Read Online Hunger and Thirst by Wayne Wightman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Wayne Wightman
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gaunt arms like a mantis.
Passively stepping back, to one side then the other, Natalie seemed to be talking to the ragged woman who awkwardly stalked her one uneven step at a time.
All in a single fluid motion, the woman raised her arms to full height to fall on Natalie, and Natalie made an underhand sweeping gesture with her right hand. Everything froze. Then Natalie went about stooping and picking up her finger bones.
Jack's mouth had gone dry.
Natalie put her shoulder to the woman's midsection and easily hoisted her up. Jack had no idea she was that strong. She walked perpendicular to the highway perhaps a hundred yards — Jack could only guess. He watched her shrug and the body dropped out of sight onto the desert floor.
“Please...,” he said under his breath.
He watched Natalie lean over the body. He could barely see her above the scrub. Then she stood up and started back to the house. Jack moved out of her line of sight.
When he came to the rock where she had put the mesh bag, he stopped, looked down at it, then snatched it up. Green tumbleweeds clung to it, leaving shredded bits stuck on it. Jack stalked back to the house, dropped the bag on the counter, and waited.
....
Natalie entered grim-faced. Her eyes registered her bag on the counter and then focused on Jack, who stood in mid-room, his hands in his pockets. He didn't look at her.
“I didn't have a choice,” she said.
“You killed that woman with the hunting knife and she knew you were going to do it — like you kill the rabbits.”
“She was out of her mind and she was coming back.”
“Why was she coming back?”
“I didn't ask. Perhaps to kill us. But whatever her answers, they would all lead me to the same conclusion.”
“You killed her two friends. You didn't turn them loose.”
“As long as they knew we were here, they were a danger. Now they're not.” Natalie's face became grief-stricken. “Jack... please don't....”
“You lied to me.”
“You knew I was lying.”
Jack walked in a tight circle and pressed his hands against his face. “I did know.”
“I'm not going to let bad things happen to us because I've extended kindness to psychopaths. We let that one live and she came back. She was too stupid to live.”
“I watched you just lean over and... whatever you did, you did it easily. Do you kill everyone you meet out there and take their stuff? Is that why we have so much? How many people have you killed?”
He hadn't seen this face before: she was grieved, nearly desperate: “I tried to talk to her, even though my bones told me it would be useless. She threatened us. I wasn't going let her go and see if she was bluffing.”
“When all three of them were here, they had us cold, they had you bleeding — but I wasn't in any danger? Really?”
“No, you weren't.”
Jack let himself fall back on the sofa.
“You weren't. You needed to see what you could do.”
“That was for my benefit? We were nearly killed — I thought we were nearly killed — as an educational experience?”
“We weren't nearly killed. Consider who you were before and who you were after.”
As roiled as his thoughts were, he knew she was right. He was different afterwards; he felt stronger, more competent. He took a breath.
“The woman out there today — your bones said it wouldn't do any good, but you talked to her anyway. Why? Because you knew I'd be watching? Because it would make a better impression?”
Natalie said nothing.
“If you knew I'd be watching, did you know we'd have this conversation? How does it turn out? How much do you know? Do you know if I'm going to leave? Do you know when? Tell me.”
She was shaking her head.
“How many people have you killed?” He didn't want to ask it but that was what he most wanted to know.
“Don't ask me that.” Natalie turned away and held her face with her hands. “Don't ask me that.”
He went over to her and turned her by her shoulders to face him. She was hot and
Passively stepping back, to one side then the other, Natalie seemed to be talking to the ragged woman who awkwardly stalked her one uneven step at a time.
All in a single fluid motion, the woman raised her arms to full height to fall on Natalie, and Natalie made an underhand sweeping gesture with her right hand. Everything froze. Then Natalie went about stooping and picking up her finger bones.
Jack's mouth had gone dry.
Natalie put her shoulder to the woman's midsection and easily hoisted her up. Jack had no idea she was that strong. She walked perpendicular to the highway perhaps a hundred yards — Jack could only guess. He watched her shrug and the body dropped out of sight onto the desert floor.
“Please...,” he said under his breath.
He watched Natalie lean over the body. He could barely see her above the scrub. Then she stood up and started back to the house. Jack moved out of her line of sight.
When he came to the rock where she had put the mesh bag, he stopped, looked down at it, then snatched it up. Green tumbleweeds clung to it, leaving shredded bits stuck on it. Jack stalked back to the house, dropped the bag on the counter, and waited.
....
Natalie entered grim-faced. Her eyes registered her bag on the counter and then focused on Jack, who stood in mid-room, his hands in his pockets. He didn't look at her.
“I didn't have a choice,” she said.
“You killed that woman with the hunting knife and she knew you were going to do it — like you kill the rabbits.”
“She was out of her mind and she was coming back.”
“Why was she coming back?”
“I didn't ask. Perhaps to kill us. But whatever her answers, they would all lead me to the same conclusion.”
“You killed her two friends. You didn't turn them loose.”
“As long as they knew we were here, they were a danger. Now they're not.” Natalie's face became grief-stricken. “Jack... please don't....”
“You lied to me.”
“You knew I was lying.”
Jack walked in a tight circle and pressed his hands against his face. “I did know.”
“I'm not going to let bad things happen to us because I've extended kindness to psychopaths. We let that one live and she came back. She was too stupid to live.”
“I watched you just lean over and... whatever you did, you did it easily. Do you kill everyone you meet out there and take their stuff? Is that why we have so much? How many people have you killed?”
He hadn't seen this face before: she was grieved, nearly desperate: “I tried to talk to her, even though my bones told me it would be useless. She threatened us. I wasn't going let her go and see if she was bluffing.”
“When all three of them were here, they had us cold, they had you bleeding — but I wasn't in any danger? Really?”
“No, you weren't.”
Jack let himself fall back on the sofa.
“You weren't. You needed to see what you could do.”
“That was for my benefit? We were nearly killed — I thought we were nearly killed — as an educational experience?”
“We weren't nearly killed. Consider who you were before and who you were after.”
As roiled as his thoughts were, he knew she was right. He was different afterwards; he felt stronger, more competent. He took a breath.
“The woman out there today — your bones said it wouldn't do any good, but you talked to her anyway. Why? Because you knew I'd be watching? Because it would make a better impression?”
Natalie said nothing.
“If you knew I'd be watching, did you know we'd have this conversation? How does it turn out? How much do you know? Do you know if I'm going to leave? Do you know when? Tell me.”
She was shaking her head.
“How many people have you killed?” He didn't want to ask it but that was what he most wanted to know.
“Don't ask me that.” Natalie turned away and held her face with her hands. “Don't ask me that.”
He went over to her and turned her by her shoulders to face him. She was hot and
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