to you. If you plan on shooting me no matter what, they might as well shoot you right now.”
She looks at the man. He’s large with broad shoulders. The woman is tall and lanky. They’re both wearing black pants and black jackets and holding black handguns.
“How about you all fire on the count of three?” Claudia says. “I might possibly die, depending on how good a shot you are, Kyle, but considering the dark and your lack of experience with a real gun, and the fact that both of my associates are not only doctors, but skilled marksmen, I think my odds are much better than yours. Or you could put the gun down. We could 3 4 2
Copyright © 2015 by Debra Dockter.
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have a nice conversation. It doesn’t have to be this way, you know. I can still save you, Kyle.”
I laugh. “Don’t you remember that your brother made me intelligent? Okay, sure. I wasn’t smart enough to see through you at first, but then sociopaths have reputations for being charming and cunning. Matt’s smart, and he bought it, so I guess I shouldn’t feel too bad. Just out of curiosity”—I keep the gun trained on her—“did you really have any intention of helping him? Can you seriously grow him a new penis? Give him testicles? Or were you just saying what he wanted to hear so you could use him?”
She opens the passenger door, and Matt falls onto the dirt road. With the door open, I can see her face even better. She’s smiling as she looks down at his unconscious body.
“I just love desperation,” she says. “I love how it turns people into putty that you can mold into anything you like. You and your parents were willing to have your body frozen. Frozen! This sorry excuse for a person turned on his friend like Ju-das delivering Christ.” She kicks Matt, not hard, but she kicks him. “And for what? For the pleasure of having sex again, the ability to spawn children? Do you think I would really waste my time on such pursuits?”
I can’t see where Matt’s lying on the other side of the car, but I know she’s wrong about him, at least partly. It’s about being normal, about feeling whole. It’s about wanting to love someone with every part of your being and about getting back what was so unfairly taken away.
3 4 3
Copyright © 2015 by Debra Dockter.
FOR REVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY--NOT FOR SALE
He’s desperate, and she took advantage of him. It’s because of Claudia Bartholomew that Rosemary is dead.
“One.”
I start the countdown, because as much as I want to live, I know I can’t, not as long as she’s alive.
“Two.”
Suddenly Henry’s head and gun turn toward Claudia. I see a flash from the woman’s gun, and I duck without thinking.
There’s a searing pain in my shoulder. I prop myself up against the car and try to look through the still-open driver’s door to where Claudia was standing. I can’t see anything. I climb into the front seat. I want to grip the gun with both hands, but my left arm won’t move, so I hold it as tightly as I can with my right. I lie flat on my stomach, trying to keep my head down as more shots fly. I scoot forward on the seat, and then I see Matt.
He’s still on the road, but he’s not lying unconscious anymore.
His body is straddling Claudia’s, his fingers wrapped around her neck. Her gloved hands are pulling at his arms, but it’s no use. He’s choking the life out of her, strangling her so thoroughly, his arms are shaking with the effort. Her hands keep pulling at his arms, then they start reaching for his face, trying to gouge at his eyes. She keeps reaching, her back arching with the effort, and then something snaps. Her arms fall to her sides.
Matt moves back, away from her body. He stares at her for a moment, then he looks up at me. Tears are streaming down his face. Then a bullet pierces his forehead, and I start firing.
3 4 4
Copyright © 2015 by Debra Dockter.
FOR REVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY--NOT FOR SALE
omeday, I want to wake up in my own bed. It’s not a lot to ask. I don’t need to be rich or famous. I just want my head to rest against my own pillow. I want to open my eyes and see Call of Duty posters on the walls. I want