Primal - By D.A. Serra Page 0,35

the floor. He slowly walks over to Jimmy. Electrified, the group tenses.

Ben speaks to Jimmy, “Hey, kid.” Jimmy looks up scared. “Is that really your mother?” He indicates Bella. Jimmy doesn’t know what to say. “Because I’m curious why you’d say it was if it wasn’t.”

Hank answers calmly, “It’s his stepmom. We’ve only just married.”

Bella adds quickly, “Jimmy is having a problem accepting me.”

“Yeah? Now he’s got bigger problems.” Ben turns away, “Kent?”

“Yup.”

“Go out to the shed and try and find me some metal-to-metal epoxy.” Kent puts on his coat, tucks his gun into his pant belt, and takes the flashlight. Ben continues, “And watch your step.”

“Hey, I’m not Theo. God rest is soul.” Kent makes the sign of the cross and leaves slamming the porch door.

The lodge door slams, instantly Alison flips off the flashlight. Her reflexes are sharpening. She peeks out the crack in the shed door. She sees Kent approaching. Oh, no. He walks slowly, stepping cautiously on the slippery rocks as his eyes adjust slowly to the scattered light and darkness.

She steps back from the door. What? She looks around. Here he comes. This time she will have no choice. Either way this is it. There is nowhere to hide. She looks at the axes and the harpoon. She grabs the harpoon and studies it in the dark. Her eyes are well adjusted. She finds the trigger. It is heavy. Here he comes. She rests her elbow on the countertop to steady it. Will it work? Here he comes. Is there a safety? Where’s the safety? Here he comes. The rain has let up so she hears his sloshing footsteps. It is now. Kent swings open the shed door and steps inside. His flashlight scans the room and hits her standing there pointing the harpoon right at him. Kent stares at her stunned. She is drenched and filthy. He sees her finger on the trigger. “Shit!” He reaches for his gun. She pulls the trigger. Flump! The harpoon spear comes out with so much force it throws her back as it skewers Kent’s chest and nails him to the back wall of the tin shed. His eyes are opened wide. His body jerks in spasms. She steps back horrified. It wasn’t quiet! She had hoped for quiet. Someone screamed. She knows he screamed. Or she screamed. Someone screamed. She begins to tremble convulsively. Yes, he screamed.

Gravel flies out of the lodge his weapon drawn and heading for the shed and at dead run. Alison sees him blast through the opened shed doorway. Think! Gravel is inside shocked to see his brother’s life oozing away pinned to the wall. He spins. And there is Alison.

Dramatically, “Oh god, those men killed this poor man!” She looks skinny and helpless.

“What men?” Gravel is in a fury! “How many?”

“Four.”

“Where are they?”

“There!” She points behind him. He whirls around ready to attack. He peers out from the shed. Alison leaps forward and with what she is sure will be the last move of her life, and with all the force that she can rally, for her husband, for her son, she plunges her knife up to the handle into Gravel’s back. She lets go and steps back expecting him to fall. He does not fall. He does not yell in pain. He turns his crazed eyes to her realizing. With manic rage and sudden speed, he jumps on top of her and they go down.

“Bitch. I’m going to strip your face from your skull while you’re still alive.”

He punches her in the face shattering her cheekbone. She reaches the knife in his back and twists. He rears up painfully. She pulls the handgun from her pants and flat on her back, screaming, she fires into his stomach, and again, and again, and again. He doubles over on top of her. He manages to point his gun at her and she shoots him in the forehead.

The shots echoed! In the lodge, Ben is instantly on his feet.

In Curtis’ cabin, he knows what this means. Engagement. The end. He sweeps his arm across the table throwing everything to the floor. “Damn!” Maybe someone is alive. Maybe her boy is still alive. Maybe someone escaped. What have I become here? What am I?

Gravel lies dead and hemorrhaging on top of her. His shocked and staring eyeballs are inches from her face. Her breaths are coming in short convulsive gasps. Off! Ah—off! She pulls herself out from under him. He is heavy but she slides