“No.”
“But call it being practical. If you die, then I get a Jeep.”
I laugh out loud at his frank comment. Diane and Mr. Ma seem horrified, but Jeff begins laughing with me. “Alright,” I say through huffs. “Alright.”
◊◊◊
The engine cuts out and clicks along the roadside. We’re a mile from the house and Jeff is visibly shaken.
“Relax,” I say. “The worst that could happen is I come back and you don’t get a Jeep.”
He laughs weakly and avoids my eye.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” I tell him. “Sixty-one minutes pass and you leave. Got me? Don’t hang around. Don’t try to come find me. Don’t try to be a hero. If I don’t come back in an hour you get back to the house and lay low. Hide the Jeep. He wants it back, and he won’t be happy with the person who has it. Alright?”
Jeff nods and keeps his eyes on his feet.
“Thanks for last night. The food. And the bed. It was nice.”
“You are welcome to stay with us as long as you need, of course,” he says. “You’re a… An inspiration to a lot of us.”
That caught me off guard.
“Most of us are just brave enough to keep our heads down, while you run around and face our nightmares for us. You’re the uhh… The peacekeeper to most of us.”
“I’m the Sheriff,” I suggest.
“Yeah,” he replies with a chuckle. “You’re the Sheriff.”
“Sounds like I still have a lot to do then, huh?”
“Yeah,” Jeff replies, finally looking up at me. “So come back safe, okay?”
“I’ll do my best.”
With that, I slid out of the driver seat and walked off to meet death.
◊◊◊
Kyle watched his enemy climb out of the Jeep.
He watched him try and be sneaky by cutting into the trees.
But it was too late.
He was already caught.
Kyle will take his prey, claim his Jeep, and kill the family that harbored him.
No one defies the lion.
No one defies the king.
◊◊◊
I work quickly through the trees, hoping that I can find a route that will not run me straight into Kyle but knowing that no matter what I did I was playing right into his hands. Knife at my belt, pistol in my hand, I might as well have marched in weaponless for as certain as I felt that I was about to die.
“We all go sometime,” I puffed. A song I loved to sing when the world was alive and full of light came back to me at that moment. “One of these days,” I sang, “your heart will stop, and play its final beat.”
I rounded a stand of trees and peered across a long lawn. The barrier had been repaired, and the house looked fortified. At least, it looked formidable. I looked for the low spot in the barrier and decided against it.
“No,” I whispered to myself. “It’s all a trap. Don’t make it too easy for him.”
I scanned further down and spotted a nook I might be able to crawl under and I make a dash for it before logic convinces me of my error. I hit the grass and slide into the base of the barrier. I wiggle and crawl on my belly, sliding my way past pallets and pipes and a car door. When I look up and see the face of a corpse, curled hideously and with a gaping hole in its forehead, I knew I was screwed.
I came out of the barrier, stood calmly, dusted my pants, and strolled to the house.
Fuck him. I’m dead anyway.
I strolled right up to the front door and kicked it hard. The handle fell away clattering and the busted door fell open.
“Drop the gun,” ordered a voice behind me.
I paused and a shot rang in my ears.
“Drop. The. Gun.”
I extended my arm and released the pistol. It clacked on the front porch and all fell silent.
“The knife?”
I drew the blade and dropped it by the pistol.
“And now, if you wouldn’t mind turning about?”
Slowly I spun and for the first time looked Kyle in the face.
He was bearded, short, and his hair was fading from the top of his head. Kyle was stocky in the way that it was hard to tell if he was fat or just bulky. His eyes were cool and collected, though the smile on his face was disconcerting.
Not as disconcerting as the revolver pointed at me, mind you, but still rather distressing.
“And if you wouldn’t mind kicking those my way, hmm?”
I give a genteel nod and drag my foot into the pistol, and then into the knife. “It’s nice to meet you, Kyle.”
“Pleasure,” he answers. “And you are?”
“Kyle Moore.”
“Well,” he says, clearly entertained by the irony, “it’s nice to meet you as well, Kyle, though I must say this has developed into a rather disappointing display on your part.”
“Really?”
“I was so looking forward to more of a fight. I mean, when got up and strolled across the grass I thought, ‘This man. This man here is a fighter. Another lion.’ You can imagine how disappointing this is for me to beat you so quickly.”
“It must be terrible for you,” I reply sarcastically.
“It is,” he answers.
“But truthfully,” I say, “I don’t care. You’re a monster.”
“Oh?”
“A killer.”
“You should talk.”
“A rapist.”
Kyle shrugs and hums his response to me.
“Why?” I ask.
“Why not?” he replies.
“Because… Because those are people out there. People just trying to survive. Trying to make it through ‘til tomorrow, and you’re killing them.”
“To hell with them,” he answers coolly. “Me? I’m a lion. I’m the King of Cheney. It’s mine to take. But you wouldn’t understand.”
“Not really.”
“You wouldn’t understand because though killer you may be, you do it out of some sick sense of right. Me? I do it because it is my right.” His smile becomes disgusting. “The world belongs to the killers. The strong. It belongs to those who willing to reach out and claim it. You? You had your chance. You could have taken this whole town and you let it go.”
“You make
