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He was either going to die or the rest of us were.
He lowered his knife, a startlingly real sadness coming over him. “I was going to take you with me. I wanted my sister at my side again.” A new look showed, a new determination. His jaw clenched and he raised that knife back up. “That will happen, Billie. I know you’re on a suicide mission, but I won’t let that happen. I’ll take you away from here. I’ll try not to hurt yo—”
I ran at him. Enough talking.
He changed his stance, and once I got to him, he ducked my first punch, but I landed my second. As he fell back a step, I was on him again, yanking one of his feet out from him. He fell hard on the floor. I raised my foot up to stomp down on his balls, but he rolled to the side, sweeping my feet out from under me. As I fell, he was on me pinning me.
Oh, hell no.
I snarled, twisting out. Trying to.
He had my legs pinned and one of my arms, but he didn’t have the other one down because he was still holding his knife.
“Stop, Billie. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
He was ridiculously strong. Did all serial killers get an extra strong genome in their DNA? Was that why they were psychopaths?
I panted and raged, but I kept twisting.
He cursed, readjusting his hold, but in doing that, he gave me an opening. I rolled to my side, my feet free, and he cursed again, more savagely, as he rolled completely off me.
I jumped to my feet, ready to attack, but I braked.
My world flipped upside down.
He’d gone to his collateral, and he had Vicky up on her knees. He stood behind her, the knife at her throat. He was panting too, sweating too, but his eyes were a stone-cold killer’s. “Do—don’t, Billie! Don’t. I will kill her. I’ll do it now in front of you or I’ll do it later. It’s up to you, but if you go with me, peacefully, she’ll have a chance then.”
I scowled, but God—I couldn’t beat him in hand-to-hand. I wasn’t skilled enough.
I shot back, “Howard too.”
He grinned, darkly approving. “You’re a smart girl, aren’t you? What did Dad like to call you? Litt—”
The sounds of clucking started, at first quiet, timid. Then louder. They grew, and I looked behind me, to the opened door. Miss Sylvia Rivera was leading the flock. I’d left the coop door and cage open when Travis had been here earlier.
That seemed so long ago.
The ladies came looking for me, and running right to me, Miss Sylvia Rivera sped up, her clucking getting louder and louder. The rest swarmed around me, going to Howard, and then bypassing to Vicky. She was their other mother. They knew her, and apparently they decided now was breakfast time, despite it was still at night.
Ben was distracted, and Vicky surged to her feet, throwing her head backwards.
Thunk!
Cluck, cluck, CLUCKCLUCKCLUCKUCKCUCK! All the hens were in an uproar. They didn’t like bodies suddenly almost landing on them.
She got him, and both were dazed for a moment, but it was enough.
I lunged over the couch where they had landed, and grabbed Ben’s wrist, yanking the knife away. He didn’t have a strong enough grip and as it came free, he paled.
I twisted it in my hand, moved my body so I went away from him and as I did, I tucked the knife under my side and it sunk in. I threw my body to the side, still gripping that knife. It was all engineered into one motion where I’d use my body’s momentum to drag the knife across his stomach.
He howled, jerking forward. He clutched his stomach.
As that happened, I grabbed Vicky and dragged her across the floor.
She was yelling through the tape but raised her wrist up. I used the knife to cut her free.
“No!” Ben started for us, but he was bleeding too much.
