The black SUV turned the corner, pulling on to a street in a dirty section of Sacramento located near the railroad tracks in southeast Sacramento. The street was lined on one side by blank warehouses and the other by chain-link fences denying access to empty lots littered with trash. Cracked sidewalks ran along on either side and it was lit by the orange glow cast by municipal streetlights.

At 3:30AM the street was almost completely empty. A bum slept in the shadow of one of the warehouses, a broken down cardboard box draped over him. A man lazily rode his bicycle down the center of the street. A thin woman walked the opposite way down the sidewalk.

The car pulled up beside the woman walking, well kept brakes coming soundlessly to a halt. As the woman stopped walking and looked over the tinted window rolled down, but it was too dark in the cab to see the driver's face.

"Hey baby. Looking for a date?" crooned the woman, who was rail thin with bad skin and wide bloodshot eyes. Her blond hair was tangled and the tanktop and jeans she wore were dirty. Her entire look fairly screamed 'Freebaser.'

At first there was no reply from inside the truck, and the woman began to squirm - whether it was from deprivation of her drug of choice or from the cold gaze she felt sweeping over her, though she still couldn't make anything out beyond the man's hat - one of those wide brimmed fedoras that had been so popular once.

"Come on, baby, I---"

"Get in" came the order from within the cab, cutting the woman off short mid-sentence.

The woman had gotten in dozens - maybe hundreds - of cars. She'd been hurt, sometimes very badly, but it was all worth it in her endless support of the high. This time, though, something within her pulled and screamed for her to run - to put as much distance between herself and the black truck as she could. The feeling reminded her of being faced with a snarling dog - the sinking sensation when one realizes it's dealing with something that didn't follow the same rules as people do. It was the fight or flight feeling that had served ancient man so well.

In the end, though, the prospect of scoring won the battle against her growing feeling of dread.

The lights in the cab didn't turn on when she opened the door, and no sooner had she closed the door than the driver pulled away from the sidewalk and drove into the night. She had hoped the feeling of dread would abate when she got in, but instead it had grown. There was something different about tonight.

She muttered her usual prices - nothing expensive - reciting them in a way that was obviously well rehearsed. The man didn't answer, and they drove in silence for a couple of minutes that seemed to pass like hours. Finally the truck pulled into the parking lot of a closed down gas station.

This was her chance to run and she knew it. Her hand was slowly moving toward the door handle when she heard the rustling of the man's clothes as he turned to face her.

"How about $100 and I do whatever I want?" more to the point was the hand - its skin stretched and somewhat odd colored - that reached across to her holding a small stack of 20s between long thin fingers.

The woman flinched as if the man had struck her. His offer was too good for her to pass up. No matter what.

She reaches out and takes the money, feeling as if she's just entered into a deal with the devil. "Wh-What do you want to do?" she croaks

Even as she asked the dark figure in the driver's seat leaned over, seeming to grow larger and loom over her. The darkness wrapped her up and she felt a brief sting on her neck before drifting into a dream that was strange and unsettling, but as good as any high she'd felt.

--------------------

Once Arnold had drained the addicted woman of most of her blood he took back his money. Reaching over and opening the car door he pushed the groaning, dazed woman out of the car where she tumbled to the hard asphalt. Leaving her there he started the vehicle and pulled away, turning the corner out of the lot and driving back to his Hotel.