We both turned our heads and saw Thelma coming at us. Billie was chasing her. (Connie stood by the fire, watching. She'd put her T-shirt back on. She hugged her chest and rubbed her upper arms as if she had a chill.) Billie was faster than Thelma, but Thelma must've had a good headstart. Too good a headstart. Billie wasn't likely to catch her in time.
"Don't let her interfere," Kimberly told me. "I've gotta finish him off."
Thelma must've heard that. She cried out, "No! Don't you dare! Leave him be! Kimberly, leave him be, damn it!"
Kimberly muttered, "Yeah, right."
I put myself in Thelma's way, the ax at port-arms. I had no intention of hurting her, of course. I planned to block her, that's all, and give Kimberly the time she needed.
Coming at me, growling, stocky as a bulldog, she gave me a bad case of the creeps. This woman, normally so plain and innocuous and rather dumpy, had somehow changed into a raving lunatic.
At the last second, she veered to avoid me.
A quick sidestep put me into her path again.
"Stop!" I yelled.
The rock in her hand came as a surprise. She hurled it, point blank, at my face.
It almost missed.
Nicked my cheekbone and cut a hot path all the way back to my ear. I stayed on my feet, but staggered a little -- enough to let her slip by.
Billie made a flying leap for Thelma's feet.
She came up short and plowed a furrow through the sand.
"Shit!" Kimberly shouted.
Stumbling, I saw her still sitting on Wesley's back. She had the knife open in her right hand. Her left hand clutched Wesley by the hair. The way he was thrashing and whimpering, though, I knew she hadn't gotten a chance to use the knife. Her torso was twisted sideways as she watched her sister.
"Stay back!" she shouted.
Thelma snatched the spear out of the sand. With a bellow that gave me goosebumps, she swung the spear at Kimberly. It whistled as it cut the air. Kimberly flung up her right arm to block it. The spear lashed in underneath her arm and whacked against her side.
"Leave him be!" Thelma shrieked, and raised the spear overhead to strike again.
Kimberly was already tumbling off Wesley's back.
With a leap, I put myself in front of Thehna. I blocked her spear's downward stroke with my ax. When it crashed against the haft of the ax, it broke in half.
Half of it flew off into the darkness.
Thelma still held the other half. She rammed it in low, shoving its sharp, broken end into my belly. It didn't go in. Not very far,anyway. But it felt red-hot and rammed my wind out. I staggered backward, tripped over Wesley's feet, and fell.
Fast as I could, I raised my head.
Wesley was starting to crawl away.
Billie was on her knees, trying to get up. Thanks to her skid through the sand, her breasts had come out of her bikini. (Normally, I would've been thrilled by such a development. Not then, though. I noticed, but didn't much care.) Thelma smacked Billie across the face with what remained of the spear. Down went Billie.
"Get up!" she yelled at Wesley, who was still crawling. "Get up and run!"
She kept shouting as she rushed over to where Kimberly was struggling to stand up. She kicked her sister in the side and knocked her over, then kicked her again -- this time in the stomach. I heard Kimberly grunt.
Wesley, whimpering and sobbing, scrambled to his feet.
I still had his ax.
He didn't come for it, though. He started to run, in a lurching jog, toward the jungle.
Thelma yelled, "Run! Run! Go!"
She followed him tike some sort of rear guard, twisting and turning to keep her eyes on us.
I used the ax handle to push against the sand and keep myself steady as I got to my feet. When I was up, I glanced at the others. Billie lay on her back, holding her face and moaning. Kimberly, curled on her side, made wheezy sounds as she tried to breathe.
Connie was now dashing toward us, a spear in one hand. She must've decided to join the fray when she saw Thelma slam her mother in the face.
She was still too far away to do a lot of good.
None of the three gals on my team was in any position to stop Wesley's escape.
It'd be me or nobody.
I'm not exactly a hero-type, but I sure as hell didn't like the idea of letting him get away. So I hefted the ax with both hands and went after him.
I would've caught him, too.
And hacked him to death, probably.
But Thelma, guarding his rear, turned on me and blocked my way. I should've gone through her. That's just what I would've tried, if she'd been a guy. But instead, I cut to the right and tried to dodge past her side. She leaped and got in the way again. Head up, arms out, hunched over at the waist, she looked like some kind of butch sports-fiend determined to stop me from scoring.
"Get out of the way!" I yelled in her face.
I dodged to the left, but she sprang in front of me again. "No no no no no," she said. "You think you're getting him? No no no. Think again, shithead."
Meanwhile, Wesley had almost made it to the jungle.
I'd wanted to nail him while he was still on the beach, but the chance for that was gone.
"Get out of the way or I'll chop you down!" I shouted.
"Like fun." Suddenly, she dropped her arms and stood up straight, her eyes wide with alarm at something going on behind me. "NO!" she yelled.
I whirled around.
Connie, in mid-stride, launched her spear. Its long, pole shaft soared through the night high above our heads.
I think they call such a throw, in football, a "hail Mary."
It flew over us and kept on going like a Tomahawk missile homing in on the naked, pale bade of Wesley as he lurched closer and closer to the darkness.
Thelma yelled, "Wesley! Look out!" She bolted after him.
Wesley twisted sideways and looked back. He stumbled. He fell sprawling. A moment later, the spear zipped down and planted itself in the sand -- probably ten feet to his right.
Behind me, Connie yelled, "Fuck!"
I glanced back at her. She had quit running -- must've thought the spear would take care of business. She looked disgusted and punched at the air with her fist.
I spotted Wesley again, just in time to see him vanish into the jungle.
Thelma was chasing him.
"Wait up!" she called out, and waved a thick arm. "Wait! Wesley! I'm coming with you!"
A couple of seconds later, she was gone, too.
Battered Angels
Nobody went in after Thelma and Wesley.
Would've been too dangerous, for one thing.
For another, our ambush had turned into a disaster. We were stunned, disappointed, angry, confused -- and injured.
Mostly thanks to Thelma.
After the end of the mess, we stood around together on the moonlit beach where it had happened. I had the ax resting on my shoulder. Billie, hands on hips (and breasts back inside her bikini), frowned toward the jungle. Connie was bent over, hands on knees, still trying to catch her breath after racing almost to the edge of the jungle to retrieve the spear she'd thrown at Wesley. Kimberly shook her head and shut the blade of her Swiss Army knife.
We must've all been thinking about Thelma.
"How could she do it?" Kimberly said.
Billie made a snorty sound. "She loves the guy."
"But he killed Dad. My God! Her own father! I can see how she might not turn on him for a little thing like killing my husband, but he murdered Dad."
"Oh, her dear Wesley wouldn't do that," Connie said. "The dumb bitch."
"She knows he did it," Billie said. "She might not be a genius, but she's not that stupid."
"I think she just went nuts," I said. "All this stuff the past few days -- and then seeing her father get whacked this morning -- it unhinged her."
"You might be right," Billie said. "This sure wasn't the behavior of a rational person, tonight."
"We knew she might cause trouble," I reminded everyone. "That's why we didn't let her in on the plan."
"Never thought she'd do something like this," Kimberly muttered. "Jesus H. Christ." She tucked the knife down inside her bikini pants. "We should've tied her up."