Hunters Run Page 0,94

man shouted.

"I didn't!"

"Lying sack of shit!" the man yelled. "You're one of them. You're

a monster!"

"Yes. Yes, I am. And I'm still a better man than you." "Monster!"

Ramon didn't bother to answer. The man had made up his mind.

Just the way Ramon would have in his place. The one thing he understood was that there was no reason, no explanation, no perspective he could bring to this that would make the ending any different from what it was going to be.

"You're a fucking coward, you know that?" Ramon said, hoping to enrage his twin into making a mistake. "You're a pussy. Elena's a waste of air, and you know it."

"Don't fucking talk about her!"

"You were in love with that cook, Lianna. The one you stole from Martin Casaus. And you don't even have the fucking balls to say so! You hang on to Elena because you're scared not to. Because, without her, you know you aren't part of anything or anyone. You're just some pendejo with a third-class van and some prospecting tools."

Rage flushed the other man's face. Ramon bent his knees, center of gravity low, ready to dodge in whatever direction he needed to. Except back. There was no raft left behind him.

"You don't know shit!"

"I know everything. Come on, bitch," Ramon said. "You want to dance? Fine. Come on. I'll fuck you up and shit you out."

The man swung wild, the raft rocking with his shifting weight. Ramon sidestepped and turned, throwing a kick that connected with empty air. The man swung around in a lower stance now. They'd done little more than trade places. The knife was held sideways before him in a defensive block. The anger had drained out of the other man; his eyes were slitted and cold. That wasn't good. If he'd been possessed by fear and blind rage, Ramon would have had a chance. If the bastard was thinking, then Ramon had just become the European.

The man feinted left and then right, his eyes locked on Ramon's. Testing him. Ramon danced back, his feet finding the rough edge of the raft. The man swung, and Ramon dove into the attack, getting under and past the knife before it could score him. The raft creaked and bucked, making them both stumble, but the man was the first to regain his feet. Another stroke of lightning flashed. Thunder came almost before the glow had faded. Ramon grinned. His twin did as well. Whatever else, however bad this was, there was still a certain joy in it.

Under what circumstances do you kill?

When the motherfucker needs to die.

Ramon took a careful swing with his unarmored hand, then dodged quickly when the knife flickered up to block him. The other man thrust low, leaving a shallow cut on Ramon's leg, just above the knee. It was nothing. He forgot about it. They circled awkwardly, Ramon bouncing gently on the balls of his feet. A light rain began, making the iceroot leaves beneath them slick. The other man gathered himself for a rush, the subtle bunching of his shoulders giving his intentions away. Ramon jumped, making the raft shift crazily. The man slipped to one knee, and then rose again immediately.

"You killed him because you thought it would make them like you!" Ramon shouted.

"What?"

"You killed the pinche European because you thought all those people in the El Rey would think you were a fucking hero! You're pathetic!"

"Fuck you, monster!" the other man said, and swung. It was what had to happen. Ramon didn't give himself time to think; he jumped forward, letting the blade skate across his ribs, pinning the man's arm against his side. Pain shrieked as the knife touched bone, but the man couldn't pull back to stab again. Ramon used his free hand to grab the man's injured hand and squeeze. His twin grunted with pain and tried to pull back. They wrestled together in a drunken embrace. This close, he could smell the other man, a rank, musky, unwashed reek that he found amazingly unpleasant. His breath huffed into Ramon's face like a blast of foul air, stinking of dead meat. Ramon kept the blade arm pinned against his side, but the other man lost his footing, and they slid to the deck together. Rain and river water splashed over them. Something struck the raft, and it spun crazily; there was no oar to stabilize them and no oarsman.

"You shouldn't be alive, you fucking abomination," the man hissed. "You shouldn't be alive!"

"The thing is, you don't