. Jessica, looking back at Mike through the mirror, stared at him in astonishment, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide open.
Her shock was evident in her voice as she stuttered out "You....you're the...the..."
"Yes, I'm the man they call the 'Campsite Cooker'," Mike said darkly, slowly reaching down to his sweatshirt pocket, "I'm the one setting fire to everyone around here. That's why I was out tonight; I was lighting people on fire." Mike had moved into a more frank tone, calmly telling Jessica how everything happened.
"But, but Mike! You almost always had a smile on your face in high school. You were always laughing and joking with your friends. What happened?" Jessica was bewildered now, not focusing on the road and her speed so much as on Mike, who's fingers were now curled around the handle of a sharp blade that was ready to do it's job.
"What happened? What the fuck happened? Where the fuck were you fifteen minutes ago when I spilled my fuck life out to you!?" Mike's calm tone gave way the emotions he had been storing for years; all the hate, the anger, the pain, the suffering, the sadness, the rage, all were vomited out.
"I'm tired of looking through the eyes of a fucking liar! That kid in high school, the one you knew who smiled when he was punched, laughed along with the jokes about him, made up a funny excuse when he went home with a black eye, that wasn't me. This is me. This man who lets others know how much pain they caused him. What I've been doing is my retribution, my revenge, my payback. Steve had his time, now,... now the time is mine!" Mike slowly became crazed during his rant, losing track of everything but his emotions and words. Unwittingly, Jessica had sped up to a swift 95 miles per hour, creating a dark green and brown blur outside of the windows.
Jessica, in awe of her current situation, mindlessly said "Mike, you need help. Let's just go back to Woodville, we can go to the police, te-" Mike sharply cut her off with a "Fuck that!", and with one fluid motion, flipped the blade out and held it against Jess's neck. A droplet of blood was let out. It slowly made it's way down to Jessica's neckline, disappearing in the fabric, leaving it's indelible mark on her.
Frightened by this sudden show of violence, Jessica stepped on the gas pedal even harder. The speedometer raced up to 120 miles per hour and left the needle quivering. Jessica was breathing heavily, her entire body shaking as Mike leaned over the seat, his face right next to Jessica's ear.
Jessica finally was able to calm herself down enough to speak. "A-Alright, M-M-Mike. Ju-Just tell me what you want me to do." Jessica's eyes never left the road as it sped beneath the couple.
"Just keep on driving. Just keep on driving." Mike said, a glint of evil in his eyes. Mike looked over to Jessica, a hungry smile on his face, and a sly look in his eyes. Jessica's eyes darted to Mike, then back to the road a few times before Mike said "You know, you're pretty when you're scared."
Jessica began to gag, her body convulsing. She tried to keep her head up and her eyes open, but it was impossible. She looked down slightly and felt the knife dig a little deeper into her throat.
"Hey hey hey! Stop that, or I'll fucking cut your throat open and make you stop!"
Jessica gagged one more time, but that's all that was needed. As her eyes closed for .742 seconds, the car had moved 138.165 feet. 153.871 feet ahead was a slight right curve because of a 32.52 foot cliff that it road along. The wooden guard rail protecting the motorists was 23.8 years old, and this particular section had termite damage. By the time Jessica had opened her eyes, it was too late to even react to what was in front of her, let alone try to avoid it.
Jessica let out a high pitch yelp and Mike called out "Oh shit!" as the car shattered the wood and went nose first over the edge. Mike dropped his knife from the impact, and gravity forced Jessica to relinquish the steering wheel. Fate was in control of their voyage now.
Everything was now in slow motion. Jessica's eyes were shut tight as her arms moved back, creating the score hand motion used in football. Luggage, bags, and random personal items became suspended in mid-air, some even spilling their contents. The clock blared "3:19 A.M.". And Mike knew he was going to die.