36) Perhaps I am waking up a bit, the bestial within me is weakening. It is a good and puzzling thing I do when I slow the vehicle down and, despite the fire, I drive back to the couple I threw insensate or worse in the grass. I have the urge to help. I must, of course, steal the vehicle, but I think I should help enough so that they do not suffer an ugly burn. I am afraid of fire above all else, so, Dr. Creep, if you are watching, you will learn a little of my selfless, charming side. Do I dare toy with heroism? I can't be a hero until I actually do something besides idle near the couple, as I am doing now. I feel a temptation to heroism, it is like a deep spiritual tickle, even though those words mean next to nothing, I mean, really. So, Doctor, here I am. There is fire now on both sides of the road. Yet I am out of the vehicle. I am standing close to the pair. I can see physical features and adornments specific to them. I actually sense their distinction, that they have lives to live, plenty of life left, assuming the best. Man, woman. He is wearing white trousers and a white shirt, open at the dirty collar. She is akimbo in a plaid skirt held together by a jeweled pin. They both have gray hair. Doctor, I feel the heroic urge rising. Flames leap to brush a few feet away. I must act soon. Doctor, now I see, I am worth saving. I have it in my power to step in and leave a clear impress on the fates of others. I can be a force for good. Oh, Doctor! How bright is this light!

The flames are closing upon the vehicle. The tires might begin burning, just as the shoes of my insensate couple in fact are. Can it be heroic to save the vehicle, and myself, alone? It is very hot. Heavy smoke makes it harder to see them. Something stronger than heroism is twisting in me. The usual: fear, pain, and my old friend, the terror of fire. Dr. Creep, I must escape now. You saw me poised to do a great thing, didn't you? Had you been standing somewhere near I would have saved them. Just to show you. It is a little your fault the pair now smolders. The best I can do is make sure they are deceased. Which I do with his and her stones.

It is getting dark. The dust and smoke rises behind me as I drive away. I cannot make out the place of the events of a few minutes ago. It is as good as gone. All just memories, now. I feel better. The vehicle is safe. I am safe. So something good did come of this. In the back seat is a fancy basket, but nearly everything contained has been eaten to wrappers. There is a little wine left, surprisingly. Malbec. Dark, brooding, inky. Like every night of my stupid life. Easy, easy.

I did not drive for long until the vehicle stopped running. I spent the night inside, tucked and curled around my luke warm core. I dreampt of a slaughter house. I was working there. I wielded a buzz saw in the manner expected. Cattle were reduced to smaller and smaller parts, all in a worthy effort to finally fit them into the tiny mouths of people. They were waiting in a long line down the road. I was the second step. The first was to end the life of the cow. My job was to take great hacking swats at the upended things. In my dream I slipped in the mess at my feet. My saw put an end to me.

I woke up in sickness. I had wretched down my front. I wiped the bile from my mouth. I looked through the windshield outside at the clouds. They faintly reflected fire or lights from a city over the hills. Cold weather was coming. The clouds were parted, open in places, drifting slowly, in any case. Two bright stars briefly shown like hateful eyes looking down on the filth of my life.

It will be dawn soon. Dr. Creep, where are you?