Read Online An Incidental Reckoning by Greg Walker - Free Book Online
Authors: Greg Walker
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clothing was pasted to his body from the drenching in the stream, he couldn’t add up these events to equal the taking of a human life. But there was the body, down below, lacking the life to animate it.
“Jon! Come on! We have to get rid of his bike. We’ll tell Jim he left, maybe that a ranger had come around and he got scared. He’ll believe that over us killing him.”
Will ran ahead, back to the campsite. Jon looked after him, and saw that the Amish boy had sat up but appeared disoriented, holding his hands to his head. Jon followed slowly. He considered running, but his thigh hurt his shoes had transformed into concrete blocks. And then a figure appeared, traveling down the camp road. Minus the buggy and walking, but still wearing the Amish hat.
Chapter 6
Will had reached the bikes and now straddled Chris’ motorcycle. He hadn’t seen Jim, who quickened his pace, then broke into a trot. Jon tried to call out, but only managed a hoarse croak. He waved his arms but Will wasn’t looking, had raised himself up over the bike while holding the handle bars, then fell on the starter and the bike roared to life.
Jon watched as Jim produced a gun from somewhere in his clothing and came up behind his friend. He put the gun to Will’s head, and Jon closed his eyes, not wanting to see. He didn’t hear the pop, not sure if he could over the noise of the motorcycle and risked a glance up.
The Amish kid stared at the men. Jim hadn’t fired but still kept the gun pressed against Will’s temple. He reached around him and turned off the bike, and then Will dismounted; directed by Jim, he lay face down on the grass. Jon had stopped, about fifty yards from the campsite, looking stupidly at the scene before him. Should he run away? Would Will die no matter what he did? He felt so tired, wanted to lay on the grass and sleep, and maybe when he woke up, all of this would have passed him by and he could go home. But he couldn’t leave Will.
“Hey! Jon isn’t it? You need to come over here. Going to kill your friend if you don’t. Good, that’s it. Come on.”
Jon stumbled towards the group, and then with a flare of anger forced himself steady, made his legs obey, mustered what dignity he could find and finished the forced march until he stood ten feet from Jim.
“All right. Good. Now where’s Chris?”
“I killed him.”
“The hell you did. I’m not messing around here, gentlemen. Where is Chris?”
“Dead,” he answered. Jon had no desire to lie, doubted he could get away with it. Jimbo’s demeanor had changed. The façade of friendliness had fallen away and his hard and unblinking stare pinned him in place. He projected a potential for violence; no, the certainty of violence, sometime soon. Probably now.
Jim swung the gun away from Will and pointed it at him.
“He’s in the stream. Back there. I’ll show you if you want,” Jon said, trying to keep his voice steady and failing. He knew he would beg if it came to it and worry about whatever shame that brought at some future point.
Jim stared hard at him, and finally let the gun drop.
“All right, show me. But first we need to take care of the Amish, here.”
Jim crouched down next to Isaiah, who was staring at his hands. Blood had crusted on his face, and Jon could see a goose egg on the side of his head near his temple. He looked alert enough now and didn’t seem that he’d suffer any permanent damage.
“Can you hear me? Do you understand English?”
They boy didn’t look at him but nodded. Jon felt sorry for making fun of them earlier, the Amish. Sitting on the ground and bleeding, he looked just like any other scared kid.
“I’m going to let you go. I left your buggy about a mile up the road. Damn horse stopped and I couldn’t get him going again.”
Jon thought he caught a small smirk on the boy’s face, and nearly giggled. He looked over at Will,
“Jon! Come on! We have to get rid of his bike. We’ll tell Jim he left, maybe that a ranger had come around and he got scared. He’ll believe that over us killing him.”
Will ran ahead, back to the campsite. Jon looked after him, and saw that the Amish boy had sat up but appeared disoriented, holding his hands to his head. Jon followed slowly. He considered running, but his thigh hurt his shoes had transformed into concrete blocks. And then a figure appeared, traveling down the camp road. Minus the buggy and walking, but still wearing the Amish hat.
Chapter 6
Will had reached the bikes and now straddled Chris’ motorcycle. He hadn’t seen Jim, who quickened his pace, then broke into a trot. Jon tried to call out, but only managed a hoarse croak. He waved his arms but Will wasn’t looking, had raised himself up over the bike while holding the handle bars, then fell on the starter and the bike roared to life.
Jon watched as Jim produced a gun from somewhere in his clothing and came up behind his friend. He put the gun to Will’s head, and Jon closed his eyes, not wanting to see. He didn’t hear the pop, not sure if he could over the noise of the motorcycle and risked a glance up.
The Amish kid stared at the men. Jim hadn’t fired but still kept the gun pressed against Will’s temple. He reached around him and turned off the bike, and then Will dismounted; directed by Jim, he lay face down on the grass. Jon had stopped, about fifty yards from the campsite, looking stupidly at the scene before him. Should he run away? Would Will die no matter what he did? He felt so tired, wanted to lay on the grass and sleep, and maybe when he woke up, all of this would have passed him by and he could go home. But he couldn’t leave Will.
“Hey! Jon isn’t it? You need to come over here. Going to kill your friend if you don’t. Good, that’s it. Come on.”
Jon stumbled towards the group, and then with a flare of anger forced himself steady, made his legs obey, mustered what dignity he could find and finished the forced march until he stood ten feet from Jim.
“All right. Good. Now where’s Chris?”
“I killed him.”
“The hell you did. I’m not messing around here, gentlemen. Where is Chris?”
“Dead,” he answered. Jon had no desire to lie, doubted he could get away with it. Jimbo’s demeanor had changed. The façade of friendliness had fallen away and his hard and unblinking stare pinned him in place. He projected a potential for violence; no, the certainty of violence, sometime soon. Probably now.
Jim swung the gun away from Will and pointed it at him.
“He’s in the stream. Back there. I’ll show you if you want,” Jon said, trying to keep his voice steady and failing. He knew he would beg if it came to it and worry about whatever shame that brought at some future point.
Jim stared hard at him, and finally let the gun drop.
“All right, show me. But first we need to take care of the Amish, here.”
Jim crouched down next to Isaiah, who was staring at his hands. Blood had crusted on his face, and Jon could see a goose egg on the side of his head near his temple. He looked alert enough now and didn’t seem that he’d suffer any permanent damage.
“Can you hear me? Do you understand English?”
They boy didn’t look at him but nodded. Jon felt sorry for making fun of them earlier, the Amish. Sitting on the ground and bleeding, he looked just like any other scared kid.
“I’m going to let you go. I left your buggy about a mile up the road. Damn horse stopped and I couldn’t get him going again.”
Jon thought he caught a small smirk on the boy’s face, and nearly giggled. He looked over at Will,
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