you came up here?” the man continued. “I couldn’t shoot you, pal. I could never hurt anyone. Just isn’t in me.”
The man walked towards a wicker table in the center of the porch and set the gun down. “There.” He splayed empty hands. “All gone.”
The man then turned those open hands into fists and put them up in a classic 19th century boxing stance, one fist behind the other, chin ludicrously high. “Come on then, stud. Let’s do a bit of fisticuffs, yeah?” He made small circles with his fists as though ready for the opening bell. “Come on, you don’t want your wife to think you’re a pussy, do ya? Because no matter what they might tell you, it’s always the knight-in-shining-armor shit that gets ’em wet. You see, a woman will make love to a pacifist…” He smirked. “But she’ll fuck a knight.”
Patrick twitched again.
The man exaggerated his stance, raised his fists high. “So what’s it gonna be, stud? You gonna be the knight or the pussy?”
Patrick started forward.
Amy lunged after her husband, grabbed his arm with both hands. “No!” She fronted Patrick and placed both hands on his chest. “No, Patrick, he’ll grab the gun as soon as you go up there. He’s the pussy!” She turned and faced the man, one hand still on her husband’s chest. “YOU’RE the pussy!” She turned back to Patrick. “We’ll call the police. We’ll go home right now and call the police.” Back over her shoulder again at the man, “WE’RE CALLING THE POLICE!”
The screen door to the cabin opened, a metallic bang declaring it shut once the porch’s newest occupant appeared. He was a man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a welt on his cheek. He was holding a doll. “What the hell is going on out here?” the man asked. “Can’t a guy play with his doll in peace?”
Patrick’s mouth fell open.
Amy leaned forward and squinted. “Is that…?”
“Arty,” Patrick whispered.
Arty held up Josie the doll. He made one of the plastic arms wave at the stunned couple. “Howdy, Penn State fans.”
29
“We’re leaving tonight,” Amy said. “The second the kids come back, and the second the sheriff arrests those assholes, we-are-leaving.”
Patrick sat at the kitchen table, gripping a glass of water. Frequent jabs of ire flooded his limbs and tempted him to squeeze until the glass shattered in his hand.
“They know each other,” he said. “They fucking know each other.”
“It makes sense,” Amy said. She was pacing throughout the kitchen. “Arty knew which car was ours from the gas station. For all we know he was there with the bald guy at the supermarket.”
“They’re fucking with us,” Patrick said with a pitiful laugh. “They’ve been watching us and fucking with us this whole time.”
“They couldn’t possibly live in that cabin could they? I mean there’s no way, right?” Amy asked.
“No,” Patrick said. “No way.”
“Well how does that work then? If they don’t live there—”
“I don’t know, Amy. Maybe they broke into the place.”
“Well if that’s true, then what about the people who do live there? What happened to them?”
Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose hard. “I have no idea. We need to let the sheriff go and check the place out.”
Amy paced some more before taking a seat at the table. “It was all too weird—all this bullshit in such a short period of time.”
Patrick nodded. “It’s how they’ve managed to stay ahead of us—working together the way they were.”
“You still think that finger was a prank from a kid?” Amy asked.
Patrick took a drink of water. “I don’t know.”
“You still think it was a rubber finger?” Her tone was condescending.
Patrick shot her a look. His wife was frustrated and scared, and Patrick knew an outburst on his part would solve little. He swallowed his anger, steadied his breathing. “I really don’t know, Amy. Right about now I would have to say the damn thing was probably real.”
Amy snorted a disgusted smile and began massaging her temples with both hands.
Patrick looked away. He didn’t look at her when he spoke. “I should have listened to you.” His voice was softer now. “We should have left when you said.”
Patrick was surprised how quickly his wife said, “No.” She took both hands away from her temples, sat upright in her chair. Her face was apologetic for her snide remarks. “No, I didn’t want that. I wanted to stay. And you knew that…”
Patrick kept his profile to her; eye contact didn’t feel right yet.
“I just needed you to convince me,