Ethan had no idea why he was here.
Technically, it was a waste of time – that and annoying.
The line-up at Pulp Illusions was insane; it ran right out the front doors of the store and down the street; you’d have thought they were handing out gold or something like that. No, this line-up, this insane line-up, was for Lucas Delaney.
The store was done up in all things Skullduggery. Seeing how the graphic novel had turned out to be popular – a bestseller – it appeared the publisher had decided to invest in what they called ‘point of purchase’ materials to help promote it further. This included posters, and standees, with the vilest standee being one of Lucas Delaney himself, standing proudly, with a big shit-eating grin, holding his book. From the moment Ethan saw it, he’d wanted to punch it in the face. If anyone should be returning triumphantly to Pulp Illusions, a best-selling graphic novel artist-writer, it should be him. Unfortunately, the universe didn’t always recognize true talent.
He really didn’t want to be here, and had made it clear to Trevor, when Trevor asked him if he would be attending.
“You want me to line up to meet Lucas Delaney?” he’d said, “are you nuts?”
“He asked if you’d be here,” said Trevor.
This took Ethan by surprise; he and Lucas had known one another once, and had been very competitive in their day, but that was some time ago.
“Wants to rub it in, does he,” said Ethan. “He can go fuck himself.”
“No, I don’t think it’s like that,” said Trevor. “He actually seemed interested in seeing you again; figured you were working somewhere within the industry. Wanted to get back in touch. What else are you going to be doing this coming Saturday?”
Ethan didn’t want to admit it, but he was curious.
“I’ll come, but I’m not standing in any line-up to get into the store,” said Ethan. “There is no way in hell I’m lining up to see Lucas Delaney, not like the other assholes.”
Trevor simply smiled and reassured him he’d be an honored guest. Lucas Delaney’s honored guest.
Ethan had regretted his decision to show up from the moment he arrived, saw the posters and standees, along with the table set up in the corner of the store, holding vast copies of Lucas Delaney’s graphic novel, and the place where all these idiots, who were lining up would be receiving their personal autographed copy of Skullduggery.
It had been arranged by the publisher’s public relations representative that Lucas would be brought into the store via the back alley and back door. Based on the line-up out front, they figured this would be for the best, plus Ethan figured, it also conveyed more of a star quality on Lucas, as if his fan base was so big and rabid, they had to sneak him in and out of venues. It was ridiculous, but that is the way they did it.
The sense of anticipation in Pulp Illusions was intense; some of the individuals in line, Ethan knew well, and knew that they had known Lucas well, back in the day when he was just a customer and wannabe artist. Why they would be lining up to see him, he had no idea. People were such sheep.
“Ethan,” called Trevor from the door leading to the store’s back room, “can you come in here for a second.”
As far as he knew, Lucas had arrived, and would be waiting in the back room. He’d briefly thought that he should pull out his hunting knife and gut Lucas the second he saw him – that would make for one hell of a reunion. He had thought that, but decided not to, as he wasn’t ready to end his reign of terror quite yet. To ensure he didn’t give into impulse, he had left his hunting knife at home. Better safe than sorry.
Ethan headed towards the back room. He didn’t know why Lucas was so intent on seeing him again, but had decided he’d speak his mind when he met him. He’d tell him he thought the writing and art of Skullduggery was abysmal – the work of a talentless hack. He’d tell Lucas that the only reason he had any success at all was because the world as a whole had long learnt to embrace all that was mediocre. Hell, the rise of the Internet and the Internet celebrity was proof of that mediocrity.
He entered Pulp Illusions back room with a fire in his gut and ready to raise hell – but, that all dissipated when he saw her – Lucas Delaney’s sister. It would appear his beautiful, younger sister had accompanied him to his triumphant return to his local comic book store; no doubt to witness his evolution from ordinary ‘Joe’ to artist-celebrity.
He had spent so many hours imagining what it would be like to kill her. Cheryl Delaney had died countless times in his vivid imagination – paying the price for the fact the world embraced her brother’s mediocrity. He hadn’t expected her to be there, looking so beautiful and engaging, and as such had lost his train of thought.
“Ethan, Ethan Chance, it’s so great to see you,” said Lucas, a broad smile on his face, as he approached Ethan with his hand out.
Still somewhat distracted by Cheryl, Ethan merely reached out and shook Lucas’s hand.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” said Lucas. “Hell, I didn’t even know if you were still in Lakeview. Thought you might be in New York or somewhere like that working for one of the big publishers. Your work was always so good.”
Ethan examined his face for signs of insincerity. He couldn’t find any.
“No, I’m still here,” said Ethan.
“We need to get out there, we’re all ready twenty minutes late,” said the public relations representative, interrupting their conversation.
“No problem,” said Lucas, “just give me a minute or two.”
Lucas turned his attention back to Ethan.
“I know we kind of fell out of touch, not that we were the best of friends, or even friends for that matter, but I did want to see you and tell you that I couldn’t have done this, create Skullduggery if it wasn’t for you.”
Ethan was puzzled. He and Lucas had always been quite competitive with one another; if the roles were reversed, he knew he’d be rubbing Lucas’s face in his success. He expected the same.
“You were always the more talented of the two of us,” said Lucas, “I knew that then and I know that now, but that competitiveness between us, well it spurred me on to get better. So, in a way, you’ve helped me to get where I am today.”
“I...,” started Ethan.
“Don’t say anything,” interrupted Lucas, “I know you Ethan, and unless you’ve changed, you’re going to tell me what a piece of crap my work is. I don’t mind; it’s that attitude that worked to my benefit. Are you working in the industry?”
“Not at the moment.” All of this was quite puzzling for Ethan; he had no idea how to respond. Between what Lucas was saying and the presence of Cheryl Delaney, nothing was going as he wanted it to go. He’d been blindsided and blindsided but good.
“Are you working on anything? I’d love to see it. I imagine it is only a matter of time before we’re in competition with one another again.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” said Ethan.
“Cheryl,” said Lucas.
Cheryl moved to her brother’s side.
“Ethan, this is my sister Cheryl,” said Lucas. “Cheryl, this is Ethan, an old rival. If you give Cheryl your number, she’ll give it to me and we can arrange a time to meet up in private.”
“Lucas,” said the public relations representative firmly.
Lucas looked to her and back at Ethan. “I have to get down to business now. Great seeing you again.”
With that, Lucas, Trevor, and the public relations representative made their way out the door, into the store, where there was a sudden greeting of applause by those who had been waiting for well over a couple of hours. Like a deer caught in headlights, Ethan just stood there. Had Lucas gotten the best of him, again?
As her brother made his way out into the store to fulfill his obligation to Pulp Illusions, Cheryl stayed with Ethan.
“So, can I get your phone number for my brother?” she asked.
Ethan looked at her; she had a nice smile that seemed to light up her face. She was definitely a beautiful girl, the type that always intimidated him.
“Do you travel a lot with your brother?” asked Ethan.
“We’re close, but no,” she said. “This was just close to home. I wanted to come out and see what was up. He’s had all this success, but, you know, to me he’s still just my big brother. I went to another signing, and it was strange to see all these people lining up to get him to autograph something. I always just thought he was a pain in the ass.”
“I always thought the same, myself,” said Ethan.
Cheryl laughed; it was a beautiful sight.
“You’re an artist as well?” she asked.
“I try,” he said.
“Well, I better get that number,” she said. “Lucas will be wondering where I got to.”
Ethan knew he had to take a chance; he wasn’t completely sure why, but he had to. Screwing up all the courage he could, he said, “Sure, but first you have to give me your number.”
At first, a look of surprise crossed Cheryl’s face, but it was quickly replaced with a big smile. “My number,” she said.
“Yeah, tit for tat.”
“Really?”
“Your brother might want to call me up, but I’m thinking if there’s anyone from the Delaney family I’d like to talk to or see again, it would be you.”
He had no idea where he was getting this; it was a lot smoother than he had ever been in his life – at least where women were concerned.
“Okay,” said Cheryl, “I guess you’ve got a deal.”
The day had gone insanely well. Ethan had dreaded it, but had been pleasantly surprised. Lucas’s words of praise regarding his talent, or Ethan’s inspiration for his success, were hollow words as far as Ethan was concerned. If anything, they were truly frustrating. It was as if Lucas was admitting he was an inferior talent, yet he’s the one with a successful graphic novel; he’s the one who has effectively launched his career in a field Ethan had been trying to break into for years. Lucas probably thought Ethan would be flattered, but instead it had merely pissed him off. If it hadn’t been for his receiving Cheryl Delaney’s phone number – finally not being rejected – the day would have been a colossal waste.
A beautiful young woman had given him her phone number; for the first time in his life he seemed to have made a connection with a woman. He was thrilled, but he also still needed to kill. Several weeks had passed since his last kill, and he needed to do so again. The possibility of hooking up with Cheryl Delaney was no substitute for yielding the power over life and death he had recently become accustomed to. And that was why he’d hit the streets tonight.
He needed to kill.
Tonight was different, however. Tonight he wasn’t out as late as he usually was; he’d started his prowling early, while the sun was still out. He’d also forgone the wig and the fake tattoos. He still wore a hoodie and non-descript clothing, and still kept his head down, to avoid any cameras that might be around covering various city streets, but had decided it was time to change things up a little. Since he had started killing, he had expected, at any time, to be approached by the police. He knew he was being careful, especially in hiding his identity, but he wasn’t sure if that was enough. He wasn’t a police investigator; he didn’t know anyone who was, so he really didn’t know how they operated or what resources they really had at their disposal. For all he knew, even despite his best efforts, they’d be able to hunt him down, or at least close in – enough to make him uncomfortable.
But nothing.
The murder of the three young women had received lots of press coverage, and he had read with interest comments in those articles by various law enforcement officials, all of them indicating they were hot on the trail of the killer, and it was only a matter of time, but if they were, they weren’t questioning him, or anyone he knew. He realized what the police investigators were saying to the press were lies; it was too embarrassing to just tell them they had no leads and weren’t any closer to catching the ‘Lakeview Coed Killer’ than they were the day they found his first victim.
Whether it was accurate or not, Ethan felt a sense of safety; he wasn’t worried about being caught, but he also knew he couldn’t fall into the trap of believing he was invincible. He had killed in enough public places that he assumed the authorities had a rough description of the killer, and that would involve the blonde wig he had been wearing, along with the fake tattoos. If he continued to dress like that, there was always the possibility he might be spotted by some police officers during their routine patrols. Tonight, he’d kill, but he’d do so out of costume, which he assumed would be safer for him.
Tonight he would kill.
Melissa Pegg knew she was in trouble. College was not going quite as she’d hoped. It was her fault, she knew that, but despite this revelation, couldn’t get a handle on things. If she wanted to keep from being expelled for bad grades and poor attendance, she needed to knuckle down and study. She was entirely capable of doing so, she wasn’t an idiot by any means, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do so.
She considered this as she set about getting ready for another Saturday night out on the town. The story was always the same, she knew she should stay in and study, but instead of doing that, she’d make a promise to herself that she’d study all day tomorrow – tonight would be for her, and tomorrow for her academic career. Each week she convinced herself she would follow her promise, although to date, she never has.
Melissa liked attention, and that was what drove her; that was also, she knew, what would be her downfall. Maybe, she reasoned with herself, it wasn’t her fault; maybe it was a mental illness she was afflicted with, and not a matter of just poor self control.
Either way, she intended to go out tonight.
She had discovered her power in high school; she was an attractive young woman, with a nice figure she knew how to highlight with the sexy and seductive way she dressed. She liked the fact boys fell all over her, trying to get her attention – all of that had made high school quite satisfying.
In high school she had wanted to experiment sexually, but had been too afraid to do so. For one thing, she lived at home with her parents, as did most of the teenage boys who asked her out and wanted her to go all the way. She wanted to experiment sexually, and knew it wouldn’t be right or satisfying clumsily going all the way in the backseat of some guy’s car – or some guy’s parent’s car he had borrowed for the night.
She had refrained from ‘going all the way’ in high school, although in doing so, was no angel. Melissa realized early on, her power with these boys existed because of their sexual attraction to her, and based on that she could get a lot out of them, getting them to do things for her, or buy things for her, but that quickly waned when they realized she wasn’t going to put out.
Whether giving a blowjob was sexual or not, was something that was debated by many. For many of her girlfriends, true sexuality was in allowing these boys inside them; for many of them, allowing some guy to come in their mouths was generally harmless – it was a simple act that often kept them in line, and under the girl’s spell. Performing blowjobs on those boys she went out with in high school – and not all of them, mind you – was the extent of her sexual experimentation in high school.
Upon arriving at college, far away from her parent’s watchful eyes, she had to admit she went a little overboard. Her sexuality still gave her power, and she’d explored it a little more – possibly too much. She’d met a lot of ‘all-right’ guys on her nights out with the girls and had engaged in a series of one-night stands (well, some of them went on for a week, but nothing long term). The drinking and drug use had also increased. She had, as her Father would say, gone off the rails.
She knew she had to change her ways, but tonight was Saturday night, and the lure of the thrills it might offer were too hard to resist.
The bar was a popular college hangout. That meant it would be full of young college-aged men and women, all looking for a good time, and all looking for a hook-up. Ethan had gotten there early and taken a seat by one of the bar’s large glass windows, where he was nursing his beer (the place had a two drink minimum on Saturday nights). This particular perch was perfect as it allowed him a view of the city street, and the approach various potential victims would make on their way to the bar and a night of depravity.
He’d spotted her almost immediately. She had on a bright red dress, cut low to reveal ample cleavage, and high enough that it could have made a case for being classified as a min-skirt. She had long, beautiful red hair, and a figure that men would die to possess, even if just for one night. She was dressed for attention and she got it. Her two friends, with whom she was walking up the street with, paled in comparison, but would probably be able to find partners for the evening by latching on to those their very sexy friend turned away. Ethan knew it was all very pathetic.
For the first time in a long time, Ethan felt relaxed. He was hunting, and that always made him feel good.
The evening had gone as Melissa expected. She and her friends, Stacy and Kiera were having a grand old time, and, as usual, weren’t buying their own drinks. When you looked as good as they did, nights out like this were always quite cheap. Sure, the free drinks always came with an underlying agenda, but that was okay, it was merely part of the social agenda between the sexes.
She and her friends were approached again and again and again – more than enough to help stroke their egos. Being wanted always made her feel good, or at least had made her feel good. Unlike Stacy and Kiera, Melissa was going through a bit of a personal crisis; her ‘going off the rails’ was threatening her future, and it had gotten to the point she couldn’t ignore.
She had gone out tonight out of habit, and because she wanted to, but now that she was here, doing the usual dance with horny college boys, she wasn’t as happy as she used to be.
She wasn’t stupid, at least not academically, although her current grades wouldn’t support that fact; she had been stupid socially – away from home for the first time and going more than a little crazy. She had explored her sexuality, and convinced herself that she was fine with that; these quick hook-ups were for her benefit, as much as those she hooked up with – at least that was what she initially believed. Despite all the power she believed she possessed over the opposite sex, at one point it dawned on her she was simply being used. The power she possessed only existed as long as the guy pursuing her was attempting to get her in bed. Many times, their attitude changed the second they were done with her for the evening. Unless they were planning to get laid again, she went from being treated like a princess to a leper.
Tonight, more than one guy wanted to treat her like a princess, but tonight, for some reason, maybe because of her worries, she wasn’t buying it, and didn’t want to participate. But for Stacy and Kiera’s sake, she played the game, and let the boys flirt with them. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but at some point in the evening, she had decided it was time to change her ways.
Ethan loathed scenes like those in the bar. The few times he had gone to a bar in the past, he had been unable to work up the nerve to approach any women; part of this was the fact they seemed to travel in packs; to approach one and be rejected, was to do it in front of all of them – the ultimate rejection.
The bar was packed, probably over capacity, so it was easy for him to just have a few drinks and observe. He wasn’t going to stand out to anyone.
He watched as guy after guy attempted to score with the beautiful girl in the bright red dress. That would be the only fault to his plan – his desire to make her his next victim. If she picked up a guy and went home with him, his job would be made that much harder. He’d have to follow them, not be seen, and then wait until their sexual actives came to an end, and, hopefully, she was sent packing on her own – much like his first victim. It was a beautiful and reliable scenario.
At several times during the evening, he passed by their table; on one instance a broad smile crossed his face. He had caught them talking about the ‘Lakeview Coed Killer.’
Melissa was finally bored – the first time she found herself bored in just such a setting. She found those moments where the boys were merely watching, doing their best to screw up their courage to approach their table, the most fun. It was then she could talk to her friends and forget the whole repetitive sexual dance of the Saturday night.
“I mean, what are the chances,” Kiera said.
“I’m sure that’s what his other victims thought,” said Stacy.
“Maybe the killer is a woman,” offered Melissa. In all fairness to the equal rights movement, and all that women before her had fought to achieve, it would seem sexist to simply assume the ‘Lakeview Coed Killer’ had to be a man.
“You think a woman is killing these girls?” asked Stacy. “That’s ridiculous. It has to be some pervert.”
“According to the papers, rape wasn’t involved,” offered Melissa. “The use of the knife to stab them, to penetrate them, could be a substitute phallic symbol to rape these girls, seeing how she doesn’t have a penis to do so.”
“You’re nuts,” said Stacy.
“But I don’t have nuts,” said Melissa with a smile, “So I’d need a knife.”
“No matter what,” said Kiera, “what are the chances he’s here tonight, or near here tonight? I’d say the odds are in our favor.”
The warnings had been all over campus for young women to be careful; not to go out alone at night; to be extra vigilante regarding their surroundings and who was lurking within those surroundings. A lot of her fellow female college students were frightened, but somehow, when Thursday, Friday and Saturday night came along, and the parties for the week started, that fear was replaced by the desire to party. Melissa understood this; a serial killer was running loose in the city, and three women had been brutally murdered, but what were the chances that any one of them would run up against him? It was probably similar to playing the lottery. She knew she wasn’t destined to fall victim to a killer, so why live in complete fear. For the most part she was cautious, on those few occasions when she wasn’t, what were the chances the serial killer would be near?
Melissa enjoyed those moments when she, Stacy and Kiera could gossip and joke together, but they never lasted long. Inevitably, young, hopefully, horny college boys would approach.
Ethan was very observant. The enthusiasm the beautiful girl in the bright red dress had when she’d first entered the bar seemed to have waned. As he watched her, and as the night progressed, she seemed not to be enjoying herself to the same degree. She put on an act, smiling and engaging in conversation with the various men who approached her and her friends, but he could see that underneath it all, something wasn’t right. This boded well for him. For whatever reason, she didn’t seem to be up for the usual dance that defined the night, which would mean she probably wouldn’t be leaving the bar with some guy – possibly with her two friends, but with what he could see, they were having a good time, and looked like they wanted to hook up for the night.
With this in mind, Ethan left the bar. He had watched the beautiful girl in the bright red dress approach the bar, and knew in which direction she would probably be walking when she left the bar. The way he figured it, it was better for him to be laying in wait, than to follow her out and start following her up the street. If he did it his way, the element of surprise would be far better.
So, he had left the bar and set up shop far enough away from it so as not to be noticed; he had also situated himself near an alleyway, which would be the perfect place to make his kill.
His day had been going insanely well.
“What the fuck you doing out here!” a loud male voice demanded, surprising Ethan, who had been leaning up against the alcove wall of a storefront.
“Wha...,” he started to say.
Ethan looked up just in time to see three males, in their mid to late twenties approaching him from the opposite end of the street from the bar. They looked like they’d been having a good time and weren’t exactly feeling any pain.
“You one of those college boys,” asked the one man with a toothpick sticking out the side of his mouth.
This wasn’t good. It took just a matter of seconds for things to change. As he stood there, waiting to see if the girl in the bright red dress might exit the bar alone and head his way, he had felt powerful – a predator on the prowl. He was everything anyone should fear in the night, but now, confronted by these three, he suddenly felt afraid. He knew he could pull out the hunting knife and take them on, but even with it, he had no idea, and seriously doubted, he could take them all. No, he knew his best course of action was retreat.
Without saying anything, Ethan turned as if to head down the street. His path was immediately blocked by one of them.
“You college boys think you’re real smart, don’t you?” said another of the three.
“I’m not a college boy,” he said.
“Think you’re better than us, don’t you?” said the same thug.
“I got to go,” said Ethan, as he tried to push his way past the one who had blocked him.
“The hell you do,” said one, who reached out and grabbed him, by the arm, twirling him around. As he did so, the one thug punched Ethan hard in the stomach, as the other two grabbed him by each arm, to hold him upright, as their buddy laid a couple more well placed punches into Ethan’s stomach, effectively knocking the wind out of him.
“Drag him in the alley,” Ethan heard one of them utter, as he felt himself being involuntarily dragged along, into the darkness of the alley.
“Fucking college boys think you’re better than us,” he heard another one utter, the anger present in his voice. Other things might have been said as well, but the repeated blows to his body and face were distracting him, the pain threatening to overwhelm his senses.
It had never occurred to him that many predators lay waiting in the dark of the city.
The night had been a disaster, but not because anything different happened, but because for the first time in a long time, Melissa was taking serious the fact she hadn’t been taking her life serious. It was obvious that both Stacy and Kiera were going to go home with guys tonight, there was no shortage of takers, and she could have done the same, but it had been slowly dawning on her that there was a fine line between exploring one’s sexuality and sexual experimentation and being foolish, and allowing others to use her like a piece of meat.
She had thought this was what she wanted, but had changed her mind – it was time to change. For the first time ever, Melissa decided to go home early and to go home alone.
“Do you want us to come with you?” Stacy had asked, “That killer is still out there. You don’t want to take any chances.”
Melissa didn’t want to ruin their fun.
“No, I’ll be fine,” she said, getting up from the table. “You guys have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It didn’t take much to convince them to stay behind; as far as she knew, Stacy and Kiera’s marks were good – they didn’t share her problem, or her need to change.
Without further discussion, Melissa made her way out of the bar, unaware of all the unhappy and disappointed eyes who watched her leave – alone.
Ethan had no idea when the beating had stopped. He did know that at some point he had fallen to the pavement in the alley and had curled up into a ball, as the three thugs each took turns kicking him hard. He wasn’t sure when it had ended, probably because in the course of the beating he had blacked out.
When he was next aware of his surroundings, he was no longer being kicked. His body was wracked with pain; he had no idea if he was going to live or die. He was aware that if he was going to live, he wasn’t going to be walking home tonight. He would be found here, and if he was found alive, he couldn’t have the hunting knife on him. He had made a big mistake assuming he was the biggest and meanest beast in the jungle, and because of that, it could all be over. If the hunting knife was found on him, he’d immediately become a top suspect in the recent coed killings; even worst, despite how careful he’d been in cleaning the knife after the last two kills, chances are the police lab would find something; he’d watched enough cop-based TV shows to know it was virtually impossible to clean up all the blood.
With all the strength he could muster, Ethan reached back around him and pulled the hunting knife and its sheath out from the back of his pants. The pain was severe and it took everything he had not to black out again. With great difficult he managed to pull it free.
He was face down on the ground, staring at the underside of a dumpster. With a great deal of effort – and he knew he’d only have one shot at it – Ethan tossed the hunting knife under the dumpster, watching as it slide along the ground, far enough that he hoped it wouldn’t be found by those who eventually found him.
As confident as Melissa had been leaving the bar alone, she did have to admit, she was worried about being out late on her own. As she walked, she had her one hand clenched in a fist, her keys sticking out between each finger. She didn’t have any mace, or anything like that, but figured if someone menacing approached her, she would just lash out and punch him as hard as she could, hoping the keys would do enough damage that it would dissuade her attacker and help her get away.
She had no idea if this would be effective or not, but it was all she could think of, and the thought that it would be effective was somehow comforting.
Melissa walked with purpose. While she didn’t want to be paranoid, there was no point in taking her time – the sooner she got home the better.
Walking fast and only hearing the click clack of her high heels echoing off the sidewalk, Melissa almost didn’t hear the moan coming from the alleyway, but she did and it brought her to a stop.
Every fibre in her body told her to just keep on walking. It was late at night, past midnight, it was dark out, she was alone, and to find out what was causing that moan, she’d have to look into an even darker alleyway. This she knew was foolhardy.
More moans.
Someone was hurting in the alley; or someone was trying to entice her into it – she didn’t know which. She knew she should just keep on walking, but she couldn’t. What if someone was really hurt in there; what if they died because she hadn’t taken the time to check out what was going on and maybe help? She knew she had to look.
Screwing up as much courage as she could muster, she cautiously made her way into the alley, hoping to hell she wasn’t being tricked; if she was she knew her fate – rape, or maybe raped and murdered.
She saw the young male lying on the ground, and as she moved forward, using the flashlight app on her cell phone, she could see he was hurt, blood on the ground around him. He was moaning in pain. It wasn’t a trick. Melissa rushed to him and bent down; someone had worked him over good; he was in bad shape.
Melissa immediately dialed 9-1-1. This guy definitely needed an ambulance. She had no idea who he was, or how he had ended up in this alley all beaten up, but she did know one thing for sure, he was lucky she happened along when she did.