Seeing all the kids at the bus stop he could see himself there, many years ago before the preacher’s kid went bad. When there was still hope that he the only boy, would follow his father’s footsteps. Imagine, him behind the pulpit.

     That wouldn’t have been a bad life. Sure beat the years in jail. Maybe if he’d had a brother instead of two sisters he wouldn’t have felt like he had to be so BAD. That’s what one of the counselors had said when he first started getting in trouble as a kid. He could have expressed himself without always being under scrutiny by the congregation setting him up as an example for the other boys. Another had said the problem was birth order. And so on. . .

     His father had said it was all nonsense that those were excuses. That there were choices and that he’d always made the wrong ones. A hard man,his father. His mother had always tried to protect him from his wrath? and his belt when he was younger, His fist when he was older.

     That wind was really whipping up although it was still very hot. He’d positioned the van’s rearview mirror so he could see her standing there. Now the wind had outlined her body for him. Her long hair streamed behind her like a long, black, silk banner. Judging by the other women in the group she was of average height but above average build. From here he couldn’t see her eyes. He’d always been partial to light eyes with dark hair. But it didn’t matter. It shouldn’t be much longer before she’d head back to the house. Then he’d take his time exploring her.

     Back to waiting in the hot van. His visits home had petered off in his late teens. There seemed no point. By then his mother had died, his sisters had married and moved away. Just his old man left to wave the Bible in his face. To tell him how he’d disgraced the family. To spout verses at him as he turned red in the face.

     He still remembered the last visit, the last verse: " ...Vengeance is mine, and recompense, for the time when their foot shall slip; for the day of their calamity is at hand, and their doom comes swiftly." Deuteronomy 32:35. A hell of a way to say goodbye.

     Still all that Bible thumping as a youngster had helped him behind bars. He usually ended up helping one of the prison chaplains which was lighter duty for sure. Nothing helped the other side of prison life. That’s why he vowed he wouldn’t go back.

     His guard down; sitting there thinking about the past he hadn’t noticed the car stop by the van’s window. " Anything wrong? I noticed you waiting here the last time I came by." Be cool, don’t panic. He noticed the markings on the car. Willow Downs Security. That was the name of this neighborhood. Apparently a private patrol. The guy who’d spoken was an older man, no uniform, probably a volunteer.

     He smiled and said " No problem. Just taking a few minutes to catch up on my paperwork. I’ve been so busy that I’m playing catch-up. My next appointment called and said she’d had to run out and would I mind waiting. It’s okay by me. How are you doing?"

    The other man relieved at the plausible explanation said " OK. Whatever happened to that cold wave the forecasters said was coming from Canada?"

    With that he waved and took off. All the while thinking that he really should find something else to do as a volunteer. Judging from what he could see of the heavily muscled arms and torso of that young man he really didn’t want to tangle with anyone the likes of him. He wasn’t armed. All he had was a radio to call the police and the other security car. By the time they arrived, God knows what could happen to him. It had sounded good. Only three hours a week on patrol and a weekly meeting at the police station with the other guys. It made him feel like he was still macho. All that testosterone, you know. Then they’d said how he’d be helping the community, additional eyes and ears for the cops. Plus it would get him out of the house and give him something to do. Next week he’d tell them his doctor said he needed more rest. Good thing that fellow was legitimate. This was his first encounter. His pulse was racing and he was having trouble catching his breath. The thought of a physical confrontation at his age... maybe he could volunteer at the library for a few hours a week.

    There was the school bus. He’d better park in that alley behind the houses on this street.

    He was hiding in the attic when she returned from the school bus stop down the road. Lots of little kids, a few other women and this babe all waiting as he watched from the van he'd stolen when he and the others had broken out of jail.

    They'd split up, figuring their chances would be better that way. All over Florida, a frantic manhunt was taking place. Here he was, snug as a bug not fifty miles from the prison. The cops thought they'd be making their way to Miami where they all had friends and family. The others did go but he would go later when things had cooled down. Meanwhile it was first things first. How long had it been since he'd been with a woman?

    Also from what he’d seen of the house as he'd rushed in there were lots of things around that he could take; VCR’s, TV's. A pretty woman like that probably had lots of jewelry too. Getting there had been easy. The blue and white house was hers. He’d seen her and two kids leave. They'd passed the van. He'd pretended he was writing, head down, she'd looked at him then ignored him. She must have been in for a morning swim. He could see the bathing suit under that jumper thing she'd thrown over it. Her long black hair was still wet and she'd put on flip-flops for the short walk to the bus stop.

    She was holding the boy and girl tightly by the hand. Ever since that little girl had been abducted and killed a few months back, people had been paranoid about their kids he'd heard. Anyone who'd hurt a kid like that was a real sicko and deserved the treatment other inmates gave them and which the guards ignored. He was no pervert. So he robbed convenience stores and gas stations. It wasn't his fault that the manager of the last station had gone all macho on him and started shooting.

    It was self defense but would they listen? His lawyer had tried but what with the guy dying, his priors, and that complication where he'd run down one of the customers trying to get away. He'd crashed into a truck pulling in for gas and came to surrounded by cops and paramedics. They'd given him life in prison. Bad but better than the electric chair. A year and five months later he luckily joined up with the getaway group. So far so good.

    He'd never attacked a woman before. Never had to. In his current circumstances he couldn't very well go out in public and meet someone, could he? He'd be kind. He knew how to treat a woman. He was a little scruffy right now but hey he was a good looking guy. She'd probably want to stay with him afterwards. They could be like Bonnie and Clyde. But if she didn't cooperate he had the knife he'd picked up in the kitchen.

    What was going on down there? Was that the radio or TV or was there someone with her? It sounded like another woman. Probably one of the neighbors at the stop, back for coffee. If so she should be leaving soon. That's OK he could wait. He had nowhere in particular to go. He could rest, make some plans. Wish it wasn't so hot up here though.

    When he'd come in the back - the sliding glass door had been a joke, he'd quickly looked around then noticed that the ladder to the attic was down. He'd climbed up here thinking - excellent hideaway. The cops would never find me here. Now the heat was becoming unbearable and bugs were all over the place. You'd think neither would bother him, a native son. He couldn't seem to get comfortable either. Didn't want to make any unnecessary noise. Wish he'd picked up something to drink before he came up here. Sweat dripping from him he fantasized no longer about the woman, but about her pool, and the air-conditioning in the house below. The heat was making him drowsy. "Just a little nap. wonder what they're doing down there. They've been coming in and out. That banging screen door is keeping me awake he joked as he dozed off.    

    He awoke to footsteps overhead. "What, I must be dreaming. Why would anyone be up on the roof?" Sitting up abruptly in the cramped quarters he heard several men calling to each other and banging and crashing noises. "Could it be the cops?" Hearing the men laugh and realizing the noise had a rhythm, a pattern he relaxed a bit. "It sounds like they're working up there. Geez, just my luck. Were they painters or could they be working on the roof? Now what?"

    Still fuzzy from sleep he tried to assess the new situation. "OK it looks like there's some kind of work going on out there and some guys but that still won't keep me from keeping my date with my honey. It'll be more exciting. Then I'm out of here. Got to get downstairs. I've wasted enough time."

    Carefully he crept down the stairs. This hallway was in the center of the house with all the rooms leading off it. He should be able to see into most of the rooms from here. But he could be seen easily too so he was careful to hug the wall as he peered into the rooms one by one.

    He froze at movement in one room only to realize he'd looked at a mirrored wall and faced himself. Edging towards the kitchen he noticed it was empty and the cardboard boxes by the screen door were all gone too. So that's why the door was banging so much. She and her friend must have carried them all out earlier.    

    How long had he been asleep? It looked pretty dark out. Then he noticed that it wasn't evening, the windows were covered somehow. The painters had probably draped them to keep from spattering the glass. Where was she? Could she have gone to pickup the kids already? Oh well, might as well make the best of the situation. He went to the kitchen, grabbed some sodas. How odd there was nothing else in the fridge. The plants were all gone too. It looked like a jungle earlier. Not waiting to forage for food in other areas he grabbed a pillow and a sheet from one of the bedrooms and went up to the attic again. "I'll hole up here tonight and be gone early tomorrow. It looks like she missed her big chance." Being on the run as he'd been he needed to catch up on his sleep. He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

    He didn't hear or see the curious children, neighbors and his honey as they watched the workmen finish tenting the building. Making it airtight so they could begin the deadly gassing of the termites and any other inhabitants of the house. They wore protective gear as the mortal gas was absorbed through the skin.