Authors: J. C. Gatlin
Kim tried
not to listen, to keep him out of her head. She was half deaf anyway, with one
ear pressed tightly to the rough sheetrock of the closet wall. Clothing weighed
heavy on her back and pressed against her sides. Her chest barely had room to
expand, barely accommodating her own shallow breaths.
The drumming of her compressed heart
against her breastbone beat so loudly in her ears, it seemed to fill the
claustrophobic confines of her hiding place to the point she was certain the
landlord would hear.
He turned
his head toward her direction, and stepped toward the closet. Another red
droplet fell in front of his boot, as he raised his arm, positioning the spiked
awl. There was a mournful longing in his voice, like that of a father who must
put down the beloved family dog.
“In
death, you will always be innocent.” His voice faded, losing its edge. “In
death, you will be safe.”
Kim shut
her eyes, summoning her strength, trying not to think about the sharp tool from
which the blood dripped. She struggled to keep her fragile control.
Taking a
quick, sharp breath, she opened her eyes again.
The
landlord was standing in the ray of moonlight cascading down from the skylight.
He bent at the knees, studying the sparkling diamond on the floor. He picked it
up.
It was
the opportunity Kim was waiting for.
Leaping
up from her crouched position, she spun out of the closet and slammed him in
the midsection. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she threw her weight into
him and they fell to the floor. He rolled on top of her, grabbing her throat.
She bit into his arm. Shrieking, he let go, falling sideways.
Kim
rolled on top of him and reached for the handle of the awl. He caught her wrist
and bent her arm back. She screamed, punching him in the face with her other
arm. Twisting, he rolled her over and straddled her, pinning her to the floor.
She could
see the awl
laying
near her on the floor. She reached
for it, stretching her arm till the tendons burned taught. Her fingers grasped
the wood handle. He reached over, on top of her, and took the sharp tool from
her grasp.
“I failed
Bonnie.” He leaned forward, speaking in her ear. “But I won’t fail you.”
Kim
struggled but he overpowered her. He leaned forward on top of her, bringing his
face closer to hers, his breath
tingling
her cheek.
“You
understand, Missy,” he said. “This is the only way I can protect your innocence.”
Kim
turned her head to the side, her cheek pressed to the carpet. Her face
contorted as she fought against him, her eyes desperately searching for
something.
Anything.
“I will
make it quick and painless.” His weight shifted on top of her. She could hear
him but his voice sounded disconnected from his body. She watched his lips
move. “I want you to know this will hurt me more than it hurts you.”
He
shifted his weight again, restricting her breath. Gasping, she looked up at his
arm. He raised it above his head. His hand gripped the awl. He pointed the
silver spike downward.
A flash
of motion came up beside him and the old man’s face twisted to the side, at the
same time surprised and confused. He never saw the wooden baseball bat slam
into the side of his head, smashing his face and breaking his jawbone. His
whole body flung to the side as blood, spit and teeth exploded from his mouth
like shrapnel and embedded into the wall. The old man slumped forward, landing
on top of her. Blood spilled out his nose and mouth.
Kim
exhaled.
Standing
above them, a red headed woman firmly gripped a baseball bat.
“Yeah,”
Mallory said, panting. “That probably hurt too.”
Kim
rolled the old man off her. His blood splattered her shirt, arms and face.
Mallory helped her to her feet.
The room
fell silent again.
Mallory
stood over the body.
“The old landlord?
Really?”
She looked at Kim. “We should’ve seen that coming a
mile away.”
Drawing a
breath, Kim took the bloody baseball bat from Mallory’s fixed grip and set it
on the bed.
Gunz
Gonzales' autograph was slightly
smudged with a bloody print. It made her smile,
then
she looked down at the body.
“We just
get stronger.” Kim clenched her jaw to kill the sob in her throat.
There was
a pool of blood at her feet, streaming toward the engagement ring still lying a
foot away. The diamond sparkled and Mallory reached for it.
“Leave it,”
Kim said, taking Mallory's hand. Together, they moved out of the loft.
Once
downstairs, Kim gingerly lifted Zeus into her arms. He was bleeding. But, she could
feel the faint murmur of his heart. It made her eyes tear with an equally faint
glimmer of hope.
There
wasn't much time.
Mallory
took the hand-stitched quilt from the back of the recliner and handed it to
Kim. She tightly wrapped the dog and held him close. A large brown eye
flittered opened and looked up at her. Kim smiled and ran a hand over his head
and massaged the skin between his ears.
Calmly,
she stepped out the front door and carried him out of the townhome. Mallory
followed.
They
waited for the ambulance. When it arrived, its bright red-orange lights and
shrill siren interrupted the night and brought the neighbors to their windows
and front porches. Mrs.
Roundtree
was there holding
her Pekingese in her arms. Kim handed Zeus to the paramedics in the back of the
ambulance.
As the
police arrived in a swarm of squad cars,
Kim
painfully climbed inside the ambulance and sat next to her dog. Mallory grabbed
her hand and squeezed it. Their eyes locked, but there was nothing
left
to say.
After a
few moments, Mallory let go of Kim's hand. The paramedics shut the doors and
the ambulance moved forward through the open security gates,
then
disappeared down the street.
Also by JC Gatlin...
The
Designated Survivor
Available
on Amazon.com
in
paperback & Kindle
Visit
JC's mystery-suspense blog at
www.JCGatlin.com
Bio
JC
Gatlin lives in Tampa, Florida. In addition to regular fishing trips, he wrote
a monthly column in New Tampa Style magazine, then began penning several
mystery
suspense
stories. His first, 'The Designated Survivor,' was published in 2013. He also
maintains a mystery writing blog at www.jcgatlin.com
Coming from a large family with five
brothers, JC grew up in Grapevine, Texas,
a
small town
just outside Dallas. He moved to Tampa in 1999, and most of his stories feature
the rich landscapes of Texas and Florida as backdrop.