The man carried the large bundle over one shoulder as he padded quickly down the stairs. Light from the street filtered through the sheer curtains but otherwise the darkness was complete. He almost tripped over the small dog gasping for air at the foot of the stairs, poison-filled froth dribbled from its small mouth. Poor pup, needed to be done though, he thought.
The man, dressed to match the darkness, slipped quietly through the dining room then the kitchen and into the utility room. He glanced at a plastic cat clock hanging on the wall, its black tail swinging back and forth once a second. The clock read one-o-five. His schedule flashed through his head and he smiled. Right on time.
The back door shut with a latching noise louder than he liked but he held the screen door until it met the jam. His large Oldsmobile purred from the alley where he left it, and the huge unlatched trunk lid made the transfer of the canvas wrapped bundle effortless. The bundle hit the bottom of the trunk hard and a muffled whimper came from it.
“Shush, that didn’t hurt much,” whispered the man through his black balaclava.
He closed the trunk lid fast then slowed as it connected, then pressed down firmly until he heard the latch click. Sliding up the side of the car, he opened the door. The interior lights did not come on since he removed all of the light bulbs. He stood briefly, looked around and listened- silence. He smiled and got in to the driver’s seat.
“Very efficient,” he said to the man in the rear view mirror.
He pulled out of the alley in East Peoria, Illinois. A feeling of satisfaction overwhelmed him. The creature will be happy with me. And, if by what I do, I save a child from years of needless pain, could I not be called a saint, or a savior? A soft smile spread across his face.
The man left Peoria proper and drove west for thirty-five minutes. Relief came over him when his headlights reflected off of a sign, ‘The City of Maplewood Welcomes You.’ The digital sign on the First Home Bank read, ‘JUL 25 2003, 2:05.’ It flashed and read 73 degrees as he drove by.
“Home,” he said aloud.