Jason Frost - The Warlord

"Lucky wife," Annie said. "Lucky family."

An angry frown flickered across Fallows' face and Annie knew she'd stabbed a sensitive area.

He forced his smile back in place, but it hung crookedly on his face like a tilted crescent of moon. "Perhaps you're right, Ms. Ravensmith. I was not so fortunate as Eric. He was the best soldier I'd ever had serve under me. Unorthodox, but damn good. I hoped to convince him to stay in the service, but he refused my friendship. That in itself was a declaration of war. We each won a battle, and each of us bears the scars of the conflict. But now it's time to end it, for a winner to emerge. Obviously, that's why you're here. I would put him at no more than a day away from us right now."

Annie's heart pulsed at the thought, both with fear for him and hope for herself and Timmy.

"Dad will tear you to pieces," Timmy said, forcing his voice as low and manly as he could.

"Certainly he'll try, son. But since I know that, I have the advantage. And I have a little drama set up for him that, well, let's keep it a surprise." Fallows threw his knife onto the cot and stood up. "In the meantime, we have a little drama all our own to play out right here. We'll start with you, Ms. Ravensmith. Take off your clothes."

Annie stepped back. "What for?"

"You didn't think I'd be content just with killing Eric, did you? That would leave me without a third act. No, I want something more devilish, more painful than death, though that too will be a part of it. I want to take what's important away from him, strip him of everything precious. Which reminds me, I have some painful news for you."

Somehow Annie knew what he would say and her hands flew to her mouth as if that would prevent her hearing it. "Jenny?"

"Afraid so," he shook his head sadly. "Cruz here slit her throat as neatly as Sweeny Todd. I tried to stop him, but-" he shrugged "-he has a mind of his own."

Annie fell to her knees convulsing with sobs, her stomach heaving vomit onto the ground. "No, you're lying!" she screamed.

"Not at all. Dr. Epson was most cooperative with information. Hospital. Bottom floor of library. Room at the back. She's dead all right, dead as a… What's an appropriate metaphor here, Cruz?"

Cruz stared, licked his lips.

"Sorry, Ms. Ravensmith, but Cruz can't think of one either, We'll have to settle for that old standby, dead as a doornail."

Suddenly Timmy lunged across the room for the knife on the cot. He wrapped his hands around the handle and turned toward Fallows.

'Timmy, no!" Annie warned.

"I'll kill you," Timmy said, choking down his own tears. "I'll kill you, you asshole."

Cruz watched impassively, making no move to interfere.

"Kill me?" Fallows said, looking hurt, then smiling. His pale eyes seemed to gather color for the first time. He didn't budge from where he stood, just waited. The gun on his belt remained snapped into its holster.

"Give me the knife, Timmy," Annie pleaded, holding out her hand.

"He killed Jenny, Mom! He wants to kill Dad!"

"I know. But I don't want you killed too. Give me the knife. Dad will get us out of here. Believe that."

Timmy wavered, his jaw clenched in an expression that Annie recognized from Eric. It both frightened her and comforted her at the same time. Reluctantly, Timmy handed the knife to his mother.

"Ms. Ravensmith?" Fallows said, holding out his hand.

Annie tossed the knife to him, which he caught neatly around the handle.

"You see how military strategy and theatre are so closely related? The knife was merely a prop, and each of you played your part as predictably as if it had been written for you by me. Your mistake, Ms. Ravensmith, though made out of the best of motives, was to not at least let the boy try to kill me. He'll remember that. After awhile he'll blow it up in his mind until he thinks he might actually have had a chance. And then he'll blame you for taking that chance away."

"No, I won't!" Timmy hollered.

Fallows laughed. "Yes, you will. The mind is a very tricky thing, it does what it wants sometimes. And by the time I'm through with both of you, you're going to loathe your mother and blame your father."

"Why?" Annie said hoarsely. "Why?"

Fallows face was icy when he answered. The pale eyes gone white again, the long V of his face accented in the filtered light of the tent. His white hair bristled like snowy brush. "Have you forgotten my earlier soliloquy? No wife, no family. 'Lucky wife,' I believe was your line. Probably true. But every man wants to pass along what he's learned, if for no other reason than to be remembered. Eric was my first choice, a kind of younger brother. He refused. Worse, he had me locked away during the years I might have raised my own family. Now I want my own son. I'm too old to start from scratch. By the time he's old enough to do anything, I'll be near sixty."

"God, no!" Annie gasped. "Please, no."

"I'm impressed. You catch on fast. Sorry, but I'm afraid so. Since it's too late for me to raise my own son, I've decided to raise yours. I'll leach him everything I know, just like I taught Eric. Only this time he's young enough to do what I tell him."

"No, I won't," Timmy said. "I'll kill you the first chance I get. I swear it."

"No, you won't, son. I've brainwashed men into killing their own brothers. After awhile, I can make anybody do anything. By the time I'm through with you, you'll kill anybody who says a word against me. Even your mother and father. You see, it's not enough to just kill Eric, I want to destroy his immortality. Whatever essence a father passes on to his son." He turned to Annie, grinned. "Don't you want to beg for him?"

Annie's gaze was stony, her grief petrified by determination. "No, I won't beg." She looked at Timmy. "Timothy, you're enough like your father to know what kind of man this is. I'm counting on you to be enough like your father to resist, not physically, but inside. No matter what he does to me, no matter what he tells you. Understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Bravo," Fallows applauded. "Joan of Arc, Act III? Now comes the first scene, Ms. Ravensmith. Humiliation. You see, by physically humiliating you, you lose stature in your son's eyes. You're no longer Mother, Goddess of Love, you're just another human being. Now, take off your clothes. All of them."

"Mom," Timmy said, starting toward Fallows.

"You just stand there, Timothy," Annie said as she began removing her clothing. "We have to do anything to survive, to keep alive until your father comes." She unfastened her bra, shrugged it off, stepped out of her panties.

"Nice," Fallows nodded. "A little skinnier than I like, but you'll do. Won't she, Tim? Ever been laid, Tim? Yeah, I bet you've been diddling the little girls plenty, right? Bet they've got nothing on your mom, though. I mean, that's a woman's body. What do you think?"

Timmy stared at his feet, refusing to look up.

"Modest boy you've got, Ms. Ravensmith." Fallows unsnapped his holster, pulled the Walther P.38 out. He walked over to Annie and stood in front of her, touching the cold barrel to her nipples. The nipples hardened from the cold. Fallows traced her ribs with the barrel, across her stomach, along her hips, into her pubic hair. He stared into her defiant eyes while stirring the gun through her hairs. Annie didn't recoil, didn't budge. She stared back. "You like this don't you? Say yes."

When she didn't respond, he shoved the barrel roughly between her legs.

"Say yes," he repeated. "Say, 'Yes, I love it.' "

"Yes, I love it." Her voice was flat and mechanical.

"Good. Now say, 'Screw me with it.' "

"No."

Fallows smiled. "Cruz." Cruz took a couple steps forward. "Break something on the kid. Something small."

Before Annie could protest, Cruz had grabbed Timmy's hand and snapped the little finger back until it made a sickening crack. Timmy howled with pain for a moment, then forced himself to be quiet, blinking away the tears and staring at the floor.