Bryan Smith - The Killing Kind

Chuck glanced down.

Julie was still pinned beneath him, but was trying to wriggle free.

We drowned her.

He grabbed her by the throat and jerked her upright. Her throat was so slender his big hand fit almost all the way around her neck. She clawed at his hand as he tightened his grip, her long nails piercing his flesh and drawing more blood. He was bleeding from so many places. It didn’t matter. All he had to do was stay conscious just long enough to kill these people. He shifted position, turning her so that her back was to him. She gurgled and her clawing grew more frantic. He wrapped his free arm around her head, grasped the back of her head with his palm, and began to twist. The intent was to break her neck. Julie thrashed and tried to kick at him with her feet, but the effort was ineffectual. He continued to twist and apply pressure. He could feel how close the girl’s neck was to giving way. Soon he’d hear the crack of snapping bone and she’d fall limp in his arms. He hated how much he looked forward to it. This was brutal and ugly, something no man should ever have to do. But it was also vengeance. Zoe was dead. This was her killer. She deserved to die.

Something hit his back and clung to him. He felt limbs wrapping around him and something tearing at one of his ears. Missy. Again. He’d made the mistake of turning his back to her. He’d thought she was out cold. Another mistake. He felt Missy’s teeth clamp around his right earlobe and knew he wouldn’t have the luxury of making additional mistakes. He let go of Julie in the same moment Missy’s teeth pierced his flesh. She fell away from him, coughed, and spluttered. Missy gave her head a savage yank and his earlobe came off in her mouth. Chuck screamed and tried to shake her loose as blood poured down his neck. She spat his earlobe out and laughed, sounding like the world champion lunatic of all time.

Julie was on her hands and knees now and was scanning the floor for a weapon.

Rob was also making an effort to get up and join the fight. He managed to get to his feet, wobbled, and dropped to his knees again.

Chuck didn’t have much time. Soon one of them would recover the gun or one of the knives and come at him. And then it would all be over. He would be dead and maybe on his way to some kind of ethereal reunion with Zoe.

And her killers would have gotten away with her murder.

He stopped trying to shake Missy loose. It was a losing battle, the equivalent of running out the clock in a football game. She just had to keep her hands on the ball long enough to help her teammates score the winning touchdown. Her teeth were on him again, digging into his neck. He propelled himself backward and they stumbled over Sean Hewitt’s corpse and the tipped over chair it was strapped to. Then they were falling backward and Missy let go of him an instant before they crashed to the floor.

Chuck rolled onto his back.

Julie was coming at him, was almost upon him. Her face was twisted in a snarl and the hunting knife was in her upraised right hand. Instinct made him raise a hand in defense and the tip of the knife pierced his palm and scraped across bone. He screamed and yanked his hand away.

The knife came with it.

It was still embedded in his flesh.

Julie yelped and leaped at him.

Chuck screamed in pain as he pulled the knife out and tried to slash at her. The blade slid down the length of her upper arm and buried itself in the crook of her elbow. His grip on the knife wasn’t good and it came out of his hand as she twisted away from him. She shook her arm and the knife went flying.

Missy was on her feet again.

Adrenaline and rage could only carry Chuck so far. He was wounded in too many places and was moving slower now. He could almost see that game clock counting down to 0:00. Missy moved far faster than he could and seized the knife.

He got to his feet.

His only option now was to run for it and hope to elude them long enough to get free.

Then Julie hit him from behind and he dropped to his knees.

Missy jabbed him in the stomach with the knife.

Game over.

He fell over and rolled onto his back. Julie was standing over him, a triumphant sneer on her face. She was holding the heavy brass lamp from the end table. She raised it again and slammed it into his face.

Lights out.

“We should finish him.”

“No.”

“Why, for fuck’s sake?”

Missy had her gun again. She didn’t like being without it. She finished filling the cylinder with fresh bullets and snapped it shut. “Because I want him to live.”

Julie was beside herself with rage. Her whole body was shaking in the aftermath of the fight and her close call. “The motherfucker tried to break my fucking neck, Roxie!”

“Don’t call me that anymore. You know my real name.”

Julie gaped at her. “What the fuck!? I don’t give a shit about your fucking name. I wanna kill this guy and I’m gonna do it.”

Missy pointed the gun at her. “No. You’re not.”

Julie stared at the gun. “Are you seriously pointing that thing at me?” Her voice was quieter now, almost subdued. “I thought we were friends.”

Missy laughed. “Yeah. I like you. It’s been fun hanging with you these last few days. But there’s something I never told you about myself.”

Julie scowled. “What?”

“I don’t like to share.”

Missy squeezed the.38’s trigger. A bullet ripped through Julie’s shoulder and a spatter of blood arced through the air behind her. Julie hit the floor and squealed in agony. Missy approached her and stood over her, pointed the gun down at her. Julie looked up at her and blubbered, opened her mouth to plead for her life.

Missy shot her again.

She stopped moving.

“Holy shit. Why did you do that?”

Missy turned and saw that Rob was on his feet again and was at last managing to stay that way. She went to him and gingerly touched his swollen jaw, making him wince. “Does that hurt?”

“Yeah.”

“Stupid question, huh?”

“Yeah. Now how about answering mine?”

Missy shrugged. “No big mystery. Like I told her, I don’t like to share. She should have been satisfied with that one sympathy fuck, but that obviously wasn’t happening. I’m sure you didn’t mind having the little bitch rip your clothes off every few hours. That sort of pisses me off, you want to know the truth.”

Rob’s face reddened. “I…I’m sorry.”

Missy touched his jaw again, this time not quite as gently. “I could make you very sorry.”

He winced again but didn’t look away from her as he said, “I know.”

“You belong to me.”

“I know.”

“And no one else.”

“I know.”

She smiled. “I love you, Rob.”

“I…” Tears welled in his eyes as he struggled to speak. “I…love you…Missy.”

“I know you do, baby.” She stood on her toes and kissed him lightly on the mouth. She took one of his hands and curled his fingers around the butt of the gun. “But it’s time you proved yourself to me.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

She stepped away from him and nodded at the two vacationers still strapped to chairs. “Finish them.”

Rob looked at them. His face twisted. “Oh God…”

Rob stared at the gun in his hand. It didn’t look right there. It didn’t fill him with the sick sense of power he imagined Roxie-Missy-derived from it. He knew what it could do, had witnessed its killing power too many times. It was a dangerous, despicable thing and holding it filled him with loathing. He couldn’t imagine putting it to a human being’s head and pulling the trigger. And yet it was what Missy wanted from him. There didn’t seem to be a way out of it. Despite her profession of love, he suspected there was a strong chance she would kill him if he didn’t do as she wished.