can't figure out why anyone would want to hurt Dawn. She's just the sweetest girl. Nice to everyone. And shy, too. Hell, she's only had one boyfriend since she's been here. And what sucks is she'd just met some guy she really liked. At a frat party! Can you believe that?"
I shook my head. "At which fraternity did she meet this gentleman?"
"Smegma Chi."
"Excuse me?"
The woman laughed. "Sorry, I mean Sigma Chi. That's just a joke. They're good guys, but they get hammered at those parties and become real jerks, calling us Dick Grabbers. A girl's really gotta watch herself."
"Why do you go to these parties if your hosts behave so disgracefully?"
"Well, the partiesare fun, there's free beer, plus no one's checking IDs. Besides, Smegma's been throwing the best parties this semester. Once a month, on the night of the full moon, they go all out. That's where Dawn met that guy, at the March full moon party."
"When is the next full moon?"
"Let's see, they threw their April party a couple weeks ago, so I guess in another couple weeks. And it's the last full moon of the semester. And I'm pretty sure it'll be a Saturday night! It'll be the best party of the whole school year. I bet you'll probably be taking lots of people there."
"And taking them home too?"
"Maybe, maybe not." The woman winked, then walked toward the sorority house. I watched her until the door closed behind her, then waited a little while longer, just to be sure, silently wishing her health and safety.
****
My shift's end evaluation determined that it was indeed a good shift; my mood was that of satisfied exhilaration as I refueled my cab, especially because Nicole was refueling at the same time. She had worked for her roommate, Maggie. Nicole had said she needed the money because her quickly approaching final examinations would cause her to miss work. Regardless of the reason, it pleased me that she had worked this night, for it provided more mutual free time for us.
"Got us a vid," Nicole said, waving a video cassette in the air, overhead halogen light reflecting off the plastic case. "By the way, you ever figure out how to program your VCR?"
I smiled shyly. A thousand years old, an accomplished biologist, biochemist and a few other things, yet this contemporary technology was beyond my comprehension. "That contraption is the work of sheer devilment," I replied.
"Don't feel bad." She smiled saucily, almost tauntingly. "A million VCR owners can't program their own machines."
"Ah, such security in the company of such competent minions. It is quite reassuring. So, what will we be viewing tonight?"
The saucy smile turned downright devilish. "H.P. Lovecraft'sRe-Animator . I've heard it's supposed to be pretty good." Her gas pump clicked off loudly. Nicole coaxed a bit more fuel into her tank, then hung the nozzle.
"Ah, Lovecraft," I replied, "the father of modern horror. Of Modernist horror. No longer evil, but otherness. A writer far ahead of his time."
"A sexist pig actually, and a racist too," Nicole corrected.
"Once again, you have chosen horror. Why are we always watching films literally dripping with red-dyed corn syrup? Would there be anything wrong with a nice comedy, or perhaps a romance?"
Nicole laughed loudly, her expression that of feigned nausea. "Guilty pleasure, I guess. They're fun. Fake horror is a good way to forget about the horrors of the real world. It's therapy." She climbed inside her cab, tires squealing as she searched to find the last available parking space, leaving me to have to move my car in order to park my cab.
Moving with great alacrity, I managed to reach the dispatch office at roughly the same time as Nicole, only to find Dexter sitting in the dispatch chair, indeed a puzzling scene. By the blisters of Satan, what was he doing there on a Friday night? Was this not his weekend? Where was the other dispatcher?
He handed us our call slips, hands shaking, face ashen. His Adam's apple bobbed rapidly up and down, but there was no joy in his face, which was the expression that normally accompanied the excited movement in his throat.
"What are you doing here, Dexter?" I asked.
He looked at me, eyes glazed. "Howard was too upset. He split." He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, his Adam's apple bobbing with increasing rapidity. "The police called a little while ago. They asked us not to say anything over the radio."
"What's wrong?" Nicole asked. I felt her hand reach for me, fingers clamping