Mars snapped his fingers. ?Hey! Remember me? I say who dies or not, okay? Maybe you give me this thing, and if it?s good, I let you live.?
?How do we know you won?t double-cross us?? Mike said.
Mars circled the table, got in Mike?s face, blew smoke in his eyes. ?What you think?s going to happen? I hold all the cards here. I should kill you, then I can take my own sweet time ripping this cabin apart and I find the package anyway.?
They held each other?s gaze for long seconds. Mars puffed his cigar.
When Mars spoke next, his voice was low and calm and slow. ?Now tell me where this package is. If you?re fucking with me, if this is some kind of trick, it won?t work. I?ll cut off your balls and shove them down your throat. Now where is it??
Mike hesitated. Then, very deliberately, he shifted his gaze from Mars?s eyes to the overturned bowl on the table. Then he looked back at Mars.
Mars followed Mike?s line of vision to the table, noticed the big upside-down bowl in the center. He reached for the bowl. ?What? Under here??
Mike tensed. This was it.
When Mars flipped over the bowl, the tarantula scuttled directly at him, hairy legs flailing like a nightmare.
Mars?s scream was high-pitched and girlish; he lurched backward, rocked on his feet, unbalanced.
Mike leapt out of his chair, upended the table toward Mars. Dishes flew, clattered on the floor. Mike was already moving, fists flying toward the purple Hispanic. He was appalled at how slow and heavy he felt. He swung for Mars?s chin, had to keep the bad eye closed so he could aim.
Mars had recovered, swatted the punch away and kicked Mike in the balls. Mike sucked air, tried to keep his feet but ended up on his knees. He couldn?t get his breath. He felt like he was going to throw up, the ache from his balls spreading through his whole body.
Mars grabbed the revolver from his waistband, aimed it at Mike?s face.
The axe handle connected hard with Mars?s wrist. Mars yelled and dropped the pistol. It clattered across the wooden floor.
Linda had swept up the axe handle and was on Mars with a vengeance, eyes wide and wild, grunting with each swing. She landed another blow across Mars?s back. She swung it the other way and caught Mars full in the stomach. His eyes bulged. He made a fish face, sucking for air.
Mars looked panicked now. He glanced around him for an escape route. Linda pressed the attack, swung the handle at Mars?s jaw. His head spun around. Blood and gold teeth flew. Mars?s eyes rolled up and he stumbled, collapsed against a wall.
Mike still gulped for air, tried to regain his feet.
Linda stood over Mars, lifted the axe handle high, her eyes wild.
Mars tried to lift his head, his legs trembling.
She brought the axe handle down and hit the back of Mars?s head with a sharp crack. ?Cocksucker! Son of a bitch. Burn me with a cigar, you motherfucker.? The axe handle lifted and fell three more times, bashing the back of Mars?s head until it was bloody. Her hands trembled. She dropped the axe handle, her hands going to her gasping mouth.
?Linda.?
She looked at Mike, went to him, put her arms around his shoulders. ?Are you okay??
?The spider,? he said. ?Where?s the damn spider??
She found it creeping around one of the chair legs, smashed it with her shoe. It oozed guts and goo.
Linda helped Mike into a chair. He still bent over from his aching balls, but he managed to meet her eyes. ?What about you? You okay??
She looked at Mars. He lay in ruin, the back of his bald head sticky with blood. ?I did that. Jesus.?
