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.
'He's going to remember that it was because of you his finger is broken,' Fallows said. 'Right now he blames me and maybe even Cruz. But in a day or two, he'll blame you for not speaking up fast enough.' He lifted the gun and pointed it in Annie's face. 'Suck it,' he said.
Annie hesitated, saw Cruz reach for Timmy, and took the barrel in her mouth. She closed her eyes, tried to think of other things, picture Eric coming for her. She saw the look of determination on his face, saw him clawing over rocks and hills. He was calling her name now, shouting it, listening for an answer. She saw his face so clearly, she was surprised he couldn't see her. That tight, grim expression that always made her feel safe.
Fallows pul!ed the hammer back, the threatening click made her open her eyes.
'Parting is such sweet sorrow,' he said and pulled the trigger.
The hammer struck the empty chamber with a deafening metallic crack. Annie jerked back at the sound so suddenly the sight on the end of the barrel tore the roof of her mouth. Blood seeped over her lips.
'You son of a bitch,' she hissed, shaken.
'You don't know the half of it, Ms. Ravensmith. This was just the first scene. There's much more in store for you. And it gets worse and worse.' He glanced over at Cruz. 'Get them out of here.'
Cruz brushed open the tent flap, snapped his fingers at someone, and young Foxworth came running. When he saw Annie naked, his eyes widened. He licked his lips.
'Take them back,' Cruz said.
Annie stooped down to gather her clothes. Fallows stomped his foot on them.
'You won't he needing these.'
Immediately, Timmy took off his shirt and handed it to Annie. She smiled at him and slipped it on. The tail barely covered her.
'Move it, Foxworth,' Fallows snapped, and the soldier hurriedly ushered Annie and Timmy out of the tent.
When they were gone, Fallows sat back on the cot. 'It's going well, eh, Cruz?'
Cruz shrugged. 'It's not my game.'
'But you've liked your part in it so far, haven't you?'
'Listen, Fallows, you're a fucking military genius. Everybody knows that. Maybe all that theatre shit helped you, I don't know and I don't care. As long as you make the plans and they work, and everybody gets what they want, I'll follow orders. It don't bother me to kill anymore than it bothers you.' Cruz crossed the tent in two steps, grabbed Fallows by the arm. The fingers closed around Fallows' flesh like a mechanical claw. Fallows felt the bite against his muscles, but he showed no reaction. 'I don't mind playing the stupid ox in your little dramas, Fallows. You can say anything about me you want, I could give a shit.' He wagged a warning finger. 'Just don't you start believing it.' He released Fallows' arm and strolled out of the tent, closing the flap behind him.
Fallows shook his arm and laughed. How predictable everyone was, even Cruz. The poor bastard didn't realize that Fallows could have killed him a hundred times over as he stood there wagging his sausage-sized finger in his face. But that wasn't part of the plan. Every player has his part-Eric, Annie, Timmy, even Cruz. And when the time was right, each would act accordingly, as Fallows knew they must. As he had planned.
But first, Annie. Fallows shook his head happily, imagining Eric's face when he finally found her, what was left of her. He won't know whether to kiss her-or kill her.
22.
