Marco rose.
“I...I’m sorry you had to see that, Justine.”
“He’s fast,” she replied, wearing a grimace as if she tasted something sour. “And he moves very fluid, when he wants to.”
She was sizing him up. He could see her gathering her courage, preparing to do battle.
“Don’t think like that.”
“Like what?”
“You’re ready to fight him.”
“I don’t see many other options. I can handle myself, Marco. You think I spent over a year with the most dangerous man alive and learned nothing?”
Marco glanced past her, at the items she’d taken off of him, lying on the desk. The book, the car keys, Leon’s knife, the walkie-talkie and the pistol.
Suddenly, he leapt across the room, side-stepping Justine, and grabbed one of them. She turned in unison, so that when he’d steadied himself again, he was staring down the barrel of that little snub-nose revolver.
“What are you doing?”
“Turn off the sound on the T.V.”
“Put that down.”
“No.” He held the radio near his mouth. “Turn it off. I’m going to draw him out.”
“Out where?”
“Outside. I’m going to tell him that his friend Leon is still alive. That…that he’s my hostage!” He said, the plan forming as he spoke. “Watch on the screen. Once you see that we’re both outside, you take my car keys and go out the back window. Loop around along the edge of the forest. You’ll find a blue compact car. Get far away from here. Go as close to Garland as you can. He won’t follow you there.”
“What about you?”
“I came here to rescue you. And that’s what I’m doing.”
“But, you heard Jacob,” she said. “I’m the same as all of you. More dangerous, even.”
You’ve got to stop looking at them as people. They ain’t.
He was silent a moment. Then he raised his eyes to meet hers.
“You’re a person. Turn off the audio. He’ll hear the echo and know I’m in here with you.”
“Do you…do you think you stand a chance against him?”
“My old Lieutenant in the Army…he told me once that I was the worst shot he’d ever seen.”
He smiled at this. She didn’t.
“Show me your eyes,” he said.
“My eyes…”
“I haven’t seen blue eyes in a long time.”
She nodded. First, she turned off the audio. Then, one by one she removed the contact lenses and placed them down. She flicked her eyes open and looked at him. Such a pretty color blue.
“You have…nice eyes.”
“I’ve heard,” she said.
Marco closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. In and out. Then he brought the radio up to his lips. He pressed it on.
“Knox,” he said. “Come in.”
5
-SPAGHETTI WEST-
-Marco-
THE MANOR WAS SILENT. He stepped out of the safe room and Justine quickly closed the door behind him. Crowe remained seated, head tilted over the back of the chair at a grotesque angle. The ruin that was his shredded neck lay open like a mouth. His arms hung limp at his sides. His suit was ruined, as was the fine carpet beneath his feet.
And Knox was gone.
The stillness of the room was unnerving to Marco. As he stepped out into the long hall, it was as if he could hear the echoes of the horror he’d just witnessed. First the grenade, then the gunshots, then Knox howling and banging on the door and finally, Jacob Crowe’s final pleas before his screams turned to gurgles turned to bubbles of blood. Turned to silence.
Marco walked slowly down the hall, his left hand lingering beside the weapon at his hip. Ready to draw, finally, if need be. The conversation on the radio echoed in his mind as well, blotting out that silence and the swell of anxiety it brought with it. Bursts of static, then two voices.
“Knox. Come in.”
“Who is this?”
“Marco.”
A pause.
“The Stray.”
“Yeah. Him.”
“Where’s Leon?”
“He’s with me. He’s my prisoner.”
“Put him on.”
“Can’t. He’s unconscious.”
“You’re lying.”
“Try me.”
“Tell me where you are.”
“You have to promise not to bring any of your Bloodline friends. I just want you. That pile of helmets out back of the Armory…I’m gonna add your head to it.”
At the end of the hall, where the two wings merged at the top of the stairwell, Marco halted. It had taken a fair share of courage to rile Knox up. Bravado bordering on recklessness.
“I so hope you try. I need a few hours. Then I’m yours, Stray.”
“It has to be now. Or Leon dies. Come to the rendezvous point. You have thirty minutes.”
“I’ll meet you halfway. The lake beside the mansion. Bring Leon with you.”
Below, amongst the broken glass and the charred carpet floor were the other two bodies. Jacob Crowe’s private guards, both dead. Knox had made such short work of them. He’d let them rise and grab their weapons and he’d given the first draw, same as he had with Nathan Conrad. But, they hadn’t been quick enough to squeeze off even a shot. Neither had Conrad, whose own exploits were the stuff of legend. He and Stocker Wade had both been exemplary killers by any standard, yet both had been felled by a cocky bastard in a jersey, popping bubblegum. As he walked down the opposite hall, Marco tried to push this to the back of his mind, but it was nigh impossible.
Somewhere out there in the dark, the Kid was waiting, patiently, for a gunfight.
When he reached the bedroom where he’d entered the house, the family and the little boy were long gone, but the window remained ajar. Marco planned to drop down the same way he’d come in, then circle around and approach the lake from the south, so as not to tip Knox off that he’d just come from the manor. By then, he assumed Justine would be following his path, out in the brush, heading towards the little blue Toyota he’d left in the woods, and freedom.
“I think you’re heading the wrong way.”
On the bed before him, a figure was kicking up its tiny legs. Left, right. Left, right. Marco ignored the little girl. Out the window he went, into the cool night air. A light mist was falling. The fog had grown even thicker. He climbed down slowly, until he was low enough to let himself drop. Marco landed in the tall grass, falling into a crouched position. He circled around to approach from the south and make it as convincing as possible. As he moved closer, the outline of a man came into view. A silhouette in the distance. A lone gunman.
~
Knox spotted him before he could get close. He didn’t rise to attack, however. He just waited, hands on his hips, as if he were more prepared for a negotiation than a fight. At least at first. Marco halted a good ten feet from the man. His left hand twitched. He let it hover by his sheathed M9 Beretta. Sooner or later, he’d have to pull it from the holster.
Up close, the Bloodline’s most famous son didn’t look himself. There was something strange about how still he stood, as if he were hardly even drawing breath. His hair had changed, too. What had once been jet black was lined with a few streaks of silver-gray. There was something almost feral about his scowl, and the way his eyes glared from those sunken sockets in the dark.
“No Leon.”
“No.”
Knox flexed his right hand.
“You never had him, then,” Knox said.
“No.”
“Is he alive?”
Marco swallowed. He couldn’t bring himself to answer.
Knox paused a moment, letting it sink in.
“How?” he asked, voice cracking just a bit.
“Leon found me. We were attacked on the way to you. Pushed off the road. They shot up the car with Leon in it. Someone named Erika Strauss.”
“Deadeyes.”
“Yeah.”
&nbs
p; “They got him. But, not you.”
“They…they left me to carry on the message.”
“And so you have. Those cunts. He deserved better.”
“He did.”
“Shut your fucking mouth!” Knox called out. He took a breath, composing himself. “You wanna act like you were one of us but you weren’t. Leon never gave a shit about you. He was playing you. From the start.”
Knox’s eyes shot down to the gun at Marco’s hip.
“Go on. You get the first draw. Pull, Stray. Be a man for once in your fucking life.”
Marco was still as a statue. Both men waited, frozen, ready to leap into action the moment he reached down to pull the weapon from his hip. The mist continued to fall, and a heavy breeze brushed by, whipping up Knox’s hair. Marco breathed. He needed to make his shot count. Mentally, he walked himself through the motion. He’d draw, then raise up, holding the gun in both hands, pull back the hammer, look down the sight and fire from a balanced shooting position. Same as he learned in boot camp. He imagined it as one fluid motion. Fast, but not rushed. Precise, true to his mechanics. Before moving even slightly, Marco made a note of where he’d aim. He picked out a spot, right between Knox’s eyes.
The roaches were skittering through the grass all around him. Marco drew.
Aimed.
Fired.
One fluid motion, same as he’d planned. He hit air. Knox had been there one moment and was gone the next. Poof, and he’d vanished. He was behind Marco now. No, to the side. Now flashing in front of him. He saw a glint of steel, then he felt the razor. Knox slashed at his arm, now his cheek, now the back of his leg. He felt the quick stings of pain, then a rush of hot blood. Marco was whirling around, gun raised, stumbling and damn near tripping over his own feet as the blur that was Knox ran circles around him in the fog. He was too fast. He hardly seemed human.
Firing blindly into the fog wasn’t an option. In the back of his mind Marco knew he had only two bullets. Training wheels, Leon had called it. It was about to get him killed.
The next thing that hit him was a fist. First to the chest, then another caught him in the throat. Dazed, he reached out to grab Knox, to pull him close enough to put a bullet in his head. He fired off another shot, echoing into the night, and then Knox slapped the gun from his grasp. He kneed him in the belly, knocking the wind out of him, and then tossed him into the grass. Marco could hardly see, then. He was on his knees, half-blind, bleeding from what felt like a dozen different wounds, as he tried to find that damned Beretta. Knox lifted his head, so they were face to face, so he could see that terrible tooth that had sprouted. A vampire’s incisor. Impossible.
“AND WHERE THE FUCK IS MY BIKE?!” Knox snarled, and then punched him square in the forehead.
It made a sickening wet sound as Knox hit him that last time, and then he was falling backwards into the tall grass. Marco’s head bounced off the ground and then he lay there, limbs splayed out in every direction. Standing up and fighting back seemed an impossibility. Even if he’d wanted to, his body was done responding to his commands. All he could do was lay here and hope that no more violence awaited him, a hope that was surely in vain. He didn’t even have the energy to cry or plead. Whatever happened would happen. He’d done his part.
“You finished already?” Knox was breathing deep. He’d expended some energy giving Marco the beating of a lifetime. “I don’t know why, but I expected more out of you.” Knox glanced back towards the lake.
Marco felt a pair of hands around his ankles, and then he was being dragged through the tall grass, bumping his head along the way. He coughed, tears in his eyes. Damn near his entire body felt as if it had gone limp. His Beretta was long gone, hidden back there somewhere, amongst all that green. When they reached the edge of the lake, Knox propped him up against an incline, so Marco was forced into a sitting position. Knox knelt in front of him.
“Stay with me. Hey,” he snapped a finger in front of his face. “Hey. You think you’ve killed enough time yet?”
Marco glanced up at him.
“There you are,” Knox said. “You beat me here, didn’t you? Yeah. You thought, what, I’d chalk up that radio call to convenient timing? If I’m a betting man, I say you got here first, saw that your girl was trapped and tried to draw me out so she could escape. Right? You’re stalling.”
“No.”
“Do you realize how ludicrous that is? You’re about to sacrifice yourself so that she can go on infecting people. Doing more damage. You’ve been the villain the whole time, out here thinking he’s the hero.” He drew his blade. “But, not for long.”
Knox pressed the razor just below Marco’s eye. He moved his neck backward, trying to dodge it. Knox poked at him again, a glint in his eye, like a wicked little kid playing a game.
“Your problem is, I didn’t come alone. I posted my guys at every exit. They’re in the forest now, looking for her. If she’s on foot, it’s only a matter of time before they find her. And she must be on foot. I don’t hear any engines starting, do you?” He paused, and they both listened to the silence of the night. “Tell me which direction to look. Or this will be worse for you.”
Marco made no answer.
“Still stalling.”
“I’m not stalling.” He said, through gritted teeth.
“I know what you want,” Knox growled. He grabbed Marco by the back of the head. “I know what you’ve always wanted. And I’m gonna give it to you!”
The scavenger pulled him close and cut into Marco’s cheek. He screamed, trying to squirm away, but Knox was too strong. One long line down, then the two sideways lumps. His face was covered in blood by the time it was through. A hundred times, he thought he might pass out from the pain, but something kept him awake. He laid back when it was done, unable to bring his hand up to face to touch his newest wound.
Knox stood over him, the bloody knife in hand.
“Good job stalling, Stray.”
Marco could only open one eye. He stared up at Knox, vision foggy.
I’m not stalling.
Knox wiped the blade on his shirt. He put a hand on his hip, admiring his work.
I’m bait.
Instantly, Knox’s chest seemed to explode. A flurry of bullets: one, two, three, all hitting their mark as Justine unloaded on him from behind. The scavenger fell to his knees, trying in vain to draw those silver pistols. Marco’s vision was fading. He hoped Justine had been listening to their conversation.
There are others coming. They’ll have heard the shots. You need to run, now. You need to hide.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. And then it was over, and his only company was the darkness.
6
-FOR THE PAIN-
-Justine-
MURDER WAS SUPPOSED TO BE EASIER. She stood, frozen there, a spatter of blood on her face and neck, little dots of red covering her like freckles. She tasted copper, the stench of death hitting her nostrils. She did her best to ignore the pungent scent, but it was near impossible. She was crying, she realized, as the six-gun slipped from her grasp and clanked against the floor. She didn’t bother to jump when it did so, despite how easily it could’ve gone off and added another body to the pile. Zeke had made killing look so effortless, so casual.
Justine dropped to her knees and vomited.
Three men were dead. After she’d plugged Knox full of holes, his cohorts had followed, descending on her one by one. The last of them had chased her back towards the house. She’d led him all the way up the stairs, and ducked into a closet in the hallway, only to emerge and fire her final two bullets. She caught him between the eyes. He’d had such a dumb look on his face when he fell. Utter surprise, with the slightest hint of disappointment. They’d come here to capture a helpless little girl. None of them had been expecting to die.
Marco, too, was probably dead. She’d waited too long to make her move. Once Knox started carving into him, he blocked her best opportunity for a shot. The two
men had resembled the beast with two backs in that moment, though nothing could be further from the truth. She’d hear Marco’s screams in her nightmares, she had no doubt. She’d convinced him to serve as bait, just as she had so many times with Zeke, until the opportune moment when she promised to swoop in and save him. He’d done his part, perfectly. But, she’d been too late.
She dry heaved, down on one knee. When she was sure there was nothing left inside of her, she scooped up the gun and stumbled downstairs, hanging on to the railing with each clumsy step. The strap of her dress had fallen again, and she pulled it onto her shoulder.
Upstairs, she’d found her bedroom closet empty. David had run off at some point during the night. So, he wasn’t that stupid after all. There was a rough road ahead of that one, same as all the other residents. He was another coddled indoor tabby cat released into a wild full of ragged, hungry strays. Downstairs, she opened Benjamin’s metal cell. Letting him starve to death inside a silver box seemed too cruel for her taste, though she supposed Zeke would have done it no problem. When the door slid open he stood up, fists raised, ready for a fight. But, one look at the blood-spattered beauty, and he instantly lost his resolve.
“Go,” she said, lazily, and for once he didn’t have a snippy retort. He ran with his tail between his legs, same as all the rest.
Outside, she found him last, not moving and bleeding from a dozen holes. The blood had mostly dried, but she still couldn’t make out the grotesque carving on Marco’s face. Her stomach dropped at the sight of him.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.
She knelt and pressed two fingers to his throat.
He had a pulse.
~
She drove down the winding roads of Ridgewood, and in the backseat Marco slumbered. She watched him in the rearview, monitoring his breathing.
It’d been months since she’d gotten behind the wheel of a car. It felt good, driving with the windows down and pressing down the gas pedal. For a moment, she felt like she could drive anywhere. She could take this hunk of junk on the highway and go down to Florida. See Miami or Disney World. Or, she could turn her heels west and head for Boulder, Colorado. Austin, Texas. Vegas. San Francisco, and that blissful other coast.
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