The Stalker (standard:drama, 2959 words)
Author: Walt	Added: Aug 27 2006	Views/Reads: 3651/2320	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A story of how suspicion and jealousy can turn love into hate.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

her without her ever seeing him. He would be part of the crowd. He 
would take a rag from the trunk and pretend to be wiping furniture, 
just another one of the casually dressed part-time cleaning staff that 
worked at the small airport. He would wear his Walkman headphones so no 
one would talk to him. Linda would never notice him. But he would see 
her. And her old boyfriend. 

He watched Linda as she stood by the arrivals area. He could tell she
was excited by the way she was pacing, looking anxiously through the 
glass for her friend. He was a good-looking man, about Howie's own age, 
but much taller and heavier than Howie. He and Linda saw each other at 
the same time and rushed to each other. He picked her up and swung her 
around, hugging her and laughing. At least they did not kiss, Howie 
told himself. He followed them outside to the parking lot, wanting to 
run to Linda and get her away from this stranger, but he could not. He 
was torn by his emotions, feeling a great desire for Linda and then a 
brooding resentment against this fellow. He put his car into gear and 
followed them, feeling anger replacing resentment, hate replacing the 
love he once shared with this woman. How could she be with this other 
man after telling Howie that she loved only him? 

He followed them to her apartment. Howie parked his old blue car across
the street, just close enough to see the lights come on in her living 
room. What were they doing up there? Were they kissing now? Would they 
go into the bedroom? He wanted to burst in on them, but he was frozen 
in his seat by indecision. If the lights went out, he would go up there 
and bang on the door, that is what he would do! He did not care if that 
guy was bigger. He would punch him out. And then throw him out of the 
apartment. Linda did not really love this guy - she loved him - Howie 
Parker.  But what if the big brute punched his lights out. What would 
Linda think of him then? He needed an equalizer. 

His powerful compound bow was in the trunk of the car. He only had the
practise arrows, not the hunting shafts, but at thirty yards, even a 
practise arrow could kill someone. No, he did not want to kill anyone. 
Maybe scare them though. The lights went off in the apartment. Howie 
had to do something. He had to know what Linda was doing. He had to see 
her. He got out of the car, quickly closing the door so the courtesy 
light would not give him away. Moving towards the apartment, keeping a 
large old maple tree between him and the building, he crossed the 
street. He ducked down behind a hedge and moved along it, watching for 
other people or passing cars. It was late dusk and no one was in sight. 
He was just about to make a leap to the fire escape ladder when the 
front door opened and Linda and her boyfriend came out of the building. 


"There's a good restaurant about five blocks down this way," Linda said,
pointing south on Maryville Road. "Do you want to walk?" 

"Sure. I could use a good stretch after sitting in air planes and
airports all day." 

Howie knew they were headed for Spino's. He and Linda often went there
for a meal. They had their own favourite booth, right by the window. 
How could she take him to their place? She knew that place meant 
something special to him, now she was spoiling it. Calculating how long 
it would take them to reach the restaurant, Howie returned to his car 
and drove to Spino's, using a parallel street. He parked in the lot 
across the street, positioning the car so he could see Linda and her 
old boyfriend as they approached and entered the building. 

The couple walked along the street, holding hands and chatting as if
they were lovers. Howie thought for a moment about getting out of the 
car and going to the restaurant, pretending it was coincidence but 
somehow he was more fascinated by just watching them. He was afraid 
that if he confronted Linda she would raise a ruckus about him 
following her. Of course, she did not know that he was following her, 
but she would say that. Maybe he should confront them, scare the guy 
away. Threaten him, some way. Not by his size because the stranger was 
bigger than Howie. He needed something. A gun. His paintball gun was in 
the trunk. He could use that. In the failing light of the evening, the 
pellet gun might look real enough to scare the guy. But he might also 
scare Linda. There was nothing to gain by getting her angry with him. 
He did not know what to do so he sat there, slouched down behind the 
steering wheel and watched. 

The couple went inside and in a moment they were sitting at his table.
Their special table. Howie dammed himself for not acting sooner. He 
could have gone inside and waited for them. He could have sat at that 
table himself, forcing Linda and her boyfriend to see him. He watched 
in silence as they ordered a drink and then dinner. Howie had to do 
something. Maybe if he fired a paint ball at the window, made a big 
splotch of red on the window, that would scare them! Ruin their 
evening. But Linda would know it was he, Howie, who had fired at them. 
By the looks of the animated dinner conversation it might already be 
too late for him. He thought that he had been good company for Linda, 
but now the couple beyond the glass seemed to be having much more fun 
than he and Linda had ever had. He hated the handsome stranger. 

Howie got out of the car and opened the trunk. He took out the
paint-ball gun kit bag. Quickly, working without looking, he changed 
the CO2 cartridge. He loaded the red capsule, clicked the chamber 
closed. Holding the gun by his side, he worked his way across the 
street. It was dark now and he had no problem getting to within thirty 
feet of the door. Howie worked out his escape route, something he 
always did when making a hit. That is why he had all those trophies. 
Even if he did miss, which was very seldom, Howie never gave the 
opposition a chance to return fire. He would splat the guy as they came 
out the door. He would be gone before they could react. 

Howie found a place behind some shrubs and made himself comfortable for
the wait. It would be at least and hour before they finished their 
dinner. Linda was such a slow eater. She was always onto him about 
slowing down, chewing his food more. She liked to talk during the meal. 
Howie liked his food hot and ate quickly before the plate cooled. 
Lately he had slowed his intake, just to please Linda. Now she was 
sitting inside his favourite restaurant, at their table, dining with a 
stranger! Maybe he would hit her with a paint-ball too. 

He heard something small moving in the alley behind him. Probably a
stray cat, looking for scraps at the back of the restaurant, he 
thought. He slowly turned his head to check. Coming towards him, 
sniffing the ground as it came, was a skunk. It was going to walk right 
up to him. Howie thought about letting it pass by, but then had a 
better idea. If he could get the skunk to turn around and go back near 
the air conditioner . . . 

Howie made some grunting noises to stop the skunk. The animal looked up
from its search along the ground and spotted the grunting figure by the 
hedge. The skunk turned around, raised the tail a little, and returned 
the way it had come. Howie aimed the paintball gun at the retreating 
skunk and fired. The paint pellet hit the skunk. It squealed and then 
sprayed. But Howie was now out in the street, strolling to his car. It 
took about five minutes to empty the restaurant. Old Sam Spino was 
outside cursing the now departed skunk in Italian. Linda and the 
stranger held their noses as they laughed and ran up the street. 

Howie watched from the shadows of the maple tree as Linda and the man
walked up Maryville to her apartment block. He felt helpless, torn 
between action and inaction, love and feelings of resentment. The 
lights flicked on in her apartment. He thought of climbing the fire 
escape but there were too many other apartments with lights on that he 
would have to pass to get to her window. He returned to the car and 
watched, waiting for the neighbours' lights to go off, hoping that the 
yellow square that marked Linda's apartment would not blink out. 

One by one the other people in the apartment block turned off their
lights. What could Linda and her friend be doing? Howie's mind was 
filled with fleeting thoughts as he waited and watched. More and more 
he was blaming Linda, accusing her of doing things now with the 
stranger, sexual things that he had only fantasized. He could picture 
her smooth, soft, naked body. Then he remembered the curt way she had 
told him that she was busy all this weekend. He loved her, hated her. 
She was hurting him now and he wanted some kind of revenge. But he was 
not sure. Maybe they were just sitting there in the apartment, having a 
coffee. Maybe the stranger would leave soon. Maybe he was only a 
friend. 

Suddenly the light in the window disappeared. All was black now except
for one neighbour's window that flickered blue with TV light. Howie 
decided to climb the fire escape and listen at Linda's window. He was 
afraid of what he might hear but more afraid not to know what was 
happening in the dark room. He slipped off his shoes and on stocking 
foot, scampered across the quiet street in a good imitation of the Pink 
Panther. The fire escape gave one small squeak as his weight came to 
bear on it, but then he was moving catlike up the steel steps. He froze 
as a car passed on the street below, then moved along to Linda's 
window. He calmed his breathing and listened intently. Nothing. No 
sound came from the room. No feared squeaking of bed springs, no soft 
moans of love making. Howie listened for a good ten minutes and then 
gave up. 

Howie Parker slept poorly that night. His dreams were filled with images
of the past and wild plans for the morrow. He saw clearly the many 
times he had stalked deer, saw the compound bow bend and heard the 
thrum of the bowstring as a shaft left on its way to the target. He 
could see the horror on the stranger's face as he saw the arrow fly 
into his chest. He could see Linda being saved from the hated man, 
running to Howie in relief after the rescue. Dawn found him more tired 
than midnight and he finally fell into a deep sleep. 

He was outside changing the oil filter on his car when his mother called
to him that there was a telephone call. 

"Can you take a message, Mom? My hands are dirty," he said from under
the hood. 

"I think it's your friend Linda," his mother replied. 

Linda. Was she in trouble? Had that stranger harmed her? He'd kill the
bastard if he had laid a hand on his woman. "Okay, just a minute," 
Howie said, picking up a rag and wiping his hands as clean as he could. 


His oily hand gripped the receiver. "Hello," he said. 

"Howie, it's me. Are you doing anything this afternoon?" 

"Well, no. Nothing special." 

"Gerry wondered if you could take him paint balling." 

"Gerry?" 

"Yes, Gerry. My brother. He's here for the weekend and when I told him
about you and your paint-balling, he wanted to meet you." 

"You mean he's your brother? Uh, I mean, that's the reason you said you
were tied up all weekend?" 

"Sure. I told you about Gerry. I'm sure I mentioned that he would be in
from Stockholm this fall." 

Howie did remember something now. Linda had said that her brother was
working somewhere in Europe. "And he wants to go paint balling with 
me?" 

"Yes. He said it sounded like fun. Actually, I think he wants to look
you over." 

"Look me over?" 

"Well, I did say we might be getting married some day and since Dad
died, Gerry feels responsible for me. You know how big brothers are!" 

He did not, but it did not matter now. "Sure. I can arrange something.
I'll bring some old clothes of mine. I'll pick him up at two o'clock. 
Is that okay?" 

"Sure Howie. And thanks," Linda said. 

"Linda," Howie said, cupping the telephone so his mother could not hear,
"I love you." 


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