Lamar P. Squatlow was different now, to those who knew him, he was no longer the scared little mouse who sat back and let people walk all over him; he was strong, and he wanted revenge, he wanted retribution and knew just how to get it.
Lamar made his way to his vehicle; absently, shoving the phone deep into his jean’s pocket as his walked. As Lamar headed around the hood of the truck, the hunger forgotten for a moment, when his eyes slid to a glimmer of steel lying in the weeds, the shine, reflecting from the night lights. Lamar felt a pull, like a string, attached to his chest, with an unseen force at the other end, dragging him along as if he were a puppet. Lamar let the force pull him, the buzzing energy growing stronger with each step; Lamar felt warmth pulsing through his body, the feeling almost orgasmic, as he gave in to the sensations in his body. Flashes of people he knew flickered in his head, the pumper, and members of the roustabout team, as he looked down at the shiny black steel lying in the dark mangled dandelion stems, the yellow flowers poking up around the head of a large 2 1/2 foot wrench. The wrench was large enough to fit around the hydraulic pump; the tool was used to change out the washers when they wore out, Lamar hated that wrench, he had a rough time using it, due to the weight of the damn thing. He bent down to pick it up, surprised, when he bounced back up from his bent position with the thick steel in tow. The wrench felt light as he swung it around, turning in circles and jabbing the air. Amazing, he thought, I could barely heft this bugger and attach it to the hydraulic pump this afternoon. The cell phone rang again and Lamar ignored it, continuing to spar with his invisible enemies, they were not invisible to him, though, he saw every face and knew what he needed to do, and he had the perfect weapon to achieve his goals; but right now he needed a hamburger!
Lamar hopped into the truck, tossing the wrench to the passenger side of the vehicle, chuckling at the ease of it all. “Damn, it’s like I’m twenty years old again.” Lamar sat back and tilted the rear view mirror as he settled into the driver’s seat. W. C. Fields didn’t look back at him this time; Lamar looked at his reflection in shock, he had definition back in his face, his jawline chiseled, the veins on his nose, always a reminder that he was a drunk, were no longer visible. Lamar’s gaze flickered to his eyes; they were no longer the washed out green that he was born with; his eyes glowed with a vibrant amber, that pulsed with each heartbeat.
The lights from his favorite burger joint beaconed, funny, he thought, I can usually taste that burger fore I even order it. His mouth watered at the thought of food, but he wasn’t sure what he was hungry for; as he pulled the truck into the restaurant’s parking lot, his phone started to ring for the third time. Lamar pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked at the display; it was the pumper again, “Jackass!” Lamar spat out punching ignore on the phone’s glass surface; he tossed the phone into the passenger floorboard of the truck. The restaurant felt deserted, “Shit, they’re closed, and I’m starvin’.” He muttered to himself as the outside lights went out, leaving him sitting alone in the dark lot.
His gaze was drawn to the rear door of the restaurant as it opened, depositing a slim pretty blonde onto the broken asphalt beside the dumpster. The girl’s head was bent, and she was deep in focus, digging fiercely for her keys, as she hurried to her car. Lamar forgot all about the hamburger, realizing, as he watched her, that the hunger devouring his body was for blood, human blood.
Lamar quietly exited the truck, gently closing the door, and stealthily made his way across the cracked gravel toward the blonde; just as she extended her key to the lock, Lamar bit down on the back of her neck. The girl saw his reflection in the car window’s glass, just before she lost consciousness. Lamar ate and drank every ounce of her, then sitting back on his haunches, looked and the girl’s destroyed back. “Shame, she was a pretty lil thing.” He muttered, noticing that the hunger that had accompanied him upon waking beside the rig was finally gone. “I think she served me my last burger.” He chuckled to himself.
Lamar stood at the curb, drenched in the waitresses blood, looking up at the big structure; the pumper’s house loomed in front of him. “How is he able to afford a house that big?” Lamar asked himself, thinking about his little single-wide trailer house, sitting in the shittiest trailer park in town, the thought fanning the flames of hate until they erupted into an inferno. Lamar’s eyes glowed with the bright golden amber as if lit from inside, his entire being filled with a single focus. The front door swung open as Lamar started toward the house; his supervisor’s face peeked out from the open crack of the door. “Lamar?” He yelled out, “I’ve been trying to call you, you were supposed to call me as soon as you saw what the problem was!” The pumper stepped out on the porch, letting the door close behind him; he noticed the difference in Lamar immediately and moved closer to the edge of the porch to get a better look at him. “Lamar? What happen –” Cutting off his words, Lamar leaped onto the porch, sinking his teeth into his supervisor’s throat.
Feeling powerful, for the first time in his life, Lamar left the pumper’s devoured body lying on the porch and slowly walked back to his truck, he had work to do.