HUNTER (20 page)
Authors: Cordelia Blanc
The son of a bitch didn’t shoot. I wasn’t putting up a fight, I wasn’t protesting, I was just waiting. I couldn’t figure out why he was hesitating. Hell, he told me back in high school that he was going to kill me. Now, he was just standing there like an idiot.
“What are you waiting for, Roger?” I called out.
I felt like a total failure. I was letting America down. I was letting the world down. Worst of all, I was letting Kyla down. The sick bastard would shoot me, but he wasn’t going to shoot Kyla. He’d waited years for this moment, fantasizing about sticking his filthy cock in her. Whenever someone uttered the name Roger, I had to fight that horrible image of him jerking off in the bathroom from my head.
Roger Patrick never liked me. He thought I was a bad influence on Sammy, that Sammy was a good kid before he met me. Maybe it was true. That didn’t make Roger any less of a bastard. It wasn’t his decision; Sammy wasn’t his property or his responsibility.
I should have figured the pervert had eyes on Kyla—probably waiting for the crowds to die down so he could time his attack, rape her, dispose of her body somewhere. And fuck, he was successful. All he had to do was pull that trigger and Kyla was his to do what he wanted with. He had her all to himself, out in the woods, outside of town. I’m sure Kyla would put up a fight, but Roger was much bigger, much stronger…
All he had to do was pull that trigger.
Why wouldn’t he pull that fucking trigger? I couldn’t handle the anxiety any longer, like being stuck in that moment when you lean too far back in your chair and you aren’t sure whether you’ll catch yourself—only the chair in the case is on the edge of a goddamned skyscraper. “Roger, you fucking piece of shit, I hope you rot in hell.” I closed my eyes, thinking that would be enough for him to shoot, to get it over with.
Nothing.
He just stood there, motionless, upright, like the dumb prick he was, leaning against that tree with his finger on that trigger.
“Get out of here,” a voice called out. The voice wasn’t Roger’s. It was too far away to be Roger’s. I scanned the forest and noticed a man waving his arms. He was holding a long military-issued sniper rifle. “Go!” he yelled.
That’s when I noticed the blood pooling around Roger’s feet—lots of blood. His body wasn’t standing upright at all, it was slumped against the tree. The bastard was dead—a corpse with a rifle.
“Liam?” Kyla called out.
The figure moved closer. Sure as shit, it was Liam, with a military-issued magnum sniper rifle. There was still smoke billowing out the barrel of the weapon. I looked back over at Roger’s body, realizing it probably wasn’t just slumped against the tree, but it was probably pinned against it, too. Those magnum rifles were for stopping goddamned armoured tanks. The hole in Roger’s back must have been a foot wide.
“Get out of here. I’ll deal with this,” he said. His eyes were red. He kept them down at his feet, unable to look Kyla in the eyes.
“Liam, I’m so sorry,” Kyla said.
“Don’t be. I hurt you. I’m sorry. Now get out of here.” He still couldn’t look at her.
“Kyla, let’s go,” I said, taking her by the hand. That gun blast was loud enough to wake up half of Nintipi. It was only a matter of time before they came to investigate.
“Go,” Liam said again.
“Thanks,” I said. I didn’t know whether Liam had been following me, watching Kyla, or if he’d happened to randomly notice us fleeing town. But it didn’t matter one way or the other. He did the right thing. He didn’t just stubbornly do what some general told him to do. He wasn’t fighting for whatever the government wanted him to fight for. He didn’t care about protecting their dark secrets. Maybe he wasn’t such a piece of shit after all.
Kyla’s lips parted like she had something to say, but whatever it was, she didn’t say it. She turned and we trekked into the woods.
“People can change, Kyla!” he called out. “Don’t ever think people can’t change!” His voice echoed through the forest and then was gone.
We hopped on the train before the sun was up, and we were halfway to South Dakota by noon. How long would it take for them to realize Kyla was gone? How long after that before they figured she was taken? As far as we knew, they were already freaking out, looking for her. We had no way of knowing either way.
And then what would happen with the whole Black Knight scandal? Would the government be forced to admit the truth with Kyla and I out of the picture? Would they keep trying to cover their tracks.
Or was there never a Black Knight, never a raid in Al-Nukhib, never a roadside bombing in Iraq? Maybe that Meraux never existed. Maybe he was just an idea, some fucked up ideology. But why?
Maybe, high up in the military ranks, there was someone just like Sammy Boy, weaving complex scandals to make life seem more interesting than it really was. Maybe the Black Knight was just pipe insulating-foam, rigged with wires and light bulbs, being held over Al-Nukhib by some spray-painted kite. Wouldn’t that be something?
Whatever was going to happen, once we were out of Kansas, it didn’t even cross on our minds. If it had, we probably wouldn’t have fucked like damned rabbits all the way from Nebraska to the Canadian border.
I think Liam was right. People can change. Liam changed. Kyla changed.
And it occurred to me while I was fucking Kyla from behind, listening to her tits slapping together with each penetration, that even I changed. I kind of liked the idea of only fucking Kyla for the rest of my life. It didn’t hurt that she was the only girl I’d ever met that couldn’t just handle my cock. Not only that, she actually loved being slammed raw by the thing.
But was I changed? Or was that always what I’d wanted? Hell, I had a great time fucking half of Nintipi. It was a scary thought, leaving that all behind.
Kyla pushed herself off of my cock and rolled onto her back. She spread her thick, beautiful legs wide. “Hold them,” she said. I did.
It was the same exact position I’d fucked her in five years before. Judging by the sly smile on her face, she knew it too. “Fuck me,” she said. So I did. I watched her eyes slowly roll into the back of her head. I felt the warm juice swell up in her pussy, ready to gush as soon as I pulled out.
Fuck Nintipi and fuck all the other girls. Kyla was all I ever wanted and there wasn’t any sweeter pussy out there. There was something else about her, too. Something I couldn’t quite place. She made me feel warm, safe. My whole life, I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere. I didn’t feel that way with Kyla. It was the strangest feeling.
Shit, I guess I loved her.
THE END
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR CORDELIA BLANC
Cordelia Blanc is a writer from the beautiful Rocky Mountains of Canada. Her schooling years were spent absorbed in fantasy, writing everything from screenplays and comic books to short stories and overly ambitious novels.
Cordelia moved west to British Columbia where she worked for years in film, using the little free time she had on her writing. Her stories aim to capture the spirit of the prairies, the Pacific North West, and the Rockies. Cordelia doesn’t believe in good guys and bad guys, because every real human being is both.
While not writing, Cordelia enjoys relaxing by the fire and watching cheesy horror movies with her husband.
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