Bryan Smith - The Killing Kind

Roxie glanced over her shoulder at Rob. “Look at this fuck, Rob. All that fucking blubber. It’s disgusting, right?”

“I…guess.”

Roxie snorted and turned her attention back to Greg, whose already plodding pace was slowing by the minute. “Damn right it is. We should call Sea World, let them know one of their whales escaped. Hey, Greg. How did you get so far inland? You some kind of amphibian mutant humpback piece of shit?”

Greg didn’t say anything, just kept shuffling forward.

Roxie laughed.

The mocking cruelty disturbed Rob, but it didn’t surprise him. This was an absolutely unrepentant, cold-blooded killer. Cruelty was deeply ingrained in her nature. Greg was going to die. No doubt about it. Still, he should be allowed some small measure of dignity. Rob briefly considered voicing this opinion and immediately thought better of it. It wouldn’t help Greg. And it might earn him a world of grief in the bargain. So he kept his mouth shut and kept walking, did his best to tune out her relentless barrage of belittling insults.

Sweat dampened the fabric of his shirt beneath the armpits. Rob wasn’t sure how long they’d been out here or how far they’d come. Long enough to work up a sweat, anyway. A glance over his shoulder confirmed they’d come far enough to lose all sight of the road and the cars. They were surrounded by wilderness. It made him feel claustrophobic, which was an odd thing to feel in the “great outdoors.” They kept trudging forward. Another sweat stain spread across the back of his shirt, causing the fabric to adhere to his flesh. Then, just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, they arrived at a place where there was a bit more space between the tightly bunched trees, a sort of miniclearing.

“You can stop now, whale boy.”

Greg was barely moving by this point. Coming to a halt required minimal effort. He stopped in his tracks and stared up at a tree directly ahead of him. Dim, unintelligible words emerged from his mouth.

Roxie giggled. “He’s praying.“

Rob thought, Who wouldn’t?

Roxie had been holding the gun down by her side. She lifted it now and aimed it squarely at the man’s back. Rob hoped she’d just pull the trigger and be done with it rather than draw it out any longer.

He should have known better.

“Turn around, fucker.” Roxie wasn’t giggling now. Her voice was hard and cold again. “Now, bitch! I don’t mean later today or tomorrow. TURN THE FUCK AROUND RIGHT FUCKING NOW!”

Greg turned around and stared at the ground. His mouth was still moving, rapidly, as he hurried to share his last conscious thoughts with God.

“Knock that shit off and look at me, Greg.”

The use of his actual name in place of an epithet apparently got his attention. Greg opened his eyes and stared right at her. His eyes were wet. A snot bubble swelled from one nostril and popped.

Roxie smiled. “Good boy. Now get on your knees.”

There was no fight at all left in this man. He dropped slowly to his knees with a pained grunt and stared up at her.

Roxie stepped toward him and placed the barrel of the gun against his forehead. “Keep your eyes open, Greg. Do it or I’ll make this worse, I promise. You believe me, don’t you?”

Greg kept his eyes open and replied with a very slight nod.

Roxie smiled again. “Good. I’ve got a question for you, Greg. You don’t really want to die today, do you?”

Confusion creased Greg’s brow, but he managed a small shake of his head.

Roxie chuckled. “Didn’t think so. I mean, whales are dumb animals, but even whales want to live, right?” Another chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’m just fucking with you. Don’t expect a real answer to that.”

She stepped away from Greg and aimed the.38 at Rob’s belly. “I want you on your knees too, Rob. Right next to the whale.”

Rob’s mouth came open. He just stared at her for a moment. Unable to speak. Unable even to form a single coherent thought. He searched her face for any hint of mirth, but there was nothing. He’d never seen a face so pretty look so hard. Her beauty was a mask. In that moment he could clearly see the ugliness lurking beneath. His eyes watered. Not so many hours ago he’d made love to this woman, had shared with her an experience more intense than he could ever hope to share with another human being. He couldn’t fathom how the woman he’d shared that with now apparently intended to kill him. Which made him an even bigger idiot than he’d begun to suspect. He knew what she was. Had known all along.

So this shouldn’t come as a surprise.

Shouldn’t feel like a betrayal.

But it did. It did.

Oh God…

She thumbed back the.38’s hammer. “I’m not asking again, Robin. On your knees next to the whale. Right now.”

He sniffled and moved past her. She didn’t back away to give him more room, her smirk telling him she knew he lacked the courage to make a lunge for the gun. He dropped to his knees next to Greg and stared up at her. “Why?”

She pressed the gun’s barrel against his forehead. Her smug expression stung him. “Why do you think, Robin? To keep things interesting. I get bored easy. Besides, maybe you still have a chance.”

Rob’s heart beat a rapid, desperate rhythm against his chest wall. She was playing some kind of game here, indulging in another sadistic exercise, but he couldn’t figure out what the point was. Probably there wasn’t one. Not beyond drawing out the agony of anticipation anyway. He figured she’d meant to do this all along. Probably did this kind of thing all the time. Grabbed some guy and had a bit of fun with him. Maybe made him feel they had some kind of deeper connection, even in the face of so much insanity. And she would kill the poor fuck every time. He was just what he’d always been-the latest in a long line of marks and suckers.

She pushed the gun harder against his forehead. “Did you hear me, Robin? I said you still have a chance. What do you think of that?”

“I don’t believe it. You’re just fucking with me, like always.”

She smiled. “That’s where you’re wrong, baby. I’m gonna play a quick little game. Loser gets to eat a bullet. Winner gets to walk away from here with me. Close your eyes, bitches.”

Rob closed his eyes. He knew the other man had done the same. There was no defying Roxie and they both knew it. Had no choice but to accept it. Rob began his own recitation of prayers. But he kept his mouth shut, kept it internal. He didn’t want Roxie to hear. He prayed for his uncle and other close relatives. He prayed for Lindsey and Charlene. Prayed for other close friends. But he didn’t bother asking God for forgiveness. He knew he didn’t deserve it.

The gun came away from his head.

What’s she doing?

The need to know was almost overpowering, but his fear of her was even greater. He kept his eyes shut, finished his prayers, and strove to keep his mind blank. He wanted to enter a meditative state. A gray, formless place. Retreat mentally and just let it happen.

“Eeny.”

He felt the gun barrel against his forehead again.

And Roxie giggled. “Meeny.”

The gun moved away from him. “Miny.”

It came back. “Moe.”

Away again. “My.”

Back. “Mother”

Away. “Told.”

And on it went, back and forth, until the barrel grazed his forehead again on the last syllable. “It.” Another giggle. “So, so sorry, Robin.”

Greg heaved a big breath next to him. “Oh, thank God. Thank you, God.”

Rob squeezed his eyes as tightly shut as he could get them and found he was willing to send out a last-ditch prayer or two after all. He tensed, waiting for the explosion that would blow his head apart and send blood and brain matter flying across the forest floor. He was shaking so hard he barely noticed when the gun barrel moved from his forehead.