‘Cardinal Points'

Prologue

No different from yesterday, the predawn street in front of the Drake Hotel is quiet, the no vacancy sign the solitary light source illuminating the cracked sidewalk framing the building. Tucked neatly between shuttered storefronts, a dimly lit stairwell leads up to double doors and the hotel's second-floor lobby. 
Shortly before five a.m., a well-dressed man walked from the hotel, with him was a young woman. Out on the sidewalk, they went their separate ways without speaking. The woman's disheveled appearance left no doubt she had dressed in a hurry, not realizing she'd pulled her short skirt on backward. 
The four-inch heels she wore made traversing the cracked surface beneath her feet a challenge. Before she moved into the darkness, the woman stopped long enough to shove a wad of cash deep into the large tote bag slung over her shoulder. 
Note to self — the Drake is not the kind of hotel you take the wife and kids for a long weekend!
Up in room 306, another business transaction was coming to a successful conclusion, denoted by a series of grunts signaling the John's satisfaction with his illicit early morning encounter. Taking his time, the fatigued man slowly dismounted the slight woman he paid a scant thirty dollars for the short-time. 
"Nice!" he said with a toothless grin. 
The tart, a Capp Street regular and mere teenager by the looks of her, hesitantly reached for the man’s deflated penis and pulled a soiled condom from it with a snap. With her free hand, she took the towel from the nightstand behind her and tossed it over the man's privates. 
"Use that to clean your sad little pecker. My work here is done," she said holding the spent condom carefully in two fingers at arms length. 
She left the man lying alone in bed, walked naked into the bathroom and tossed the rubber in a small trashcan. House rules strictly prohibit the disposal of used condoms by flushing.
Next, she opened the faucet and held a 'clean' washcloth beneath the lukewarm water. With it, she gave herself a 'whores' bath, paying particular attention to the primary revenue center between her skinny pale thighs. Five more minutes would pass before the pair vacated the room, leaving the bed in disarray and the bathroom in need of cleaning. 
A while later, the building's janitor came along and went about the task of tidying up the room. He first straightened the bed without changing the sheets. In the bathroom, he wiped out the sink with the same washcloth the teenage hooker used to bathe herself. Finally, he emptied the bathroom trash into the plastic bag hanging from his cleaning cart. 
When he was satisfied with the rooms appearance, he switched off the lights and stepped into the hallway, locking the door behind him. In the elderly man's estimation, the room was ready for the next paying customer and their date. He would repeat the cleaning process in each room as patrons came and went throughout the night.
Before clocking out, he would drop the bag of room trash in the refuse chute at the end of the hall. The chute empties into a dumpster located behind the hotel. 
Unknown to the Janitor, a shadowy figure waited patiently in the darkness beside the dumpster for the early morning deposit. Within seconds of the bag landing on the trash heap, the figure snatched it up and lumbered away, clutching it tightly in both arms. No one would notice the bag was gone.
Laying briefly beneath the bag of room trash, was an ordinary black trash bag that found its way into the dumpster during the night. It too went unnoticed, just another bag on a pile of many. This bag though was uniquely different from all the others. It was filled with the dismembered remains of stray cats, six in all.
 Mental health professionals categorize the mutilation of defenseless animals as acting out, a 'mania without delirium' closely associated with a deeply rooted obsessive compulsive disorder. In plain English, the person responsible for the sadistic act of violence is one sick fuck!

No comments:

Post a Comment