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Emerson looked into the hole. “I don’t feel that would be in our best interest. You’re certain to kill us once we’re down there.”
“You have it all wrong,” Tin Man said. “I don’t intend to kill you. My associate is just going to shoot each of you in the leg. Then, we’ll leave you here to discover for yourselves
whether you’re predator or prey.”
Vernon lowered his center of gravity and started to sway back and forth.
“What’s he doing?” Bob asked.
Vernon did an awkward-looking somersault, struggled back to his feet, and continued to sway.
“I’m about to go all capybara on your ass,” Vernon said.
“Isn’t a capybara a rodent?” Bob asked Tin Man.
Tin Man smiled. “I think he means ‘capoeira,’ the Brazilian martial art based on dance and acrobatics.”
Everyone was mesmerized by Vernon.
“Has he really been studying capoeira?” Riley asked Emerson.
“He had a Groupon at a local dance studio for a free introductory Zumba class last month,” Emerson said, “but the instructor was sick, so they stuck him in the capoeira class instead.”
Riley caught a flash of orange in her peripheral vision and turned in time to see Wayan Bagus spin and perfectly execute a flying kick to Bob’s gut. Bob doubled over on a whoosh of expelled air and dropped his rifle. He staggered back and tumbled into the pit. Wayan Bagus grabbed the rifle, and threw it into the brush.
“Nice move,” Tin Man said, “but it was a big mistake to get rid of the rifle.”
“It was of no use to me,” Wayan Bagus said. “I could not let you use it to injure my friends, and I could not use it to injure you. I would prefer not to contend.”
Tin Man pulled a pair of hatchets from a concealed holster. “And I intend to contend,” he said. “The rifle wouldn’t have been much use to me either. These are my weapons of choice.”
Tin Man threw the first hatchet at Emerson, missing him by less than an inch. He brandished the second and moved past Riley and Emerson, toward Wayan Bagus.
Vernon roared, doing his best imitation of a pissed-off bull moose. “Capybara your ass,” Vernon yelled, charging Tin Man and head-butting him from behind, knocking him into the pit beside Bob and the buffalo.
“Thank you,” Wayan Bagus said to Vernon. “It was thoughtful of you to come to my aid.”
Riley peered over the edge of the pit. Tin Man was slowly getting to his feet. Bob was standing but looked dazed and uncomprehending.
“I have to admit, I was a little worried there for a while,” Riley said.
“No need for that when you got Little Buddy and me tag-teaming,” Vernon said. “Isn’t that right, Little Buddy?”
“What is ‘tag-team’?” Wayan Bagus asked.
“Tag-team’s what they do in the WWE. That’s World Wrassling Entertainment. Don’t tell me you don’t follow the WWE. Where’ve you been all your life?”
“In a monastery and then on an island…until someone stole it,” Wayan Bagus said.
“I’m thinking it’s lucky for you someone stole that island,” Vernon said. “Otherwise you might have lived your whole life without the WWE and two-ply toilet paper.”
“I do like the two-ply toilet paper,” Wayan Bagus said, retrieving the hatchet Tin Man had thrown at Emerson.
Wayan Bagus used the hatchet to free Riley, Vernon, and Emerson from the zip ties, and everyone moved to the edge of the pit. Tin Man was clawing at the rocks and dirt, trying to climb out, not having any luck at it.
Emerson leaned over the edge. “We have to be going now. We’re going to borrow your Tahoe. You two can stay here and work on your survival skills.”
It was difficult to see Tin Man’s face in the dark shadows at the bottom of the pit, but Riley could hear him swear. She saw the flash of a hatchet blade, and her breath caught in her throat as, without warning, Tin Man buried the blade deep into Bob’s chest. Bob fell back and lay motionless, the hatchet still in him.
