Theresa Weir - Bad Karma

He was taking them to a place where no one would find them.

From behind, Campbell barked out directions until they finally worked their way down an embankment.

Cleo stopped and Daniel ran into her.

Yards away, an open well protruded from the ground, the low walls lined with stone, the stones covered with years of moss. No one would find them there.

“I’m going to rush him again,” Daniel whispered, his lips barely moving. “When I do, I want you to run like hell and don’t look back.”

“He’ll kill you.”

“He’s going to kill us both anyway. At least you’ll have a chance.”

“I’ll rush him,” she whispered back. “ You run.”

He gave her a crooked smile that said, Come on. You know that won’t work.

“I came across this the other day when I was looking for a good place to hide a body,” Campbell said. “It’s deep. Toss a pebble down there. Takes forever to hit bottom.”

When nobody moved, he repeated his command. Cleo found a small rock and dropped it in the well. She never heard it hit.

She didn’t see a way out. Daniel’s idea of rushing Campbell was maybe the only option, and that didn’t seem promising. She was so weak, she could hardly stand, let alone outrun someone. She looked at Daniel, silently begging him not to try it. There had to be another way.

He shook his head. No other way, his eyes said. The regret was there again. And she knew it had nothing to do with Campbell, nothing to do with what was happening now.

It’s okay. You didn’t mean to hurt me.

“These old farms are notorious for abandoned wells like this,” Campbell said. “I should adapt that to my rural renewal plan. Really, they should all be sealed so no one can fall in one, don’t you think?” His mood had improved now that everything was under control and going his way. “Both of you move a little closer,” he instructed, like someone preparing to take a snapshot rather than perform an execution.

“Don’t I get a last cigarette?” Daniel asked.

“Too much of a cliché. Besides,” Campbell looking above his head past the canopy of green, “it’ll be getting dark soon.” He pulled back the gun hammer. “Who wants to be first? You?” He pointed the weapon at Daniel. “Or you?” The gun shifted slightly until it was aimed at Cleo.

“Me.” They spoke in unison.

Campbell laughed.

He was still laughing when a breeze kicked up from somewhere, somehow penetrating the thick foliage. Campbell tipped his head slightly, thinking he heard something.

A little kid.

There it was. A little kid, chanting one of those verses.

“Old lady, old lady, turn around.

Old lady, old lady, touch the ground.”

Campbell turned his head, his eyes scanning the hillside, trying to find where the voice was coming from. There! A flash of red. Someone dashing from one tree to the next.

“Not last night, but the night before,

Twenty-four robbers came knocking at the door,

I went downstairs to let them in,

They hit me over the head with a rolling pin.”

“Hey!” Campbell shouted, his eyes straining for another flash of red, his ears intent upon the high-pitched voice. “Hey, kid! Come out of there!”

Daniel lunged. “Run!” he shouted to Cleo as the momentum of his attack sent both men to the ground. He tried to wrench the gun from Campbell ’s grip, surprised at the man’s strength. They rolled, grunting, evenly matched. Daniel didn’t need to win. He just needed to give Cleo a chance to get away.

Daniel’s surge of strength was quickly fading.

Campbell jabbed him in the shoulder. Daniel gasped, almost letting go of the wrist that held the gun. In a last-ditch effort, he pounded Campbell ’s arm against a stone that marked the perimeter of the well.

The gun clattered. Daniel shoved. They rolled again, leaving the gun behind. The absence of the weapon left Campbell ’s hand free. He used it to pummel Daniel’s wounded shoulder. Pain flashed red and black. Campbell struck him until Daniel tasted blood, until the ground beneath him slanted, the trees above spun. Had it been enough time? Enough time for Cleo to get away?

A voice cut through the haze and pain. Cleo’s voice. “Get away from him.”

Oh, shit. Why didn’t you run? Daniel held his breath, waiting to feel another punch that didn’t come. The grip on his shirt loosened until he was released completely. Daniel staggered and fell, a hand to his shoulder. He blinked through a haze of pain to see Cleo standing with her legs braced apart, the revolver in her hands.

“Get up.”

Stupefied, Daniel could only watch as Campbell shoved himself to his feet.

“You won’t shoot me,” Campbell said.

“You don’t know me very well.”

She was right, Daniel thought. She’d waste the guy in a second. Then he had another thought. I’m in love.

Campbell wiped at a cut on the side of his face. Daniel was bleeding from his nose, his mouth, and his side-and Campbell had gotten off with a little cut.

“Listen, Cleo,” Campbell said. “I wasn’t really going to shoot you. You know that, don’t you?” He started to move toward her.

“Back!”

The gun wavered. In fact, it was wobbling all over the place. And then Daniel noticed that her whole body was trembling.

“Get back!” she repeated.

Daniel rolled to his knees. Then he went about the extremely unpleasant task of shoving himself to his feet.

Campbell stopped, hands up, palms out. “Why don’t we just forget about this?” He began to retreat. “I’ll go my way, you go yours. What do you say?”

Cleo’s mouth moved, but no words came out. Daniel followed the direction of her gaze.

“Stop!” Cleo shouted.

Campbell smiled.

“Stop! ” she repeated. “The well!”

You could see it on his face. The exact moment she said the word well was the exact moment Campbell realized his mistake. Comprehension was followed by dismay. Then he just disappeared.

Cleo dropped the gun while Daniel fell to his knees and shouted Campbell ’s name.

At Daniel’s side, Cleo grabbed his arm and tried to urge him away from the edge. “There’s nothing we can do.” If the stones came lose, he would follow Campbell into that dark grave.

Once more, Daniel tried to get a response from the well, then he rolled to a sitting position, an elbow on his bent knee, his hand covering his face.

“We have to go,” Cleo said. “Before it gets dark.”

He lifted his head and stared wearily at her. “It’s true, what he said about those people. Those kids and their mother.”

“Do you think you’re God? Do you think you can control everything around you? Bad things happen. That’s the way it is.” A harsh truth perhaps, but the truth all the same. “We have to go.”

He sat there a moment longer, just looking at her.

“Come on.” She helped him to his feet then picked up the gun.

Daniel extended his bloodstained hand and she gave him the weapon. With familiarity, he removed the cartridge, pocketed it, then shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans.

He might not have wanted her help, but she helped him anyway. She looped one arm around his waist, and together they headed up the hillside, back the way they’d come.

Her legs no longer shook, and she moved with purpose. They walked, the pressure against her shoulder increasing. She heard his labored breathing.

“Not much farther,” she said, hitching her shoulder against him, tightening her grip around his waist, hoping he wouldn’t slide to the ground.

“You go,” he said, his voice a breathless rasp. “Bring somebody back.”