Mr. Woof says...in a situation like this, it's best to remember what brought you here...but then again, what brought you here, maybe the reason your in the situation...

Frank's Big Mouth

Frank was trying to think of something to say that could get him out of the situation.  But, he couldn't think clearly, because he kept thinking how much this was going to hurt.  Probably more than anything in his life.  A large man, a mountain of muscle, thick without any shape other than square, held Frank's hand down on the poker table with the fingers spread across the green felt.  The large man held in his other hand a large knife.  Instead of thinking of something to say, Frank watched the knife gleam.  But, Frank thought, it's too smoky, it's too dim in here for it to gleam.  Why was it gleaming?

            "Frank." A soft voice.

            Frank turned away from the large man with the large knife that held him in place.  His body moved slowly.  It wanted to jump up and run out of the room, leaving Frank to his own troubles.  Frank realized for the first time how much he was sweating.  He hated to sweat.  He made him feel dirty.

            The soft voice, "Frank, what were thinking?"

            What was he thinking, Frank thought.  He had a sure fire system.  No problems.  No risk.  Lots of reward.  Though, it went wrong early and kept going wrong, until, well, until he found himself in this situation.

            The soft voice leaned into the light above the poker table.  Grey hair with a smattering of white, a thin face, and a cream colored slightly wrinkled cotton suit, finished with a black silk tie.  The man with the soft voice laced his fingers together, his thumbs bobbed and weaved around each other, "Frank, I invited you to this game because I thought you should meet my friends."

            The friends, phantoms that hovered around the table, grunted in agreement.  Some smoked, one tapped his finger on his sweating glass of whiskey.

            "I thought, Frank, that it was time for you to step up, play with the big boys.  I wanted you to come up in this world.  And...sure, perhaps, we shouldn't thought stones, but, there are rules.  We don't cheat each other.  Not at this table."

            The phantoms murmured in agreement.

            "So.  Frank.  What were you thinking?"

            Frank looked at the phantoms, guys that he had looked up to and what to be ever since he was a kid.  He looked at the man with the soft voice, the man that brought him into this world, taught him all the tricks.  Frank licked his lips and realized how dry his mouth was.  He smiled as best as he could, his face didn't want to do anything, well, except jump off his skull and flee, just like the rest of his body.

            "Stop with that stupid smile.  Answer the question!"

            Frank opened his mouth, finally, it came.  This is it.  Maybe this will get me out of this, he thought, I think, I'll be ok, if I'm just... "I'm greedy."

            Silence.

            The soft voice, "You're what?"

            Frank shrugged, "Greedy.  Really greedy.  Just.  Greedy."

            Silence.

            Then, a chuckle rolled into the room, from the soft voiced man.  It became a full laugh, spreading around the room.  Soon the whole table was laughing, phantoms shaking, one wiped a tear from his eye.

            Frank relaxed and started to laugh.

            The man with the soft voiced waved a finger toward Frank.  "Lou."  The big man looked to the soft voiced man. 

            The large man, Lou, leaned forward, putting his weight behind the blade.  The knife fell in between the hand and pinky finger, severing it from the hand.

            Frank only registered bright white light.  When his vision cleared, he saw blood.  His blood.  Still not feeling anything, he scooped up his hand and cradled it. 

            Lou flicked the pinky off the table.

            The laughter continued and the man with the soft voice sank back into the smoky shadows.

 

copyright (c) 2007 L. Pontius

Mr. Woof says: The Stones were right, sometimes you can't always get what you want. And one final thing, this isn't me...but I do know the man who did it. Later in his life, he discovered ball room dance. That almost cost him his life...but that's a different story.

It's the Interest That Will Kill You

His nose exploded with blood. My knuckles hurt. And that made me mad. I pulled him by the lapels closer to me, and I slammed my head into his. His head snapped back, spraying his blood on me. I dropped his body, it landed with a thump. He moaned.

I kicked him. "Geez. Did you have to bleed on me? God dammit. I really liked this shirt." I kicked him again, this time in the ribs. I heard one break. "This is like my favorite shirt. This blood will never come out." He was coughing. I wasn't sure he heard me so I leaned down, and pulled him by an ear, "Did you hear me? This blood will never come out."

I reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Inside, a twenty. A lousy twenty. "How the fuck do you live like this?"

He grunted. "Credit."

I stomped on a knee. He screamed. "Shut up," I said. I turned away and sat in a folding chair. I pulled my handkerchief out of my breast pocket and I dabbed at the blood stains. It just smeared it. I shoved the handkerchief back in. I stared at the mess of a man on the floor. He was moaning. Groaning. And bleeding. He was a broken man. Under the florescent light his blood had a purplish color to it. It was kinda funny, in like a Hollywood horror film sorta way.

The backroom was used for private parties. Normally, parties that didn't need good lighting. Alright. Parties involving drugs and hookers. We didn't care what things looked like. We were just there for the t and a.

Ralph. The mess of a man on the floor was a former client. He used to come into the club every night. Spending lots of cash. Making 'friends' with everyone. Sure. I called him a friend. He dropped a lot of money into my business. Everyone likes friends like that.

Then. Well. Ralph thought himself a bit of a ladies man. Which is alright, I got no problem with that. I didn't. The boys didn't. The girls at the club, well, they liked his cash. But. Ralph's wife. She seemed to have a problem with his ladies man like ways. Kicked him out of the house. Sued for divorce. Took everything. Soon, well, soon, the ladies left Ralph too. But that didn't mean he lost us as friends.

I get it. Sometimes you need a little helping hand. Friends should help out friends. And. Ralph made me laugh. He had a funny squeaky voice. It was funny. He told good jokes too. So, when he came to me to ask for a loan...it was hard to say no.

I shouldn't have mixed friends and business. Pop did that once. He lost a finger.
Ralph told me, "I just need the money for a month, just to get things back in order, just too...you know...put things right. I'll pay you back no problem."

I shrugged. I wasn't sure, "How much you need, Ralph?"

"Two thousand."

"Two thousand is a lot of money to pay back in a month."

"I'm good for it, I am, I promise."

"You keep your promises?"

Ralph nodded quickly.

"Alright. But understand. I take you at your word. In a month."

"I'll have your money."

"You had better."

I'm sure you can guess: Ralph didn't come up with the money. But that didn't bother me all that much. In fact. It didn't surprise me. In my business...well...in one of my businesses, you expect people to not pay you back. That's why you charge interest. That's why you charge a lot of interest. That's where the money is. Just ask any bank or credit card company. It's the interest that'll kill you.

I took a sip from my glass, it was hard work, beating the shit out of Ralph. In those mob movies it looks easy, but it's just fucking stunt men and sound effects. It's hard work.

It turns out that Ralph was robbing Peter, or me, to pay Paul. In this case, Stew, another...business man...across town. That's what pissed me off. My money was going to Stew. I like Stew, he's a nice guy...but...I know how my business works, and with Stew in the picture, I ain't ever going to see any returns on my investment.

Ralph was living the high life on my money...and I guess Stew. But fuck Stew. I got to Ralph first.

I stood up. I rolled Ralph onto his back. He looked up at me with red orbs that used to be brown eyes, blood rolled down the sides of his face, he smiled with a mouth full of broken teeth. It's like a water melon cracked open.

He whispered, "Are you going to kill me?"

"I'm thinking I might have to. I have a reputation to protect."

It looked like Ralph smiled. Who can say really?

"You've caused me quite a problem, you know. You got Stew involved, you owe me a lot of money. And you're a friend. You know that don't you? You're a friend of mine."

Ralph's tongue played at his lip.

"Why did you do this to me, Ralph? Why did you put me into this position? I hate being in positions like this. I gave you the money because you said you would pay me back. You know the kind of guy I am."

Ralph closed his eyes. I put my shoe on his chest and shook.

"Wake up!" His eyes snapped open. "Answer me."

His mouth moved before any words came out of his mouth. "Look. I'm sorry. Let me go. A favor."

I leaned down to him, "A favor? Are you kidding me? Another one?"

"Yeah."

I shook my head. But I was tempted. I was really tempted. It's not that my heart was going out to a human being. I'd hurt lots of people, people who had crossed me or my business. So, it wasn't the breaking of bones or the spilling of blood that...well...that got to me. This was a friend. We had some laughs together. "This is all your fault, you know. I'm not doing this to you, you did this to you."

His eyes were losing focus. I shook him, "Ralph! Stick with me!"

Ralph smiled. It was an ugly smile. The smile turned into a low throaty laugh.

"It's been a good month. I had the best hotel room. Good view. A few hot women. I lived like a fucking prince!"

I bent down and grabbed him by his coat "All you had to do was pay me back! Just that. You got anything left? Anything?

He shook his head, "Doesn't matter, I owe Stew too."

"You little shit, I could have protected you from Stew. I just need something. Something to prove that you're a good guy, that you mean to pay me back, something to save your life!"

He shook his head, it just flopped from side to side. "That wasn't the point, I knew it was going to end like this...I just wanted some...I just wanted to feel like a player."

"Dammit. You know this is it, right?

"I'm going out in style. People are going to talk about me."

"You're going to serve as a warning."

He laughed, blood boiled out of his mouth, he swallowed it. He laughed and he laughed. It was something in that laugh.

I lifted my foot and it came down on his head. With a crack, Ralph stopped laughing. Fuck him and his good view. I wiped my shoe clean on his body. I went out side, into the club, with its noise, its sweat, its stink of sex, and told my boys to get rid of him, Ralph. A schumck. An idiot. Who didn't know when to stop spending money.

I sat in my booth, with its duck tape covering the rips, one of the broken down waitresses put my jack and coke on the table. My hand shook as I reached for the glass.



copyright (c) 2007 L. Pontius

Mister Woof says: The strange and the extraordinary don't just happen in books. Sometimes they happen to you. Sometimes someone offers you a trip of a life time. Which ones do you choose? How can you know which one is the right trip?

The Lady in the Tank

Terry groaned, "Why this summer?" He shoved his hair back away from his face. It immediately flopped forward.

"Cause you're eighteen now."

"It's just a number."

His mother sighed, "It means something, Terry. It means you're becoming an adult. And that means you need to have responsibilities."

"Whatever." Terry stared into the soda can.

"Don't whatever me. I've taken care of you by myself—." Terry had heard this before. He started chugging the soda. "I've sacrificed so you could have some of the things you wanted. Now—well—now it's time you worked for the things you want."

Terry belched, a long one. Then, "I'll look for something."

"I called your Uncle Waldo—"

"Shit."

"Don't you use that language in this—"

"Uncle Waldo? Mom?"

"He needs help. He's not doing well."

"He's creepy."

"Terry. He's your uncle."

"Not really."

"Close enough. He's your uncle and he's not doing well and he's got things for you to do."

"Mom. I want to do what I want to do."

"No. Not anymore. It's time to grow up."

"Fine. I'll look for a job."

"Oh, no. I know you, Terry. You would spend all summer looking for a job." She knew she had him. As much as Terry didn't want to go see his uncle, his mom knew he was too lazy to find his own job. The silence was broken.

"Fine. I'll go work for Waldo."

"Uncle Waldo."

"Uncle Waldo."

"Good. He wants to see your tomorrow. Around eleven."

"ELEVEN?"

"Eleven."

Terry chucked his can into the sink and slunk back into his bedroom. To his room and his comics. The Galactic Battle of good and evil waged on.

* * *

The next day his mother woke him. Terry's skin was covered in sweat. He had been dreaming. It began innocently enough but then it had turned into something else, something he couldn't remember. He just had a feeling of being tricked, and a feeling of dread. He ducked into the shower, cleaned up and headed into the kitchen, the dream now forgotten completely.

His mother plopped a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice in front of him. Terry picked up the spoon and started randomly smooshing the cereal into the side of the bowl, creating mush.

"Terry?"

Terry looked up at his mother pushing the hair out of his eyes. The two of them looked at each other for a moment. Blink. Terry looked down at his cereal and started to eat.

* * *

It was about a mile to Uncle Waldo's, and on bike and in the Florida heat, it felt like forever. When Terry got there he was drenched. The house was more like a compound. A small run down house upfront with a large yard filled with signs, trucks and gadgets, rotting and peeling. Waldo used to own a traveling carnival. A freak show to be exact. As a kid, Terry had been terrified by the stories of giants, bearded ladies and half people. And now behind the house were the rusting decaying bits of that history. Terry dropped his bike in the front yard and made his way up the porch step to the front door. He wiped the sweat from his face and then knocked.

Inside he heard a grunt. Then the crack of a chair. And then the shuffling with labored breathing of feet. The door swung open. Facing Terry was a tiny man, about a foot shorter, rugged looking, his skin weathered by time and sun. He was mostly bald with only a few wisps of white hair. His hands were large and beefy. This was Uncle Waldo.

"Terry! How the hell are ya?" Uncle Waldo reached up and hugged Terry, who just patted him on the back. "I'm glad you're here, I got a job for you. Simple. Easy. You got a driver's license, right?"

Terry's eyebrows twitched. "Yeah. Couple of years now."

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Time flies. Time flies. Follow me." Uncle Waldo led him through the maze that was the house, filled with newspapers, old posters and knick knacks from a lifetime of wandering the country. "It's all set up. All you have to do is drive it."

"Drive it?"

"The truck."

They were outside. There in the center of the carnival junkyard was a truck. In a previous life, the truck used to sell ice cream. Waldo had bought it years ago, repainted it a mish mash of red, yellow and blue with 'Uncle Waldo's Freak Show A Rama' on the sides. The trunk had retired to the compound before Terry was even born. Its paint was now peeling, and dirt hid it's once vibrant colors.

"The truck." Uncle Waldo threw Terry the keys. "I need you to make a delivery."

"Where?"

"The ocean."

"The ocean? That's like five hours away."

"Yup."

"That's impossible, I can't go that far." Terry gave the keys back.

"Sure you can."

"Mom would kill me."

"Nah, nah. I'll take care of it."

"I've never gone that far by myself." Terry looked at the truck and then turned to Uncle Waldo, "Look I thought you wanted me to clean up stuff around here."

"What needs cleaning?" Waldo looked up at Terry, his eyes squinting in the sun. "It's hot, isn't it? Come in, let's get some lemonade. Let's talk."

Back inside, in the kitchen, Uncle Waldo cleaned some newspapers off the table and threw them on the floor. He reached in a low cupboard and pulled out two glasses. Terry sat down. Waldo moved to the refrigerator and ducked inside. Terry heard jars and bottles rattle and Uncle Waldo reappeared with a pitcher of lemonade. He filled the glasses to the top and handed one to Terry. Waldo paused and then took a swallow of lemonade. "Terry..."

"Yeah?"

"This truck. The trip. It's very important."

"If it's so important—

"Why don't I do it?"

Terry nodded. He sipped from the lemonade.

Waldo sighed, "It's difficult to explain. Let's just say I'm not able."

"Able?"

"Able...I can't do it. Not in the 'I can't drive' able or whatever...I just....I can't bring myself to do it."

"Do what?"

Waldo shook his head and took another sip. "I hate to do this—you're a good kid. I'm asking you to trust me. I'll tell you what you need to know...but I don't want to tell you everything. Because everything you won't believe. So—let's just leave it at this—I need you to drive this truck to the coast—to some beach. To a pier or something. Close to the water. Nobody can be around. Open the back door then get back up front. And wait."

"For what?"

"You'll know."

"You want me to drive—and just open the doors?"

"Yeah."

"Is this legal?"

Waldo laughed loudly. "Yeah. I ain't asking you to break the law."

"What's in the back?"

Waldo got quiet, "That's the part of everything you won't believe."

Terry drained the lemonade.

"So, Terry, will you?"

"I really don't think I should."

"Terry..."

"What? I don't think I should."

"I'm not asking you to go to Mars or something, I'm asking you to go to the ocean, and then turn around and come back."

Silence.

"It sounds kind of weird."

His uncle put up his hands, "Yeah, yeah, I know. But...look. It's very important to me. I'm getting older and there's stuff I need to have...Look. You're right, things need to be cleaned up around here. This is...something I can't get rid of...but I need to get rid of? Get it?"

"I do."

"Good. Good. So, I need you to do it."

Terry looked at his Uncle, "How much?"

"How much? How much do you think?" Uncle Waldo's eyes narrowed.

"Two hundred?"

"Two hundred? What are you trying to do, rob me?"

Terry held his ground, "Who else is going to do it?"

"One fifty."

Terry thought for a moment. He looked out the window at the truck sitting there alone. He wondered what might be in it. He turned back to his Uncle, "No. Two hundred."

"Fine."

"Half now, half when I get back."

His uncle looked at him for a moment. Then he began to laugh. "You've learned something from me. Good. Good. Always get something up front. Alright. Deal." He held up a beefy hand, Terry took it. His Uncle's grip was strong. "Oh. You coulda asked for three hundred."

Terry grimaced.

"Oh, and one more thing?" Terry looked at him. "Don't look in the back."

Terry nodded. "What about mom?"

"Don't worry, don't worry. I'll talk to her. No problem." He took the keys out his pocket and slid them across the table towards Terry.

Terry put his hand on them.

* * *

Terry climbed into the truck. From behind him, within the truck cab he heard a low hum. Like some sort of machine. He turned and looked at Waldo. "Don't worry about it." Terry nodded. He started the motor and it shook to life, a layer of dirt fell away from the exterior. He wiped the sweat from his face and pushed back his hair. Again, he looked at his Uncle. "What?"

"Are you sure I should do this?"

"Why not? You're young. See the world a little. You're getting paid for it."
Terry had run out of questions. He had never driven any where this far on his own. His hand shook as he put the truck into drive.

* * *

Two hours into the trip he had already stopped three times. Gas. Pee. And some food. He realized he could do all three at once, but he decided it was just for the best to stop when he felt like it. At the third stop however, as he was finishing a hamburger, he realized he hadn't gotten very far. He knew he needed to push himself. So he climbed back in and decided he wasn't going to stop again until he had too. He knew he could get to a beach by early evening, he'd be back it late but he'd make it back. He hoped his mother wouldn't be too angry. Uncle Waldo had a way with words, but still.... Terry thought, she called Waldo, she'll have to live with the consequences.

He smiled. He was beginning to like driving alone. It was almost like freedom, he decided. Freedom enough. Freedom for now. He wished freedom came with an air conditioner though. At least he had a radio. He kept turning it up, to cover the noise in the back of the truck.

It was the hum that worried him the most. It was always there. Did it run off the truck battery or one of its own? Terry wondered if his uncle had lied.

Terry looked at the car next to him, passing him on the left. It was a dark blue convertible with the top down. Sitting at the wheel was a woman with blonde hair whipping in the wind. She had large black sunglasses which covered her eyes and wrapped around her head, a black tank top and red athletic shorts. Terry would glance at the road ahead and then back at the girl as the convertible slowly passed the truck. He could see she had gotten a lot of sun, a very even tan. Or maybe not, Terry thought, she could probably afford one of those paint on tans. Terry looked at her chest, the road, her chest, the road. He thought he could see sweat on her chest, sliding down...

He slammed on the brakes.

An RV had appeared on the road. The girl and the convertible slide forward down the highway as Terry inhaled deeply, keeping a firm grip on the wheel. He got into the left lane, passed the RV. The convertible was way up a head. Terry knew he couldn't catch up, so he just kept driving.

That's when the tapping started.

* * *

At first Terry wasn't sure if he heard it. He thought it was in his head. Once he realized that it wasn't in his head, he thought it must be the truck. The engine or something mechanical. Terry got worried. He didn't know anything about cars or engines or anything. He was miles away from home if the truck was breaking...he wasn't sure what he should do. Freedom began to suck. The tapping was regular. It was just noticeable. Terry realized it wasn't coming from the engine. It was coming from behind him. From where he wasn't supposed to look. Terry looked straight down the highway. The tapping continued. He kept on driving

It was getting louder and louder. Soon it was all Terry could hear. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Terry pulled the truck over to the side of the road. Tap-tap. He turned off the motor. Tap-tap. It wasn't the car. It came from the back. He got out of the truck and walked a little from the road. He realized he needed to piss. He looked down the highway and didn't see any cars coming, so he opened his fly, and knowing his mother would disapprove, started to pee. That must be all that it is, Terry thought. I just needed to go. He laughed to himself. Finished, he zipped up and walked back to the truck. As he stepped into it, he heard it again, tap-tap. Terry stepped out, breathing heavily. He wasn't sure what to do. He stood still.

He heard a car coming down the highway. It was a small economy car. Terry watched it approach. He could see the driver. He saw the driver see him. They watched each other as the car passed. Terry waved. The car kept going. He was alone again, with his tapping.

This is stupid, he thought. He kicked a rock off the road. Terry walked to the back of the truck, to the double doors. He looked at them for a second. He thought about his uncle. He thought about the tapping. Waldo won't ask, and if he did—I just won't tell him, Terry thought. He grabbed the handle, turned and pulled it open.

The inside was dark and the setting sun didn't give much light. Terry peered in. The hum was louder and towards the back, so Terry stepped in. It looked as if everything had been cleared out of the truck, leaving just a bare shell. Tap-tap. In front of him. Terry stepped further in. His eyes began adjusting. He could see something in front of him. A large tank. Terry stepped again. A large tank of water. He moved to the tank. He put his fingers to the glass. It was cool. The hum. The water was being cooled.

Thump. Terry flinched.

Sitting there in the tank, under the water, was a woman. She was smiling at Terry. Her hands were against the glass, matching Terry's. Brown hair floated around her head. Her dark eyes glittered. And she was naked. She tapped again.

Terry fell on his ass.

She started to laugh. Or it looked like she was laughing, Terry couldn't hear her underwater. And then she moved and twisted away from the glass. Terry saw, and he realized now what his uncle meant, Terry saw the tail of a fish. He had seen a mermaid. And he was not happy.

* * *

"Who are you? Is this some sort of gag?" Terry was pointing at the lady in the tank. Words were pouring out if his mouth, "This isn't funny. Really. You scared the shit out of me. This isn't funny at all. You can tell that to my uncle."

The lady was pointing to the top of the tank. She was still smiling. Terry paused in his rant. He saw what she was pointing at. The lid. How was this woman breathing? Must be an air hose or something, he decided. Terry moved the latch and opened the tank. The lady surfaced, water slid away from her body, down her skin to her scales as she rested on the side of the tank. Terry began to realize this wasn't a woman in a costume. He started shaking.

"What's your name?" Her voice was smooth, simple and inviting.

Terry stopped. "Terry."

"Terry. That's a nice name."

"Th-thanks."

"I'm Miranda."

"Miranda?"

"Yes."

"How...how....Were you holding your breath?"

"Holding my breath?"

Terry struggled to keep focused. "Yeah. Yeah. In the tank. Were you holding your breath? I mean...when did you close the lid? You must have been under there for...?"

Miranda flicked the water of the tank with her tail, a large wave splashed Terry. "I was breathing just fine, Terry. The water is lovely."

"So...you're um..."

"Yes."

Water was pouring down Terry onto the floor. He kept watching her. She smiled. Terry couldn't help but smile in return.

"So, Terry...where are we going?"

Terry's mouth opened, then closed. He realized no words came out.

She waited.

"Um. The ocean."

Miranda slipped back into the tank, swirled around and resurfaced, putting her elbows on the edge of the tank and her head in her hands. "You're a little freaked out, aren't you?"

Terry nodded.

"Yeah. I'm not surprised. I get that a lot."

"Do you?"

"Yes. Well, used too. Didn't Waldo say anything about me?" Terry shook his head. "No. No, I suppose he wouldn't. He used to shout about me...up and down the midway. Terry. I was his biggest star!"

"Really?"

"People would come from miles away to see me. Miranda the Mermaid! Beauty of the Sea! Half human, Half Fish, ALL WOMAN"

Terry got up and left the truck. "Terry?" He sat down in the dirt beside the truck. "Terry? Where are you?"

"I'm here."

"I can't see you."

Terry nodded, "Yeah."

"Look. Can we talk?"

"Uh-huh."

"Could you come in here?"

Terry struggled to his feet and stood at the back of the truck. He didn't go inside. Miranda was looking at him. Terry felt his chest warm. She spoke, "So...what did Waldo want you to do?"

"Uncle Waldo wanted me to take you to the ocean."

"Uncle?"

"Family friend. Been one since I was a kid."

"But he didn't mention me?" Terry shook his head. "Some friend." Miranda laughed. "So he was hoping that the lure of the ocean would be too much for me."

"Too much?"

"He's trying to get rid of me."

Terry's chest tightened, "Why would he want to get rid of you?"

Miranda's eyes widened, "Exactly. Why would he? I have no idea." Miranda look at Terry, he stopped breathing. "Do you want to get rid of me?"

Terry shook his head.

"I didn't think so either. Come here."

Terry stepped into the back of the truck and approached the tank. He felt almost drawn to her, his earlier surprise and fear were beginning to leave. He was standing close to her. "I want to show you something."

Terry looked at her.

"It's alright. It's something...neat."

"What is it?"

"Why are you so suspicious?"

Terry shrugged, "I don't know."

"It's something magical. It's something mermaids can do. Take my hand."

"What?"

"Take my hand."

Terry was suddenly really aware of her nakedness. He turned his face away.

"No. Don't turn away. This is something to see." Terry looked at her again. Miranda's eyes were so black and intense. When she looked at him, he felt like the only one in the world. "Take my hand." He did.

At that moment a strange thing started to happen. Miranda began to change. She sighed at first and then moaned. She began to breathe faster, deeper....a groan came from her body. Terry tried to pull away, she gripped him more tightly. She looked into his eyes. She shook. She smiled. Terry looked down her body. The scales were beginning to disappear, almost fading away or retreating back into what was becoming skin. The tail, now flesh colored, split in two. Legs began to form...shapely legs. Strong legs. Terry went back to her eyes, as Miranda put a hand on his cheek.

"When we touch, I can become like you." She kissed him on the cheek. Terry looked at her. He had been kissed by the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Today was going really well.

"Now what?" He asked.

"Now we should have dinner."

* * *

Terry was holding a black dress in front of her. Miranda was eyeing it very carefully. "Turn it around." Terry did as he was asked. She bit her bottom lip. "I don't know."

Terry's shoulders slumped. "It was the best that I could do. I don't have a lot of money on me, and it's not like I could bring you into the store."

"A little nudity never hurt anyone."

Terry looked at her, desperate.

"I'm kidding, Terry. You've done well. It'll be just fine. Besides it's not the dress that matters, it's who's inside it. Take my hand." Terry moved towards her. Touching her hand, the transformation began...Miranda seemed to enjoy it immensely. And before his eyes, Terry was holding the hands of a very beautiful and very naked woman. He helped her out of the tank and for the first time was standing face to face with her. Miranda had a strong body and was slightly taller than Terry. Water dripped onto the floor as Terry held her hand staring at her. "How are you, Terry?"

"Wonderful."

"Yes. I can see that. Help me on with the dress."

It took some work, holding hands, but they got the dress on. He handed her two black shoes with heels. Miranda's eyes twinkled with approval. Miranda moved her free hand through her hair, styling it quickly. "Done. Shall we see what's for dinner?"

Terry opened the truck and led Miranda out. Miranda stumbled for a moment, and quickly recovered. "It's been awhile..." She smiled. As did Terry. "So, where are we going to eat?"

"Right here." Miranda looked. They were in a parking lot of a steak and seafood restaurant. Locally owned. It had a simple sign befitting the simplicity of the place: Steak and Seafood.

"Seafood, Terry? Perfect." She squeezed his hand.

He opened the door. Inside it was busy with couples over fifty. Men with bellies and women with fleshy arms, all topped with white and grey hair. Silence fell over the room as the door closed behind Terry and Miranda. Eyes turned and looked, and then snapped away. Miranda pulled Terry to the Hostess, a short pudgy woman with a brown beehive placed on top of her head, with a brown uniform.

"Two please." The hostess was staring. "Excuse me? Two?"

The hostess blinked, "Two?"

Miranda nodded. "Yes." Terry chuckled.

The hostess reached for the menus without taking her eyes off of the couple. "Um. This way." The hostess turned away slowly, leaving her eyes on the couple until the last moment. And then she was off, swaying back and forth.

A wave of silence followed them as they arrived at a table in the corner. As they sat, stretching their arms across the table to hold onto each other, Miranda smiled at the rest of the patrons. The restaurant returned to their conversations, though muted. The hostess placed menus onto the table and disappeared.

Miranda leaned forward, "Interesting place."

"I didn't have much choice. There isn't a lot around here."

"It's fine." Miranda squeezed his hand and then looked at the menu. Terry kept looking at her.

A waitress appeared. She was young by the standards of the customers, but she was still ten years older than Terry. She placed down two glasses of water. The ice tinkled in the glass. "Do...you...you know what you want?" She looked down at them uneasily through thick glasses.

Miranda looked up, tilted her head and smiled, "Could you give us a minute, we just sat down."

"Um. Yeah." The waitress paused for a second. And then departed.

Terry cleared his throat, then, "I don't eat out often."

"Hm?" Miranda looked up.

"I said I don't eat out often. It's just my mom and I...and well. Mostly we just eat at home. Sometimes we go out to eat, mostly on special occasions. Like birthdays. One time I took her out to eat. It was a little more than I thought it would be. She had to help me with the bill. But it was good. I think she had salmon or something. But. Mostly. We eat at home. She cooks."

"Terry, I want to thank you."

"For what?"

Miranda looked around the room. Then back at Terry. She was playing with his hands. He liked it and smiled. "I've been in that tank for a very long time."

Terry frowned. "How old are you?"

"A word of advice: don't ask things like that of a woman."

Terry blushed. "Sorry. Sorry."

"It's alright." She was massaging his hand. He blushed further. "I met Waldo during the War."

"Really?"
The waitress returned. "Do you know what you want?"

Miranda turned to her, "What's your name?"

The waitress's eyes bulged slightly, "What?"

"Your name, what is it?"

The waitress blinked several times, and seemed to have been lost. Finally, "Samantha. Sam. Samantha."

Miranda smiled and tilted her head, "Fine. Sam. I'll have the Shrimp with French fries. And a Diet Coke."

Sam wrote the order down in tiny writing. "Do you want a salad with that?"

"Yes. With a light dressing."

"We have—"

"Whatever you think is fine with me. Terry, what do you want?" Miranda and Sam the waitress looked at Terry.

"I'll have the steak with fries. And a coke."

"Salad?"

"No."

Sam nodded, looked at both of them and then disappeared. Miranda took a sip from her glass as Terry watched.

"How did you meet my Uncle?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I'm curious."

"Terry it was a long time...it's the past, let's talk about the future."

"Please?"

Miranda looked down for a moment and then up at Terry. "Well. It was during the War."

"You don't look that old."

Miranda glared at him.

"Sorry."

She continued, "My sisters and I—"

"Sisters?"

"Yes. Of course. You don't think I'm the only one, do you?"

Terry shrugged.

"When war broke out in the Atlantic my sisters and I were curious. Very curious. After all the stories we had heard we had to find out for ourselves. Terrible machines that were used for war. The worst of all were the submarines. Charging through the water. We lost many of our own people to those dreadful things...the ocean was at war. With strong young men risking their lives for whatever they believed in. My sisters and I, well, we followed what we could... Look do you really want to hear about this? It isn't a very nice time."

"I want to hear about Uncle Waldo."

"Waldo was a sailor on a destroyer. Did you know that?"

Terry shook his head.

"Well. He was a sailor on a destroyer in the Atlantic. His ship was assigned to protect a convoy of material headed to England, which of course, the Germans wanted destroyed. I had followed this convoy from America across the Atlantic. I had seen some men on the deck that I thought were...very attractive. So, I tagged along. It was difficult keeping up, but you learn tricks.

"So, it was at night. The sky was covered with clouds—"

Sam was back with two plates in her hands. She put down the shrimp and the steak. She nodded and left.

"What happened?" Terry dug into his fries.

Miranda squeezed his hand again. Terry looked at his steak and wondered how he was going to eat it with one hand. He frowned.

"The Germans attacked. Struck the destroyer with a torpedo amidships. BOOM. It was so loud." Miranda sucked on a shrimp. "Fire broke out, the alarm sounded. Soon, they all began to abandon ship. One by one they jumped over the sides. Waldo leapt right into my arms." Miranda picked up another shrimp. "You should have seen your Uncle's face. I don't think he had seen a woman in a long time, let alone someone like me." She bit into the shrimp. "He was dirty and scared. I took him in my arms and I swam. As the Navy was out looking for him, he talked to me all night. He told me about his Uncle's traveling circus. He asked me if I wanted to join him. He promised riches beyond my dreams. And the places I would get to see. How could I say no? We figured out how to meet after the war was over. And that's how I came to join his little show."

Terry stared at her. He sipped his coke.

"And now he's trying to get rid of me. He promised me riches beyond my dreams. Promised me." She was pointing at Terry with a shrimp. "What I got was sitting in a tank for ten hours a day as men and women gawked at me. Have you ever been gawked at? It's not fun. And riches? No. Cities, no. Nothing he promised I got. I had no freedom"

"If you go back to the ocean, you'd have your freedom again, you could swim where ever you want."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "The ocean? Terry, it's a cold dark miserable place, with stupid parents and raw fish." Terry laughed. "I'm not joking. The ocean isn't as wonderful as it is up here.... all the lights and music...In the ocean, everyone is just the same, mermen and women just swimming around. There's no excitement, no celebrities, no fashion. Nothing."

Miranda leaned in. "Haven't you ever wanted to dance under the moon?" Terry shook his head. "Have you ever wanted to climb a mountain?" Terry shook his head. "What do you want?"

"I'm only eighteen."

"Eighteen?"

Terry nodded.

"That's no excuse. Not any more." Miranda shoved the last of her shrimps into her mouth. "Terry. Tonight. We are going to dance under the moonlight."

Terry swallowed. "But I need to get back."

"You are hours away from home, you are out with a beautiful woman, and all you are thinking about is going home? Terry, you are FREE. I'm FREE for the first time in years, I am finally FREE. We're leaving now."

"What about the bill?"

"Oh, yeah. You got any cash?"

* * *

Outside in the parking lot, next to the truck they were dancing. Music was coming from radio. Swing. Terry had never really liked swing, but it was the only thing that Miranda liked as he scanned through the stations. She took his right hand and placed it in the small of her back, and took his left in her right. She nodded and then began to sway. "Just look into my eyes." And so he did. Terry didn't step on her feet once. She leaned in close and her smell overwhelmed him. It was the sea. Clean. Tremendous.

"HEY. What are you doing?" A police cruiser had pulled into the parking lot. A beam of light slammed into them. Terry turned. The lights hit his eyes, and he threw up his hands to block out the light.

Miranda whimpered and fell to the ground. She began to twitch and transform. The cops were out of the car in a flash, "Get back, get back!" But, Terry ignored them and turned to Miranda, whose legs were beginning to form back into a tail. Terry grabbed her hand and held tightly. Miranda gasped. Her face relaxed and she smiled, looking into Terry's eyes. The transformation had stopped.

The cops pulled Terry away, and he fell to the ground. Miranda reached for him, but he was too far away, so she grabbed the cop as he leaned down, "What's the matter, ma'am? Are you ok? Do you need--?" He was tall and lean, with short black hair.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." She held him around his shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. "I was just a little woozy."

"Woozy, huh?"

The other cop, a short bulky blonde, turned to Terry. "What's been going on here?" He pulled out a notebook, not taking an eye off Terry. The cop pulled him to his feet. He looked up at Terry. "What's been going on?"

"Nothing. Nothing. We just had dinner."

"Uh-huh."

The other cop picked Miranda off the ground and walked her towards the squad car.

"Where is he taking her?"

"She's just going to answer some questions. Now, tell me, what's going on here?"

Terry thought for a minute to tell him the whole truth but then realized the cop wouldn't believe him. "We had dinner. And we were out here dancing." Sweat was coming down Terry's face.

"What's your name, son?"

"Terry."

"Terry, that woman over there...how is she related to you?"

"We were just dancing—"

"Yes. In a parking lot. A pretty young kid, in a parking lot, with a beautiful woman, who collapses the moment we show up. You don't think that's suspicious?" The cop raised an eyebrow, "How is she related to you?"

"She's just a friend."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really." Terry's voiced cracked.

The cop put his hands on his waist. "Just a friend. Pretty attractive friend you got."

Terry nodded.

The cop rubbed his forehead. "Son, is she a...is she a working girl?" Terry frowned. "Where did you find her, son?" The cop looked up, thinking. Then: "Terry, did you pay for her?"

Terry's jaw dropped. "No. She's a friend. She's a friend of mine. We had dinner. She wanted to dance."

The cop raised his hand. Terry stopped talking. The short cop walked over to his taller partner, who was chatting up Miranda, still holding her hand. They were laughing. The short cop tapped him on his shoulder, the taller cop waved him off. The blonde cop tapped him again, this time he looked down at his partner. The little cop conferred in the ear of his partner.

Miranda looked over at Terry, she nodded and smiled. Terry was jealous.

The cops discussed the situation in muffled tones. Both kept looking at Miranda, who would smile, then back to Terry, from Terry back to Miranda, then back into each other. Their secret meeting ended with a quick nod. The blonde cop came over to Terry.

"Alright. We're letting you guys go."

"Thanks."

"Yeah. Look. No more dancing. Just...you know."

Miranda and her cop were shaking hands. Her head was tilted, she was smiling. The cop held onto her hand, he was massaging it gently.

"Huh?" Terry looked at diminutive cop.

The cop bit his lip. "Just be careful." He turned away. Terry followed, moving closer to Miranda, who was still being chatted up by the tall cop. They were laughing.

"So, I was at the wheel and Neil here—"

The blonde cop opened the door of the cruiser, "Tom. It's time to go."

"I'm just in the middle of a story."

Miranda looked at Terry.

Neil, the small cop, hissed, "Let's go."

Tom turned to his partner, letting go of Miranda. Terry quickly took her hand. "I'm telling her a story—"

"I know which story you're trying to tell. Just stop it. Ma'am, I'm sorry for wasting your time."

The taller cop sighed and moved around to the driver's side, "I was NOT wasting her time."

"It's a stupid story." Neil slammed his door.

"Only because you look stupid in it." Tom closed his door. The car moved away with Neil staring straight ahead and Tom glancing back at Miranda, who waved.

She turned to Terry, "Well, that was fun."

"FUN?"

She put a hand on his cheek. "Yes. Fun. Come on, let's go." She pulled him towards the truck.

"Wait, wait." Terry stopped. "What were you and that cop talking about?"

"We were just chatting."

"About what?"

Miranda looked at Terry. He had butterflies in his chest. "Terry. I was just telling him that I was a mermaid and that you had been enlisted by your uncle to dump me into the ocean."

"You didn't."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Of course not. We were just chatting."

"About what?"

Miranda moved close to Terry. She leaned towards his ear. "Tom and I were having a chat. Nothing more. Ok? Nothing that you need to be jealous of. Let's go."

Terry slowly took a step and followed Miranda to the truck.

* * *

"We could head north. It's been such a long time since I've been above the Mason Dixon line. Oh. I would love to go to New York. Have you ever been to New York?" Miranda was talking. Terry focused on the road. He was getting tired.

Terry shook his head.

"Oh, you would like New York. I remember when we were there in the sixties. Well. Not really THERE. We were in Brooklyn. I could see it glowing at night. Waldo only let a few of us to go into the city. He would never let me go. He was always afraid I wouldn't come back. Some of the more...normal...looking freaks, they got to go. But, I never got to walk the streets of New York. I never got to go up the Empire State Building. I never got to Macy's. Come on, Terry. Let's go to New York City."

Terry glanced at her and then shrugged.

"What's the matter?" Miranda giggled. "Just find a road that goes north."

"What were you saying to that cop?"

Miranda moved her hands up Terry's shoulder, she played with his ear, and then leaned in and whispered, "Adventure, Terry. Freedom. All you could ever want...let's just keep going."

Terry gripped the wheel.

"Terry. What's the matter? Don't you want to go?"

He looked at her, and for the first time realized how close she was. "I do. I do want to go. But..."

"But, what, Terry?"

"Do you want to go with me?"

"Yes." She paused. "Come on, you have a car. You're young. You can go anywhere."

"I don't know..."

Terry saw a sign, 'De Leon.' A small town. With a beach.

"You don't REALLY want to go home, do you Terry? Come on, with me you can see the whole country, the whole world?"

Terry looked at her.

Miranda smiled, her voice low, her mouth close to his ear, "Remember what it was like to dance with me...at night...outside under the stars..."

Terry nodded. The exit was coming fast.

"How did it feel?"

Terry grinned.

"That good huh?" He nodded. Miranda continued, "Terry. Come with me to New York."

"Well..."

"What would you like to go and do in New York? Isn't there something that you always wanted to do?"

"I guess I would see the Empire State Building. I've never been in a building that tall before."

Miranda looked out the window. The stars were out. "You can see for miles and miles up there. Even in the summer it can be chilly up there, it's so high. What else?"

Terry thought for a moment. "Maybe a Yankees game." He paused. "Times Square. I want to see Times Square."

"That will be the first place we go. Times Square."

"Get some roasted peanuts?"

"Get some roasted peanuts, yes."

They were quiet for a second. Then, Terry spoke, "Where would we live?"

Miranda shrugged, "We'll live anywhere we want. We'll stay up late, get up late. Really see the city. Make something of ourselves."

"Really?"

"Of course, Terry, of course. All we have to do is keep driving."

Silence. Terry gripped the wheel.

Miranda spoke slowly, "I'm offering you excitement...I'm offering you a chance to do whatever you want...just keep driving."

"I...I don't know what I want to do." They were almost to the exit.

Miranda became hard, "All I want is my freedom to do what I want. I was trapped in a tank for sixty years...I finally have a chance to do what I want and some little kid wants to stop me."

"That's not fair."

"A real man would take me. A real man would jump at the chance." Miranda moved in, "That cop wanted to take me."

"What?"

"That's what we were talking about. Going to New York."

The exit was close.

"So Terry. You have a choice. Be a man, and go to New York, live. Or go home to mommy."

Terry took the exit.

"Stop this truck, Terry. You stop this truck." She started pounding Terry's arm. He blocked as best as he could without letting go of the wheel. Miranda pulled at his hands. "I will not go back, I will not go back! You don't know what it's like down there, Terry. There is nothing!"

Terry spoke softly, "I can't go. I just can't. My mother would kill me."

Miranda reached for the wheel. The carnie truck began to swerve on the empty streets as they wrestled for control. Terry slammed on the brakes and the truck slid to a stop.

They were at the end of the road. In front of them was the ocean. And just to their right was a bar, a shack really. It had been assembled from different bits of lumber. The door was mostly broken, but it held onto the door frame. There was classic rock blaring from inside, voices and bottles being knocked over. On top of the bar was a hand painted sign: Neptune's.

Miranda looked at the sign. "Perfect." She shook her head.

Terry pulled at her, "Let's go."

"I told you, I'm not going back."

'Then what?"

"I'll go into the bar. I'll find someone else to take me—"

"A bigger man?"

"Yeah. That's right. Tell your Uncle you dropped me back in the ocean, tell him whatever you want. Just let me go inside."

Terry nodded. Miranda started to move, Terry tugged at her hand. "You know...I would still...New York does sound exciting...but."

Miranda smiled.

They climbed out through her door and onto the beach and moved to the door. Before they could enter, out flew a middle aged drunk, who fell in front of Terry and Miranda. The drunk was followed by a large man. The biggest man Terry had ever seen. He was a wall of muscle with blue jeans, a wife beater. The tattoos and long grey beard completed the picture. His voice was broken glass and whiskey, "Come back when you got money." The drunk struggled to his feet and moved quickly away. The large man looked down at Terry and growled, "Where do you think you're going, squirt?"

"Uh..in?"

"Not unless the law has changed." The man squeezed his massive fists together. Terry heard his knuckles pop. Terry swallowed.

Miranda let go of Terry and stepped forward and touched the man's arm. She looked up, her teeth sparkled, "Oh. He's just joking. He was just dropping me off."

The man looked back at Terry, "Just dropping you off, huh? What are you coming here for?"

Miranda patted his arm, "I'm here so you can buy me a drink."

His eyes narrowed, and then relaxed, "Sure. Just leave your...driver outside." He started moving her inside.

Miranda stopped him. "Just a second." She turned back, "Terry?"

"Yes?"

Miranda kissed him on the lips. It was soft. And cool. And tasted like the world.

The man growled. Miranda turned to him and they walked in together. Terry watched as the door closed behind.

He stood for a second. In the background the ocean crashed against the beach. He nodded, then turned and walked to the truck and climbed in. Terry breathed deeply. He started the truck and it rattled to life. He put the truck in reverse and turned it around. Looking back once at Neptune's, he put the truck into drive and headed back to the highway. Back home to the comics, his Uncle Waldo. Back home to his mom. And now, he needed to find a new job.


The end


copyright (c) 2007 L. Pontius

Mister Woof says: Don't listen to them, crime does pay. But sometimes, crime comes between two friends. But business is business.

At The River's Edge

Darkness. At edge of a river that flows through the city. Water, gentle, flows by. Only source of light: from the city up above. Pin points of window light. And moonlight. Sharp source of moonlight.

Two men. Trench coats. Hats. Sharp dressers. One has a gun. The other, hands raised, is walking backwards over the rock and broken glass.

"Neil, Neil, man don't do this." Floyd is shaking. His throat is tight.

"Shut up, Floyd, just shut—"

"For the love of God—"

Neil smacks Floyd across the cheek with his gun. Floyd stumbles. He scoots, Neil keeps moving forward. Floyd puts up his left hand as he stands.

Neil speaks,"Shut up. I don't want to...look—just be quiet. I'm trying to figure away out of this."

Floyd stutters, "You don't have to this—"

"This point is: I do. And I don't want to, but I have to, that's what I'm trying to figure out: how not to."

Floyd nods. "I don't want to die."

Neil exhales. "Yeah. I get that, I get that."

Floyd stops, Neil raises his gun. "Why don't we just run?"

Neil aims the gun, "Don't. Just don't."

"Fuck you, Neil, fuck you." Floyd puts his hands on his chest. "This is my life."

Neil steps forward, "And it's mine, if I don't...you know..."

"Kill me."

"Yes."

"Rub me out."

"Yes."

"Make me disappear—"

"YES. Fuck."

"Feed me to the—"

Neil hits him across the same cheek with the same gun, Floyd falls to the ground again, "You are NOT helping yourself."

Floyd spits. "I'm bleeding!"

"What?"

Floyd stands, "Fucking A, I'm bleeding. I'm bleeding. I'm bleeding."

Neil scratches his face, "So what?"

Floyd looks at him, "It's a new suit."

"Why the hell does it matter?"

Silence. Then, Floyd opens his mouth and speaks quietly, "I don't want to die in a dirty suit." Neil laughs, Floyd joins in, and it echoes briefly around the River's Edge and then dies away. More silence.

Neil sighs, "I can't figure a way out."

"Neil."

"You fucked things up since the beginning."

Floyd steps backwards, his feet are touching water, "We can run."

"I don't run."

Floyd shouts, "Neil, DON'T. Please."

"It's either you or me."

"Aren't we friends?"

Neil blinks, "Fuck you, Floyd. Don't say that bullshit."

"Bullshit? Bull—are you kidding me?"

Neil cocks the pistol, "It's either you or me."

"So why me?"

A pause. Neil bites his lip. "Because I don't want it to be me."

"Neil—wait—!"

A flash of blue white light.

Then darkness.

A splash.

Neil breathes uneasily. His throat is tight. He turns away. He stumbles away, putting the gun in his coat pocket.


End.


copyright (c) 2007 L. Pontius

Mister Woof says: Just because you have slept with someone, doesn't mean you know who they truly are...Actions have consequences, becareful who you trust...

Doug's Day Out

Sweat stung his eyes. Squinting, he wiped it away as he held the pistol close. He was holding his breath, trying not to make a sound. From where he was hiding, he could see the stairs out of the basement. The door was closed, with a strip of bright white light at the bottom. Shadows moved across the bottom of the door, he took in some air. He pointed his gun at the door, taking aim, saying a silent prayer. The shadow feet stopped at the door, forming a Morse code of line, dot, line, dot.

A female voice, soft, "Doug? Are you down there?"

Doug relaxed, he moved from his hiding place and went to the bottom of the stairs. "Katie. What are you doing here?"

The door opened, Katie stood at the top of the stairs, looking down on Doug. She was in her early twenties, petite, and raven haired. There was a slight halo behind her—the sun shining into the kitchen.

Katie took a step down the stairs, "I was looking for you."

"Stop. You really shouldn't be here. They are watching this place."

"I didn't see anyone."

Doug licked his lips, wiped the sweat from his forehead and rain his fingers through his hair. Doug was in his forties, his blonde hair was becoming a dull grey, his baseball body was becoming a little flabby. And his knees hurt in the morning. "Katie, really, go home—."

"I'm not going home—."

"This is dangerous. These guys aren't kidding around. They want to kill me."

Another step down. "I've got my car out front, I've got all my money in cash. We'll leave, go somewhere they can't find us."

"What do I tell my wife?"

"Fuck your wife, Doug. Do you care about her or me?"

Doug put his hands to his head. Everything was happening so quickly for him. He wanted time to think, to talk this out. "Doug!"

"How much money do you have?"

"A thousand."

Doug took a step up. "Maybe a thousand will do."

"Do?"

"Yeah. Maybe, maybe I can turn into a few more—."

Katie turned away, "We aren't going to use my money to make anymore bets—"

Doug, taking a few more steps up the stairs, "It's the only way out!"

"We can run, Doug, we can run where they can't find us!"

Doug was moving up the stairs now, "They will always find us—they want money or my life. I can do this, I know a sure thing."

Katie shook her head, and turned away, pushing the door to the basement closed. Doug pushed it open, following her, trying to grab her, desperate to stop her. She turned the corner, into the living room, towards the front door.

"Katie!"

Doug turned the corner. He stopped. They were there. Three men in black suits. Katie stood behind them. Doug began to shake. The gun was suddenly very heavy, he couldn't lift it if he were Superman.

Quietly, Katie spoke, her voice tight, "They offered a lot of money, Doug."

The men moved forward, Doug dropped to his knees.

"Why didn't you just leave her, Doug? We could've been long gone."

The men didn't allow Doug to answer, the first blow landed across his face. Doug saw blackness and heard nothing...


End.

copyright (c) 2007 L. Pontius