The Way Out of the Dark

It was as if every single person in Las Cruces disappeared, got up and left without looking back- and for good reason. It was that time of year in the beautiful state of New Mexico where it felt like the sun was burning a hole in the back of your shirt, even when you’re in the shade. The only place where you could find relief from the August Hellfire was the fridge- or in my case, the cooler.

There was nothing worse than being stuck at work on a beautiful day, except for being stuck at work on a disgustingly hot day. Most people were at home in air-conditioned rooms- and some die hard suntanners were soaking it up poolside. Circle K wasn’t even in my top five places to be right now. I would disappear elsewhere if I could., too

Instead, I leaned against the counter, a fan oscillating in front of me, likely bought several years ago by the last cashier. I’d long given up on the thing. Any comfort it brought me was minimal. If anything it made things worse. Even when the fan shone a slight breeze, it left me otherwise with stale air, the temperature of a dog’s hot mouth as it turned squeakily on its axis. My skin felt the full weight of the dry heat and I’d abandoned the flannel shirt I wore to work, leaving only a tank top and not bothering to replace my worn name badge.

The only sound that accompanied me was the static of the radio, playing a song in Spanish, the guitar trilling with the voice as it crooned in tune. There was the quick gleam of a car rushing by the open windows and the display fridges kicked on with a hum. Other than the rogue teen trying to buy with a fake license, I didn’t expect to see anyone.

On days like this, when it was too hot to do anything, there was a lot of time left for thinking. I let my mind wander to mundane things like dinner and what I’ll do when I get home from work. Then, like a gut punch I remembered what I couldn’t come home to.

The door swung open with the chime of a brass bell, a nauseating warm breeze flowing in with the patron. She was tall and tanned with shiny legs coming out from her denim shorts. Her wavy blonde hair covered her shirt but I’d reckon it was at least a tee shirt clinging to her torso. She turned down the aisle to the coolers, likely to get a cold drink and be on her way, as I would if I could. I turned to my till and logged on, the old machine taking a minute to come awake. I heard a can clink against the counter and a high-voiced greeting came from the girl.

“How are you on this fine day?” I asked, mostly as normal, though I was torturing myself being interested in knowing if it was better or worse stuck inside here. But I felt my customer service mask slip, realizing the girl standing in front of me was Lexxi Hestor- my high school best friend.

“It’s really terrible out there,” Lexxi laughed, “You’re better off in here.” I feigned a laugh at what she said but hadn’t planned anything to say back. As I scanned her drink, I became hyper aware of everywhere I was sweating, how dirty my hair was. Lexxi looked like she just stepped off a beach, gleaming and rosy. She even smelled good, her perfume was sweet and it met my nose when she brought her bag onto the counter to get her wallet. I didn’t want to think about how I must’ve smelled.

I had just started to think that maybe Lexxi didn’t remember me, which stung only a little but was all the more grateful to be free of the embarrassment, when she tilted her head and paused with a sigh.

“You remember who I am right? Lexxi?” she asked, her voice almost pleading. My face went slack.

“Oh, that’s great,” Lexxi said in response, and took me off guard with a smile that sent me back to high school. A smile she would have never used on me, reserved only for those she was about to make miserable. Maybe it’s changed its purpose over the years, maybe I’m overthinking it.

“Have a great day,” I said, my voice not above a whisper as I handed her the drink she bought. She smiled, taking it from my hand and walked out without another word.

Even after the initial shock of Lexxi turning on me, the thing that kept me stunned was how long I had been in the same place. Eight years at the same job I’ve had since high school, married for nearly just as long to a man I don’t share a bed with anymore. The worst part of it all is after all of it, I’m still sleeping in my childhood home- on the couch, with the dog.

I tried to quiet my mind by going on my phone. There were two missed calls from Evan, both going unanswered and unreturned. I had a notification that my lunch was ready from two hours ago and a notification from a News app on my phone. Normally that too would go ignored but the words ‘New Mexico’ drew me in and had me nervous to read more. Was there another fire in the hotlands, or maybe another petty thief robbing a grocery store? Those, I reminded myself, were just distractions from what I was dreading to see, what we all knew was coming to the city.

The article went on to state that the Casino Killer, the name given as all of his victims were last seen going out gambling, was closing in on Mexico. They mused that his plan was to either go through New Mexico or back through Texas but that seemed unlikely because they were already looking for him there.

There was a blurry picture at the bottom of the article, with a warning to stay away from him, as he was dangerous. The image was a still from a security camera, his face covered by his pullover around his mouth, a cap covering his hair. The only thing that remained uncovered were his eyes, dark and piercing- like even the pigment in them was evil.

Everyone in Las Cruces had heard of what the Casino Killer was capable of. It took until a second victim, a young man’s death, for people to start noticing, and the third man in Texas brought in FBI attention. They were killed brutally and left in various places along major highways. To me, this meant two things; they were usually on the run and despite the victims seeming to be a random assortment of men, there was a reason they were killed.

The FBI suspected it was a crime of greed, highly likely as the victims were gamblers. But other than them all being men, and being between 30 and 45 years old, there was nothing linking the victims to each other.

That was what scared me the most.; random, senseless killing. Who could be next?