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I can’t find a damn thing.
“No, no,” he pants. “I don’t think they got me. Whew! That was a close one!” He laughs and slaps his knee, then combs his fingers through sweaty hair and makes a sound of relief. “Jesus, can you believe that? A whole colony? In the walls? We’re going to have to call someone out to take care of that right away.”
I have no choice but to play the cards dealt. “Yeah, no kidding. You could have died!”
Glenn meets my eyes, and for a brief moment, I think he sees right through me. But then, instead of accusing me of the worst, he grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in for a brief but impassioned kiss.
“But I didn’t,” he says as he pulls away and heads for the hallway and into the bathroom. “I’ll be damned if a couple of little bees take me out,” he calls back. “When I die, it’s going to be epic and memorable, not by some sissy bee sting. Skydiving or something.”
Skydiving. Now, why hadn’t I thought of that?Probably because you’re afraid of heights, dummy.
But a question comes to me that I can’t dismiss. Am I doing Glenn a disservice by killing him with something simple, something that isn’t memorable? Clearly, he wants to be remembered, and doesn’t everyone have that right? But that brings me back to the fact that I really can’t stand my husband, and he isn’t a very good one anyway, and if I did it his way, I would be tossed in jail for the rest of my life. So I really can’t afford to be considerate of his last wishes, could I?
Beggars can’t be choosers.
Besides, if I do it right, Glenn will never know what hit him. He’ll die not knowing it could have been different. No fear and no regrets. Just lights out, Gracie. And isn’t that a pretty nice death, all things considered?
“Damn.” Glenn emerges from the bathroom a short while later, his hair wet as if he’s run it under the faucet, and his cheeks a normal shade of pink. “I left the fish outside. Do you think the bees are gone yet?”
I know from watching nature programs that bees can be relentless once threatened. I’ve even heard that if they chase someone under water, they’ll wait for them to surface to attack. The person would drown before ever getting help.
“I’d say it’s a safe bet,” I encourage.
“Good because I’m starving.”
I afford him a strained smile. When isn’t Glenn hungry? At this point, it's a foregone conclusion. “You clean the fish, and I’ll get started on the sides.”
“Teamwork. I like it.” Glenn grins and then heads for the front door. I watch closely, waiting for the horrified screams and the inevitable to come.
But it never does.
To my surprise, dismay, and utter disappointment, there’s no swarm awaiting him when he steps outside. It’s just a typical sunny day with hardly a cloud in the sky.
Once again, Glenn had a brush with death and survived.
What will it take to kill this guy?
Seventeen
~Declan~
They are enjoying a nice dinner by a campfire that Brenda built. I’m as impressed by her survival skills as I am annoyed that she seems to have to do all the heavy lifting in the relationship. Glenn isn’t making a very good case for himself on why he should get a reprieve.
Not that I had ever intended to give him one.
It was a nice thought, considering doing something so kind for a stranger. Maybe the big guy upstairs will take that into account when it comes time for my card to be punched. But as the saying does, the road to Hell was paved with good intentions.
And I never intended to actually follow through with any of those nice thoughts, so I am well and truly damned, aren’t I?
While the wife keeps watch over the fire, turning the fish every couple of minutes so it won’t burn, the husband chows down on several helpings of what appears to be homemade potato salad and even manages to polish off a couple of beers along the way.
I smile at that. If I can somehow get him out onto a trail, near the edge of a steep cliff that drops straight down into the water and a mound of rocks that serve as a natural breaker wall, then I could give good old Glenn a nice push and down he’d go, never to be heard from again.
It would be clean and efficient, and at worst, the authorities would rule it an accident. Everyone would win, and then I could officially retire and start my journey to see and explore the world without any strings or worries, leaving Brenda to do something similar.
What will she do with her freedom? Will she run off to start a new life, or continue her current one, with a few changes to make it healthier and happier? Will she find a new man right away, or will she stay single for a while?
As I watch her tend the fire and the food, I find myself hoping she’ll stay single. I don’t like the idea of her with another man. Or any man, for that matter. She needs someone who is willing and able to take care of her the way she deserves, with kind words and a firm hand for anyone who thinks to take advantage of her good and kind nature.
