She pulled the ice pick out, sending another shock of pain through me, then straddled me and began whispering in my ear again.
“The smell of your blood will drive Zeus wild,” she said. “As soon as I finish, I’m going to let him taste you. He hates you anyway. Do you know why? Because I told him you killed his sister. How’s your daughter, anyway?”
She scooted to the left and drove the pick through my other forearm. A wave of nausea came over me, and I turned my head to the side in case I threw up. I didn’t want to drown in my own vomit, but the thought crossed my mind that it might be better than what Natasha had in store for me. She crawled around to my right foot, and I braced again for the pain. But as she lifted the hammer, I heard another female voice.
“Stop hurting him, Natasha.”
Was I hallucinating? Maybe, but when I looked at Natasha, there was a look of surprise, maybe bewilderment, on her face.
“You!” Natasha hissed as she slowly stood. “What are you doing here?”
I heard a squishing sound, footsteps, and looked back and to my left. Alisha was standing there, and in her hands she held Fraley’s shotgun. The dog continued to snarl and bark. I could see it pulling against the leash. Please, God, don’t let the leash break. Please.
“Leave him alone, Natasha. Let him go.”
“Or what? Are you going to shoot me?” Natasha started walking slowly towards her sister as she spoke. “You, the good daughter, the gentle soul, the Wiccan princess? You’ve never hurt anything in your life. You don’t have the strength.”
“Stop, Natasha, or I’ll pull the trigger.”
“Go ahead!” Natasha yelled. “You can’t hurt me anyway. Don’t you know who I am? Don’t you know that I’m the daughter of Satan?”
She began to speak in the same language I’d heard at the courthouse, continuing to move towards Alisha. As she spoke, she quickened her step. Suddenly, she raised the ice pick and lunged at Alisha.
The shotgun belched fire and smoke and thunder, and Natasha was lifted off the ground. I heard a thud as she landed, and I strained to see if she was moving. Alisha dropped the shotgun and began working on the ropes holding my arms. As soon as they were free, I tried to help her loosen the ropes on my ankles, but my fingers wouldn’t work. Blood was pouring out of the wounds in my forearms, and when I tried to stand, pain and dizziness forced me back to my knees. I looked over at Natasha-she was faceup a few feet away. Her shirt was stained with dark blood.
She bleeds. I guess she’s human after all.
I crawled over to the shotgun and picked it up. The dog had suddenly grown quiet. I didn’t want to kill it, but if it broke free and came after us, I knew I wouldn’t have a choice. Alisha hooked her hand beneath my arm and helped me get to my feet. I noticed headlights coming down the road towards the driveway. I turned back and stood looking down at Natasha. My forearms felt like they were on fire, and my head felt as if it were about to explode with every beat of my heart. With Alisha still holding my arm for support, and using the shotgun as a crutch, I knelt back down next to Natasha and felt for a pulse.
Nothing.
At last, the wicked witch was dead.
“Help me get to the side of the house,” I said to Alisha as she pulled me up from my knees. “I think someone’s coming.”
The storm had lost some of its ferocity, but rain continued to fall. We got to the corner of the house just as the car pulled into the driveway. As it moved closer, I recognized the Crown Victoria. It was Leon Bates.
I turned to Alisha and gently touched her cheek. Her long hair was plastered to the sides of her face, rainwater dripping from her chin.
“You have to go now,” I said. “You have to get out of here. I don’t want him to see you.”
“What? What do you mean?” she said. She seemed to be in a state of semi-shock.
“Go in the back door, get those wet clothes off, and stay inside until they come to question you. Tell them you don’t know what happened. Tell them you were too scared to look outside.”
“But why?” she said. “I… I…”
I was thinking about Lee Mooney and Freeley Sells and their desire to see someone suffer publicly for crimes that had been committed in their district. I was thinking about political agendas and scapegoats. I was thinking about how corrupt the system could be.
“Please, Alisha, I know how things work. I’m afraid of what they might do to you. They might arrest you. They might charge you with murder. I’m not going to let it happen.”
The interior light in Bates’s car came on, and I heard the door slam.
“Go!” I said. “Please, just go inside and don’t ever say a word to anyone.”
She looked at me desperately, her face a mosaic of fear, confusion, and sadness. I saw her make the decision, and she disappeared around the corner of the house. I heard the door to the back porch creak, and I knew she was safe.
Without Alisha, I was unable to stand for more than a few seconds, and I dropped once again to my knees. The beam of a flashlight was making its way towards me slowly.
“Here!” I yelled, immediately regretting it because of the pain. The beam was on me instantly, and then Leon Bates was over me, water pouring off of the plastic cover of his cowboy hat.
“Damn, brother, are you all right?” Bates said.
“No.”
“What the hell happened here? Where is she?”
I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb. “Over there. She’s dead. Watch out for the dog.”
Bates walked immediately to the spot where Natasha lay. I watched as he surveyed the scene: the body, the tent stakes and the ropes, the shotgun, the ice pick. The Doberman didn’t make a sound. I saw Bates pick up a shovel and examine it closely with the flashlight. He looked towards the back of the house and disappeared from sight for a minute. When he returned, he stood over me again.
“You’re bleeding like a stuck hog, Dillard,” he said. “We’d best get an ambulance out here, pronto.”
He hoisted me to my feet and we made our way to his car. As he opened the back door on the passenger side, he told me to wait for a minute.
“I’ve got some plastic in the trunk,” he said. “Let me cover the seat. I don’t want you bleeding all over my damned vehicle.”
Once I was in the backseat, Bates got on the radio. I felt myself sliding towards unconsciousness. Time passed, I don’t know how much, and Bates was leaning over me again, checking my wounds.
“You gotta stay awake now,” he said. “Don’t go slipping into no coma on me.”
I was conscious of him kneeling next to me, dabbing the wounds on my arms with something. I opened my eyes and saw a first-aid kit sitting on the ground.
“Talk to me, Dillard,” he said.
I opened my eyes and tried to focus, but I felt as though the life were ebbing out of me like an ocean tide.
“Who killed her?” Bates said.
“I did,” I whispered.
“I don’t reckon that’s true, brother. Don’t take no genius to figure out what happened over there. Somebody got staked out on the ground, and judging by the blood on the ice pick and the shovel and the wounds to your head and your arms, I’m guessing it was you. I don’t reckon you was in much shape to defend yourself after she whacked you in the head with that shovel and tied you up, so somebody had to help you, and I reckon that somebody is the person who left those wet footprints on the back porch when she went in the house.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head as much as I could without passing out from the pain. “No, Leon, please don’t. Please!”
“Why?” Bates said. “Why are you doing this?”
“She saved my life,” I whispered. “She had to kill her own sister. She’s already paid enough. Please don’t throw her to the wolves. Just let her be.”
He stared at me for a long moment, his mouth slightly agape. Even in the state I was in, I could almost see the wheels turning in his mind as he pondered his next move. His eyes suddenly flew open wide, as though he’d experienced some kind of revelation.