Chase: Roman

moving out of the arc of the weapon, simultaneously drawing his arm more tightly across the other's windpipe.
        Around them, cars were starting up. Trouble in lovers’ lane brought guilt aflowering in every teenage mind nearby. No one wanted to stay to see what the problem was.
        ‘Drop it,’ Chase said.
        The stranger, though he must have been desperate for breath, stabbed backward and missed again.
        Chase, suddenly furious, jerked the man onto his toes and applied the last bit of effort necessary to choke him unconscious. In the same instant, the wet grass betrayed him. His feet slithered, twisted, and he went down with the stranger on top. This time the knife took Chase in the meaty part of his thigh, just below the hip, and it was torn from the other man's hand as Chase bucked up, tossing him aside.
        The man rolled and got to his feet. He took a few steps toward Chase, looking for the knife, seemed suddenly to realize the formidable nature of his opponent, turned and ran.
        ‘Stop him!’ Chase shouted.
        But most of the cars had gone. Those still parked along the cliffside reacted to this last uproar just as their more timid comrades had acted to the first cries: lights flicked on, engines started, tyres squealed as they reached the pavement. In a moment the only cars in lovers’ lane were the Chevrolet and Chase's Mustang.
        The pain in his leg was bad, though not any worse than a hundred others he had endured. In the light from the Chevrolet, he could see that the bleeding was slow, not ugly and rhythmic like the spurt from a torn artery. When he tried, he could stand and walk with little trouble.
        He went to the car and looked in, then wished he had not. The body of a young man, perhaps nineteen or twenty, was sprawled half on the seat and half on the floor. In the generous splashes of blood that covered him, streaming from what looked like two dozen knife wounds, there was proof that he could not be alive. Beyond him, curled in the corner by the far door, a petite brunette, a year or two younger than her lover, was moaning softly, her hands gripped so tightly on her knees that they looked more like claws latched about a piece of game. She was wearing a pink miniskirt but no blouse or bra. Her small breasts were spotted with blood, and the nipples were erect.
        Chase wondered why he noticed this last detail more plainly than anything else about the grisly scene.
        ‘Stay there,’ Chase said. ‘I'll come around for you.’
        She did not respond, though she continued to moan.
        Chase almost closed the door on the driver's side, then realized that he would thereby shut off the light and let the brunette alone in the car with the corpse. He walked around the car, leaning on it so that he could favour his right leg, and opened her door. Apparently these kids had not believed in locks. That was, he supposed, part of their generation's optimism, part and parcel with their theories on free love, mutual trust and brotherhood. It was the same generation that was supposed to live life so fully that they all but denied the existence of death. The expression on the brunette's face, however, indicated that she was no longer trying to deny anything.
        ‘Where's your blouse?’ Chase asked.
        She was no longer looking at the corpse, but she was not looking at him either. She stared at her knees, at her whitened knuckles, and she mumbled.
        Chase groped around on the floor under her legs and found the balled-up garment. ‘You better put this on,’ he said.
        She would not take it from him. She continued to mumble.
        ‘Come on, now,’ he said as gently as he could. He was perfectly aware that the killer might not have gone very far.
        She seemed to be saying something, though her voice was lower than before. When he bent closer to listen, he discovered that she was saying, ‘Please don't hurt me. Please don't.’
        ‘I'm not going to hurt you,’ Chase said, straightening up. ‘I didn't do that to your boyfriend. But the man who did might still be hanging around. My car's up along the road. Will you please come with me?’
        She looked up at him then, blinked, shook her head and got out of the car. He handed her the blouse, which she unrolled and shook out but could not seem to get on. She was still in a state of shock
        ‘You can put it on in my car,’ Chase said. ‘It's safer