The Odds - Jeff Strand Page 0,29
in the fall? What if he was paralyzed?
No, he could still feel everything—and everything hurt—and with some effort he was able to get moving again, though not before the man had snatched up the knife and staggered down the hallway toward the woman’s bedroom.
Move, asshole, he told himself. He ignored the pain and hurried back up the stairs.
The man went into the bedroom.
Ethan ran down the hallway after him.
The woman screamed.
Ethan could deal with the pain later. He ran into the bedroom, where the man stood next to the bed, the knife clenched tightly in his fist. The woman was trying to scramble away from him but she hadn’t even made it to the other side of the bed.
The man raised the knife.
Ethan dove at him. Actually dove into the air, arms outstretched, and smashed into him.
The man’s head struck the mattress. It was just a mattress, but he hit it really hard.
Ethan grabbed the back of his head by the hair and bashed him into the mattress over and over, as violently as he could, feeling a bit stupid but not having any other option at the moment.
He realized that the man had let go of the knife, so he yanked him up by the hair and shoved him to the side. The man struck the nightstand, knocking over a lamp, then fell to the floor.
Ethan picked up the knife.
The man’s nose was bleeding badly and he looked stunned. Ethan kicked him in the chest, then crouched down next to him and pressed the blade to his throat.
“Move and I’ll fucking kill you!” Ethan shouted.
The man spat out some blood. “Don’t hurt me, please,” he said. “It’s not my fault. They forced me to do this, okay? It’s a game. They’ll kill my family, okay?” He spat out some more blood. “I’ve got a wife. I’ve got three kids. I didn’t want to do this.”
Ethan didn’t know what to say to that. Had he won? This counted as saving the woman, right?
“Where’s my phone?” said the woman. “What happened to my phone? It was right here!”
“We’re done, right?” Ethan asked the man.
The man nodded. “Just don’t kill me.”
Downstairs, the front door opened.
Ethan kept the knife to the man’s throat as the stairs creaked. Sounded like more than one person.
Two men entered the bedroom, dressed entirely in black. They even had black facemasks. They were each holding a pistol.
“Move away from him,” one of them told Ethan.
Ethan got up right away and moved to the other side of the room. The man wiped blood off his face and began to cry.
“I tried to get her,” he said. “I almost did it! This isn’t my fault!”
“That’s not why we’re here. You broke the rule.”
“No! No, I didn’t!”
“You told him you were in a game.”
The man’s eyes went wide with panic. “That didn’t count! He was going to kill me! And he’s part of the game too, right?” He looked over at Ethan. “You’re part of it too, right?”
The men in facemasks pointed their pistols at him.
The old woman on the bed clapped her hands over her mouth in horror.
“You don’t need to hurt him,” said Ethan. “I won’t say anything.”
“Actually, we do,” said one of the men. “If we don’t punish him for breaking the rule, not only does he know we weren’t serious, but you know we weren’t serious. That’s not good.”
“Please!” the man wailed.
The men in facemasks opened fire. The man’s body twitched as several silenced shots hit him in the face and chest. None of the bullets missed him. By the time he flopped over, they’d shot him at least ten times, which seemed to be more of a message to Ethan than necessary effort to kill the man.
The woman shrieked.
One of the men walked over to the bed. He pushed the woman back down onto her back, then picked up a pillow and pressed it against her face.
“You...you’re not really going to kill her, are you?” Ethan asked.
The man who wasn’t smothering the old woman nodded.
“But I saved her. I won.”
“You won. You get the point. She loses. We obviously can’t have her telling the caregiver what happened in the morning, right?”
Ethan’s phone rang. “Please don’t kill her,” he said.
“She was dead as soon as we finalized the challenge. You can try to stop us, but I discourage it.”
Ethan took his phone out of his pocket. It was Rick. He answered.
“Congratulations,” said Rick. “I knew you could do it.”
Ethan said nothing. The old woman struggled, but her