One

His breathing was irregular and sweat beads formed on his forehead. Could this actually be the moment? There was a tremble that he noticed in his fingers. He needed to calm himself. He watched as the man walked closer toward where he had hidden himself.

He had chosen this spot after hours of meticulous planning. He knew the street. Every dip and every pothole. He knew the store owners' and employees' patterns. The shoe store closed at nine, but on Mondays the owner let everyone off early to watch the game. The cheap art store closed at eight-thirty on the same day, so the lady who ran it could get to the bar early. Everything was going like clockwork.

The man walked this way every Monday to collect mail from the post office. It closed at ten. The man was there by nine every Monday. There was no deviation. The envelope was too important. The money it held was too important. Tom was his name. Tom made sure to let the man know what would happen if the envelope was not at the box on time by nine on this day.

Tom was quickly approaching the spot. The spot that the man daydreamed about. The spot that was on the man's mind for months. Tom was bleeding him dry. This was motivation enough, but what Tom hadn't planned on was the craving.

The craving started a few months before Tom started his blackmailing scheme. He had been witness to a gruesome crime where a woman was stabbed to death by her jealous lover. Little did the jealous man know he stirred something in the man's soul that evening.

The man remembered the crimson liquid flowing like little streams on the sidewalk. The sight would have disgusted most people, but that day the man realized he was not like most people.

The steps grew closer; he could hear Tom's breathing. He was a loud breather. He wasn't fat and he wasn't old. The man thought it strange for the first time after all the times he crouched here watching Tom, he noticed this. He counted it as the heightened senses from the thrill of the hunt.

He reached for the blade he had hidden on his left ankle. He learned that if he used a simple leather strap it was more comfortable. It was also easier to pull the blade when needed. He knew he would need it tonight. He pulled it and steadied himself. He took several deep breaths. Holding the breath four seconds on inhale, and after blowing the air out, he waited four seconds to inhale the next breath.

Tom was almost within striking distance. This was it if there was ever a time. He gripped the handle of the blade tightly. He felt the grooves on the handle used to help grip it better. The breathing he heard from Tom almost hurt his ears. He also noticed his pulse growing stronger with the plunging sensation on his eardrums. Now is the moment.

He leapt from his crouch and thrust the blade hard into the man's stomach. Tom didn't have time to react. He was stunned. His eyes grew wide as he realized what was happening. The man withdrew the blade quickly and with another forceful blow plunged it in Tom's liver for the second and the decisive blow. It was over.

The man turned and ran in the direction he had planned for his escape route--the dark and narrow alley. He came to the fence that separated the alley and he jumped up and grasped the top and pulled himself over. He was full of adrenaline. His senses keen and his strength surprising.

He ran for what seemed like an hour but in reality it was only five or six minutes. Then he saw his car. He stopped and looked around. Nothing. Nothing but a sleepy street. He walked to the car, opened the door and flopped into his seat. The adrenaline rush was over. He was exhausted.

There was only one thought after the first kill. Now is the time for two.