Ken Douglas - Nightwitch

John Coffee struggled for air as his bare feet slapped the winter sand. He was running into the wind, finding it hard to move, harder to breathe. It started to rain as he tore across the dark, early morning beach. He yelled, but the sound of the crashing surf smothered his warning. All he could do was keep charging toward the dunes and hope he could stop them before they killed her.

He had been watching them for the last hour. Three from the dregs of any one of America’s larger cities. Spending some time here, before they moved on. Come to beg for a few days, or to rob. They needed money. Coffee hated it when they used needles. There was something wrong with men who sent the white death flying through their veins.

It made them so they couldn’t think straight.

He’d come across their kind before.

He knew what they would do to the woman.

She should have turned back when she reached the pier, like she did yesterday and the day before. But she didn’t. Life wasn’t fair. She was out before the sun, so maybe she had some extra time this morning. Maybe the runner’s high clicked in late. Maybe she just felt good. But whatever the reason, she shouldn’t have to die because she ran farther than usual.

He heard her scream as his right foot slammed into a rock and he went rolling onto his side. The night vision glasses dug into his ribs, then slipped off his shoulder as he struggled to his feet. He didn’t waste time groping for them in the dark.

He never should have let it get this far. He should have stopped the woman. Warned her. Even though it was none of his business, he couldn’t let the woman die this way. Sometimes you had to get involved.

She screamed again, the sound carried to him on the wind as he tore up the dune.

“ Don’t, please don’t,” he heard her plead. They’d done this before. The big man was using a long bladed knife to slice through the woman’s jogging shorts and panties while another held her from behind. She was already naked from the waist up.

One of the men was standing off, watching his two companions. Coffee backhanded him as he came off the dune, striking him in the bridge of his nose, driving bone and cartilage into the brain. The man was dead before he hit the ground. Coffee kept going, went for the big man with the knife.

The man holding the woman shouted a warning and the big man turned, but too late. Coffee blocked the knife with his left and broke the big man’s jaw with his right. The man screamed and stumbled, but didn’t go down.

The second man, the one with the pock-marked face, released the woman and flicked open a switchblade. Two men, two knives.

Coffee slipped between them while they were still trying to figure out what went wrong. Needles, he thought, they dulled the senses.

“ Behind me,” he said, in a throaty voice, barely above a whisper. The woman stood still, stunned. “Now,” not any louder, but said with force. The woman moved. Now, to get at her, the men would have to go through him.

“ Marty,” the big man said, “you all right?”

“ He’s dead,” Coffee said.

“ Garth,” the man with the pock-marked face said, “he kilt him.”

“ Shut up, Eddie,” the big man named Garth said, turning an angry gaze toward John Coffee. The words came out, “Ut ut, Eddie,” either from drink or the broken jaw, but his meaning was clear.

“ Back off and live,” Coffee said.

“ We got the knives,” Eddie said. “What do you have?”

“ Lady,” he said, “this never happened. Go home. Forget. I’ll take care of these men.”

“ I won’t leave you. I can fight,” she said. Coffee was surprised. To her the odds had to appear poor. Two men, both big, armed with knives. They were about to rape and kill her, she had to know that. Yet she wouldn’t run.

“ Yeah, lady, stay,” Eddie said, and he charged, holding the switchblade above his head, blade down, like an amateur. Coffee blocked the thrust with a backhand blow that sent the knife flying. Eddie howled and jumped away.

“ Look out,” the woman yelled. Coffee ducked in time to save his head as the long knife sliced through the air where his neck had been. He lashed out at Garth, but the big man was faster than he looked, dodging Coffee’s blow and delivering a punishing left to the side of his face.

Coffee staggered, he hadn’t expected coordination from the man. He was big, drunk, hopped up and apparently feeling no pain, because his broken jaw hadn’t slowed him down.

He backed away from Garth as the knife came for him again, but again it found only air. He held the knife like a sword. Garth was speeding, but he knew how to use a knife in a fight. Coffee slid to the left, expecting Garth to charge on past, but he turned with him and Coffee felt the blade prick his abdomen as he jumped back.

“ Get away, Garth. I’ll get him,” Eddie yelled. He had a gun. Garth moved back as the woman jumped on Eddie’s back. He screamed when she sank her teeth into his neck. She wrapped an arm around him and grabbed onto his gun hand, shaking it and forcing the shots to go wild.

Coffee turned back to Garth, who was still diverted, watching the naked woman terrorize Eddie. Coffee took advantage of his lapse and moved forward with a killing blow to the bridge of the nose, like the one that had finished the first man, but Garth jerked away in time to save his life, however not in time to avoid altogether the blow that slammed into his broken jaw. He stumbled backward and this time he went down.

Coffee swirled around and kicked the gun out of Eddie’s hand.

“ Get off,” Coffee said. The woman jumped off the man’s back, leaving him staggering and stumbling. He crumbled into a sitting position on the sand.

The fight was over.

Coffee grabbed a great breath as lightning knifed across the sky and thunder cracked the dawn. The rain was pouring. The fog was moving in. The early morning moon was blacked out. A dog howled in the distance. The woman was safe and Coffee was going to have to kill these two men. The dog howled again, sending shivers down his spine.

The clouds shifted overhead, allowing enough moonlight to filter through for him to get a good look at her. Her body rippled, she was a runner in beautiful shape, and she was beautiful. The kind of woman a man like John Coffee could never have. Then the clouds covered the moon again and she was covered in the early morning darkness.

“ Okay, lady.” He was still disguising his voice with the throaty whisper. “Go home, please. Forget this ever happened.”

“ Who are you?”

“ The best friend you ever had.” He kept his face turned away from her. “And if you appreciate what I’ve done, you’ll leave. Now.”

“ I don’t even know what you look like.”

“ Now, please,” he said.

“ Thank you.” She turned away and jogged over the dune and into the dark fog.

The dog howled again and he tensed. It was between him and the sea.

The old horror had seen the article and she had been waiting to pick up his scent. She had it now, and she was confident enough to announce herself. She wanted him to know before he died.

He had to get ready. She was sure of the kill or there would have been no warning. Coffee bent low and picked up Garth’s long knife, then he grabbed Eddie and jerked him to his feet.

“ What?” the man said.

“ Keep quiet and you’ll live,” Coffee lied as he moved behind him. He held on to Eddie’s belt with one hand and brought the knife up to his throat with the other. Then he started stepping backwards, bringing Eddie with him, till he was above the fallen Garth. The big man opened his eyes, staring blankly at the night. Coffee reached down with the long knife and slit his throat.