Page 49 of Slay Ride

Before them, a slew of randoms and unknowns took their turns, and most of it was pretty boring to watch. Amateurs, all of them. Now, only four bags remain on the table, and I’m nervous to see what Cat and I will pull. So far, we’ve seen the many usesof a tree topper, a nutcracker, a pair of scissors, and a DVD of the gripping 1994 filmThe Santa Clause.

As Kindra and Rose head toward the remaining bags, I steal another glance at Cat. She hasn’t looked at me a single time since that first time we locked eyes, and it’s driving me insane. She’s turning this into a dangerous game. I’m used to getting what I want, and where women are concerned, I’m not accustomed to hearing the word no.

Kindra and Rose step to the front of the class, and I’m forced to look away from Cat. If her best friend notices I’m staring, she’s liable to confront one or both of us about it. That’s one complication I don’t need.

“Looks like I get to use an ornament hook,” Kindra says as she holds up the tiny sprig of metal.

Maudlin Rose turns a piece of paper in her fingers, then holds it toward Kindra.

“Oh, you got the ax,” Kindra says. “It was too large to fit in the bag, so we just wrote it down.”

Ezra appears beside her with the ax and holds it toward Rose, who accepts it with a gleam in her eye. Then she turns and studies her Cattle with a frown. She prefers to kill men, and her victim is a woman.

“Do you want to switch?” Kindra asks, and Rose nods.

That’s the sort of kindness I’ll never understand. Kindra is already against the ropes, and forcing Rose to kill a woman could have given her an advantage. She basically handed her the win.

The women get behind their victims, but before Kindra can give the word to begin, Cat raises her hand.

“What are you, twelve?” I say. “You aren’t in school, Miss Novak. If you have something to say, just say it.”

When she scowls at me, I remember that I’m supposed to keep my mouth shut. She makes that difficult when she does dumb shit like raising her hand, though.

“You can alter the item, right?” Cat asks Kindra. When Kindra confirms, Cat stands and hands something to her, then whispers, “Good luck.”

Swallowing the urge to call the pair of hens a couple of cheaters is like choking on glass, but I manage.

When Kindra says they can begin, I expect Rose to start wielding the ax like a madman, but she doesn’t. She strolls around her victim, caressing his cheek with the blunt side of the ax head.

Meanwhile, Kindra is busy jacking off the world’s smallest dick behind her wheelchair. That’s what it looks like, at least. Whatever Cat handed her, she’s making use of it now, though I don’t think it’ll be of much help. When she raises the hook to her eyes and studies it, it still looks the same to me.

As Kindra bends over the woman’s neck and begins performing some weird sort of pseudo-surgery, Rose finally swings the ax overhead and brings it down between the man’s legs. Everyone with testicles immediately recoils.

Blood flows through the wheelchair’s thick canvas seat and patters on the tarp, forming a fresh puddle. The man shakes and jerks so violently from the pain that the chair topples backward. Despite the carpet beneath the tarp, his head makes a loudthunkas it strikes the floor.

Rose walks around her writhing victim and raises the ax as she looks down into his eyes. The man looks back at her, sucking air through his nostrils with such force that they keep slamming shut. He shakes his head, yelling, “No! No!” through those flaring nostrils. Tiny little Rosie just laughs her silent laugh and pretends to bring the ax down on his head, always halting the arc just before impact.

We’ve all stopped focusing on Kindra, so it comes as a shock when she requests that Jim check her Cattle’s pulse. The woman’s head lolls to the side, and she certainly looks dead,though I can’t see how Kindra killed her. Then I spot the red freshet burbling from the woman’s neck. The blood has slowed to a languid trickle, but that’s only because most of what was in her body now covers the tarp beneath her wheelchair.

Jim tips the woman’s head to the side, revealing a slim gash in the thin skin of her neck. After checking for a pulse in three places, he declares Kindra the winner. As he raises her hand in the air, Rose chooses that moment to hoist the ax and separate her Cattle’s head from its body.

With an elegant sidestep, Jim saves his precious Italian leather shoes from the encroaching red river. It’s a wonder no one has slipped by this point.

“Maybe we should swap out the tarp,” Cat says, almost as if she was thinking the same thing.

Or maybe she’s stalling . . .

She licks her lips and looks around, then resumes picking at the side of her thumb like she’s been doing for the last twenty minutes. Either she has one hell of a hangnail, or she’s about to shit herself with nerves.

“Thanks for the assist,” Kindra says as she tosses a nail file to Cat. “I never would have been able to get that blunt tip through her skin otherwise.”

“Only one pair left to do battle.” Jim steps over the red smears and puddles as he heads for his seat. “Just mind the blood and you’ll be fine.”

As the lackeys wheel the dead bodies away, I stand and head toward the two bags on the table behind the chairs. Cat hurries to join me, probably to be sure I don’t cheat by peeking in the bags. She knows me so well already.

She steps in front of me, and I catch a whiff of that fruity shampoo she uses. I close my eyes and allow myself a few milliseconds to enjoy the scent. Any longer and someone might notice.

“I like those boots,” I whisper near her ear. “Make sure you wear them when you come to my room.”

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