Page 8 of Dead By Dusk

But I don’t.

Instead, I throw my body to the side, tucking and rolling, landing on the balls of my feet. I remain crouched down and look at him as the metal spear hits the wall with aloudclunk. A small smile graces my lips before I grab the grounded weapon and test its weight in my hands. Rising to my full height, I rest the bottom of the weapon on the ground and tighten my hold on it. My eyes lock on him. And for the first time, uncertainty crosses his features as he watches me with curiosity, but doesn’t move from where he stands.

Uncertainty, fear, anger, and challenge. They all battle for dominance behind his eyes, and I let him decide which should win while I roll my shoulders and stretch my neck, rubbing the back of it with my free hand to try and ease the discomfort, to no avail. I widen my stance, my left foot slightly in front of my right to keep my balance. I ready myself for a fight, but he makes no move indicating that he wants to close the distance between us. It’s fine, it really is. Because honestly I’d love to swing first. Whether he expects it or not, holds no bearing on the fact that I’mangry. I’mfumingand I have something that this hunter seemingly doesn’t. Patience. Something you need while stalking any prey. Something that turnsmeinto the hunter instead.

He reaches for something behind him, and I hear the sound of metal sliding against leather as he slowly pulls a machete out of a holster strapped tightly around his chest and back. His dark, sinister smile matches my own. Though his is full of hunger as well. He swiftly rolls his neck, the sound of each pop echoes through the stillness around us. Then, he begins his approach.

Fucking finally,is my only thought before I grip the long staff, and I step forward, steady in my approach towards him. I don’t remember much, but my body does. My instincts are screaming at me in glee and my smile grows wider as the distance between us closes.

He gives himself away when he tightens his grip on the machete, his knuckles whitening with the pressure. His steps seemingly stutter as he bends his dominant arm slightly while walking toward me. They were small things, but I notice them enough to know he is preparing to throw his arm straight for a clean stab while also trying to protect his weaker side. Maybe someone else would find this smart. Swing swiftly and guard your weak side, but I find it to be nothing short of predictable. Boring, even.

I grip the staff with both hands, my arms slightly bent to my chest, keeping the staff parallel to the ground yet still close to me, and then swiftly lunge my upper body to the right, watching him and the world tilt as I straighten my arms. The sound of metal hitting metal rings out around us, and once the staff makes contact with the machete, I release the staff from my left hand and use my right arm to push the machete up and away from me, but to also swing the butt end of the spear in a circular motion until it hits the ground again.

The man begins to circle me warily, lightly tapping the hilt of the rusted and, now, damaged blade in his hand. A blade that gives the impression of having killed plenty of people before me. I decide to do the same as him. Circle and wait.

Watch.

Fear is what gets you killed, don’t just watch him. Observe,I tell myself, and it feels as if icy water rushes over every inch of my skin, washing away any doubt that had knotted in my body, even if only momentarily, and untying it in one swift tug.You do not die today.

Whatever moment of clarity I was having, I think he may have had one too. But instead of a similar icy calm washing over him like it had me, his realization seems to have lit him up. His clarity set him on fire and ignited his rage into an inferno behind his eyes. It’s then that he grabs the weapon with both hands,brings it above his head, and then slams it down in a quick, choppy movement. A blow that surely would have been deadly if it weren’t for my sidestep at the last second causing him to lose purchase. It wasn’t a lot, but it was just enough. He stumbles, and I use this opportunity to crouch down, brace my hands on the pillowy grass, and stretch my leg enough to swipe his feet out from underneath him.

His body slams into the ground with a loud thump. I see the way his chest puffs out. I hear his sharp intake of breath as the wind gets knocked from his lungs and decide to throw my body on top of his. Straddling his waist, I bring the staff to his neck and push down, constricting his airway. Call me sick or twisted but…

I kind of like the sight of a man at my mercy.

His eyes bulge as he lays there and stares at me, desperately fighting for the breath I won’t allow him to take. I push down harder. His eyes shift to the left in panic, and I see something else cross his face.Relief.It was so brief, it could’ve been nothing, but I don’t leave it to chance, pushing down harder and following his gaze. I see another man running toward us.Fuck. I need to think quickly and figure out how to escape this situation alive, chanting in my head once again,You do not die today,’before remembering the dagger in my pocket. The one that had been coated in familiarity.

Seconds.

I have seconds to make a move, and so when I reach into my pocket for the blade, I also shift my body closer to the man underneath me, laying my whole forearm against the staff, adding more pressure to his neck, while deftly flicking the blade towards the man running at us. I hit him square in his chest. I dart my eyes back to the man beneath me. His face has changed from flushed red to one underlined in a shade of purple. I could be cruel and drag this out, but instead decide I can’t waste anymore time if I’m to do as I was advised andrun.So instead, I readjust my position to its original one, ensuring both my hands are gripped on the cool metal on either side of his neck. Then I push. As hard as I possibly can, I force as much weight down onto the staff and watch.

His eyes go wide, his mouth gapes open, and a sharp intake of breath tries to enter his body. But it can’t. As his eyes flutter shut, I press my pointer finger to the side of his neck and feel as his heartbeat slows and slows and slows—and stops.

I slowly stand and give myself only five seconds to fully process the situation. To process the warning and the implications. I only give myself five seconds before I’m grabbing every weapon that has been thrown with the exception of the shitty, rusted and bent machete.

I may not trust everyone, but if only one person is guilty in that house…the others don’t deserve to die for one human being. They just don’t deserve it, and I will not allow myself to be the reason every single one of them is defenseless, and with that last thought, I’m walking.

I’m walking and deciding that I can’t look back. That I can’t risk waiting or sifting out the good from the bad. “You don’t have to come with me but you’re better off alone than with anyone in the house.”

That was the warning I was given.

That is what I will choose to believe.

I have to, even if it doesn’t feel wholly right. Even if it feels like a mistake leaving alone right now.

Three steps.

I make it all of three steps into the field when I hear a smallthumpand then a high pitched scream. A scream I’m already familiar with, yes, but one that neither of us can afford right now.

Run or save her from herself? Those are the two options that are running through my mind on repeat.Run? Orsave her from herself? Run…that option sounds extremely appealing. More than it should, yet I still find myself throwing my head up to the sky wondering why I’m okay with killing people but can’t bring myself to leave this woman I know nothing about.

Fuck, I can’t leave her here.

I run over to where she is and promptly do what the strong woman with the crazy eyes had done to me earlier. What was done to me no more than ten minutes ago—slam my hand against her mouth and push her against the wall. Practical, considering she’s maybe four inches taller than me? No. But is it necessary? Absolutely.

She’s hyperventilating, and her sweaty hands are grabbing my wrist trying to remove it from her mouth, but I don’t let her go. I shake my head no quickly and make a few harsh shushing sounds to get her to shut up. It’s only once she’s quiet that I remove my hands from her body and let out a deep worrying breath of my own, hoping that I didn’t make a mistake by coming back for her.

“We have to leave,” I say quickly and matter-of-factly, leaving absolutely no room for questions and then checking our surroundings quickly.

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