Page 79 of Fifty-Fifty

There was no security chain to bar her entry. She moved fast, hitting the door with her right shoulder, surprising her prey. Inside, the hallway was dark, but her eyes were already accustomed to the gloom.

A dog howled.

While the target rocked backwards, she took three careful, quick steps and rammed the knife into flesh.

The blade bit below the ribcage. The angle perfect. It slid beneath the ribs, with a trajectory just off the vertical, the tip of the knife searching for the heart.

Her fist drew tightly around the hilt and she twisted the blade.

The twist brought with it a flood of arterial blood through the channel in the center of the blade, and it flowed over her hand and wrist. She let go of the weapon and the body fell to the floor. Her victim was dead before the back of their head hit the carpet.

She kneeled, searched the body. Nothing. She ran upstairs to the bedroom, retrieved the cell phone with the pictures, rifled the drawers and spilled their contents to the floor. She found a small stash of ready cash, which she put in her pocket. She smashed the phone to pieces, and then ran down the stairs.

She bent low, grabbed the lifeless body and dragged it further into the hallway.

She saw something glint on the floor.

A fine gold chain hung limply around the neck. When she had picked up the corpse the chain must have caught on her. A link must’ve broken, and the chain

had snapped and half lay on the floor. It looked cheap. She decided no intruder would think it worth taking. She left the house, closed the front door behind her and ran from the scene, her pack bouncing on the small of her back.

BLOCH

The night air sent a chill through Bloch as she opened the door. When she saw

what was on the other side, she drew her hand across her mouth and closed her

eyes in horror.

A large fat raven stood on top of a small green bird. One of the Quaker parrots. The raven pecked so hard at its prey that its beak broke through the body and hit the boards below. The large black bird was so ravenous that the parrot’s flesh covered its head, and blood had spilled across Bloch’s porch.

Bloch shouted at the raven, and it drew back. Fluttering to the porch rail.

Bloch took one of the few empty packing boxes, split it open, and used the bottom to scoop the parrot’s remains into the box. She closed the bottom, then the top of the box and brought it inside.

As she closed the door she saw the raven staring at her before it let out a cry of protest at being robbed of its feast.

The bird was dead. Bloch couldn’t abide watching its body being torn apart on her front door. She would bury the bird, box and all, in the back yard come the morning.

HARRY

The figure that stood outside his front door looked odd. Twisted, slouched as if carrying some great weight.

Clarence whimpered again.

The figure stepped forward quickly, into the light.

Eddie looked as though he was half drowned in the rain. His suit and shirt clung to his frame. He raised his head and Harry saw his face was wet with more than rain. Eddie’s face was contorted in pain and suffering. He couldn’t speak, although his lips moved.

Instinctively Harry’s fingers reached for the gold chain around his neck, from which hung the dog tags of his two best friends who never made it out of their

foxholes one dark red night in a hot jungle east of Hanoi. Eddie raised one hand.

There, entwined between his fingers was a chain. Dangling from the chain was

an old tarnished cross. Even in the rain, Harry could see blood on the chain, on the cross.

It was Harper’s necklace.