The Killer Net

Instant Message

1999...

The lightning flashed outside Amy Renzine's window. Thunder boomed in the distance. A strong, cool breeze suddenly rustled the curtain a couple feet away from her seat.

Amy adjusted the collar of her soft, pink nightgown before she reached over to shut the window. She closed it just as the rain started to pound the roof.

She pressed the skip button on her CD player and went back to typing on her computer keyboard. She began to sing along with the lyrics about a person dreaming of the perfect lover and feeling like she knew him even before they actually met.

DING! The instant message, or IM for short, alert chimed from her computer's speakers. She turned down the CD player volume so she could give her full attention to the conversation that popped up in the chat window on her computer monitor.

ULUVME: Have you changed your mind about meeting me tonight?

Amy typed YES, then erased the letters. She tapped the side of her white keyboard with her fingernail. Should I do it, she wondered. Should I really meet a guy in person that I've been talking to over the Internet?

Another IM window popped up, accompanied by its own dinging sound. Amy rolled her eyes when she saw the chat ID of MICROMAN. She reasoned aloud, "OK, Amy, here are your choices: it's either stay home alone - again, meet ULUVME who actually sounds pretty interesting, or meet this one, MICROMAN, a 68 year old bald guy with no teeth!"

She grabbed the mouse and clicked the X in the top right corner of the MICROMAN chat box.

Amy pushed a strand of her strawberry blonde hair behind her ears. Her fingers dangled above the keyboard. She spoke aloud to herself again. "You're 28 years old, Amy, you're not getting any younger sitting here by yourself. What the hell..."

Amy typed her name, address, and telephone number into the chat window.

She was too nervous to watch the screen while waiting for a response so she turned her head toward the bedroom window. Amy watched the raindrops run down the glass while she waited patiently for her potential Internet paramour to respond.

The chime caught her attention.

ULUVME: Hope you're ready - for anything.

AMY378: LOL. So, what's your real name?

Another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky. A thunder clap rattled the windows. The PC crackled with a strange static noise. The screen went blank.

Amy screamed when she felt something in her lap. She jumped back in her seat. The chair rolled back a few inches and hit the edge of her bed. "Stupid cat," she scolded when she realized what had startled her.

The cat ignored her outburst and rubbed against her legs which meant he wanted to be picked up. Amy obliged.

She sat back down at her desk chair and looked at the blank computer screen. "I hope this thing reboots itself," she complained. "Otherwise I may never get to find out what this ULUVME guy is all about."

The lightning flashed outside again. Amy's lights went out.

The cat howled in the darkness.

* * *

A few hours later, the power had been restored to Amy's room as evidenced by the glow of the computer monitor. The bloody hands soiled her white keyboard as they typed via the two finger method.

The right hand reached for the mouse and moved it slightly. The index finger clicked. The speakers beeped and a message popped up on the screen: E-MAIL MESSAGE SENT

The cat jumped on the bed next to Amy's dead body. Her vacant eyes stared into nothingness.

Amy's killer surveyed his work. A smile of satisfaction started behind his eyes. It made its way through his cheekbones and settled in his mouth. He closed her bedroom door as he exited.

The cat licked Amy's lifeless face.

* * *

Officer Miguel DeRosa rushed into the police station. He adjusted his tie with one hand and simultaneously gulped a large coffee with the other hand.

The cop was careful not to spill anything on his uniform. He knew his athletic body filled it out well and he didn't want anything to ruin his look.

His colleague, Detective Alan Baker, stood by the door watching DeRosa rush into the room. Because of his patient demeanor, Detective Baker was known around the precinct as the "kindergarten teacher of the department." Sometimes that was a compliment and sometimes it wasn't depending on who was making the observation.

Although Baker was the same age (thirty-three) as DeRosa, he had already been promoted through the ranks of patrolman and shift supervisor before attaining his current detective grade. That meant he got to wear street clothes, which in his case turned out to be dress pants and a dress shirt with a plain colored tie. He kept the cuffs unbuttoned and rolled the long sleeves up a couple turns.

Baker casually looked down at his watch and saw the time of 11:20 PM. Despite Baker's subtlety, DeRosa noticed the movement. "s**t, is he here?" DeRosa asked.

Detective Baker chose to ignore the foul language. He did his best impression of a baseball umpire, hand gestures included. "You're...safe!"

"Good. I don't need Sgt. Crawford on my ass tonight," DeRosa stated.

Baker swiped his hand through the air dismissively. "He's got other things on his mind."

"Oh?"

Baker handed Officer DeRosa a piece of paper. "This just came through that new Internet website the police department put up recently."

DeRosa's face scrunched up a bit. He didn't have to say the profanity out loud this time. The expression on his face said it for him - this is some twisted s**t. DeRosa did read aloud what was printed on the paper:

Ten little girls sat at their computers

Wondering who they'd find online

One entered a chat room with a killer

And then there were nine...