“Trick or treat, bitch. You got tricked, now I get the treat.”
She watched as he reached into the left pocket of the jacket and produced a single bullet. He held it in front of him in the palm of his hand. “Had a feeling you might try to cheat me, so I took out some insurance. You’re going to have to work harder to make this kill.”
Natalie saw his right hand come up slow. She knew he was reaching for the barrel of the Colt. She jerked the pistol away and swung for his head. He twisted, raised his arm and blocked the blow. The weight of the gun ripped it from her hand and, for a moment it seemed suspended in air, but then it slammed into to the dirt floor and slid to a stop near Rudy’s feet.
Rudy stretched his leg and tried to kick it toward Natalie, but his leg wasn’t long enough. The revolver lay inches away. Tony dove fast and stretched his hand out for it. Rudy swung his foot up and hooked Tony’s arm. The kick spun Tony around. He fell hard on his side and landed on the gun.
Natalie realized the silver barreled menace was back under Tony’s control. She kicked him in the low back with the toe of her boot. He rolled with the bullet still clutched in his left hand, and grabbed for her leg with his right. She pulled it away just in time and his hand flailed passed her calf. With his chest exposed, she drove a spiked heel into his abdomen and felt gratified as a shriek escaped his lips.
She realized that Tony would come up with the gun, so she ran toward the back of the corral, and then turned to gauge what he would do next.
Tony sat up and picked up the Colt. Standing, he turned toward Rudy and with a swift kick, planted the heel of his shoe in Rudy’s face.
“Don’t screw with me. Your life is hanging by a thread already.”
He loaded the single slug into the chamber, slammed the cylinders closed and raised his eyes. Across the corral, Natalie stood like a trapped cat trying to judge which direction to run, he chided, “Here pussy, pussy, time for my treat.”
As Tony started to walk toward her, Natalie took a step back and assessed escape routes. The corral stood in the corner of the barn, so behind her and to the right, the walls offered no way out. If she continued backward, she would further box herself in. Tony, on the other side of the small fire, blocked any opening in the corral’s fence. This left one path. She had to go over the top rail. She bolted to the left and, after the first step, her foot hit something in the darkness. It slammed into her boot-covered shin.
Natalie stopped. She looked up as Tony shifted on an interception path. The pistol hung from his right hand like a useless appendage.
She reached down to free her foot from whatever had entrapped it and recognized the head of a handle-less steel dirt rake like her dad used on the farm. She wrapped the fingers of her left hand around it. Prepared to run, she bent her knees and swayed side to side as if Tony was the pitcher and she was about to steal second base. Tony continued to approach. She waited until he was five feet away and then faked a run to the right.
Tony matched her move to his left and drew a step closer.
Natalie brought the rake up with a jerk and swung it at him. He twisted away to this left. Even without much force, the head of the rake made contact with Tony’s right arm. He lurched backwards, stumbled over his feet and fell into the fire. Coals and flaming shards scattered in all directions.
Natalie turned back toward the fence. In two steps she reached it. As she grabbed the top-rail, a shriek pulled her attention away from escape to the boy she tied to the post just a few feet away.
“Natalie, Tony untie me!”
Natalie stood aghast with her fingers clutched around the plank and stared toward Rudy. Some of the embers had landed in the hay where he sat.
“Burn in Hell,” Tony said as he got back to his feet. He tucked the gun into his belt.
Natalie stepped on the first plank with her left foot. Years of neglect had weakened the support and it cracked under her weight. She thrust her right foot to the next slat before it gave way and swung her left leg over the top in one fluid movement. The action shifted her right foot. It slipped off the board and brought her down on the top rail hard on her crotch. The pain shot through her, and a vivid memory of the pistol whip Tony had given her on her pubic bone in the warehouse replayed. She didn’t have time to cower or flinch. She employed the ache to stoke her mental strength. Pain meant she was alive and could still fight back. Tony had said, “You going to have to work harder to make this kill,” and she meant to do just that.
_____
©
Jearl Rugh 2012
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Rights Reserved
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