Page 87 of Ship Happens
No hesitation.
Well, there goes my last ounce of hope.
“Try twisting,” I say as I show her what I mean.
“Easy for you to say with a knife in your fucking hand.” She puts all of her weight behind the corkscrew as she twists to the right. Something pops, and she sinks down. The Cattle groans and turns his head. Frankie looks at me. “Shouldn’t he be dead?” she whispers.
“Why are you letting her win?” Bennett screams.
My gaze bounces between Frankie and Bennett. “Listen, you’ll need to hurry this up. There’s only so much stalling I can do before Bennett takesmeout on this picnic blanket.”
“Wait, you’re trying to let me win?” Frankie sits back, and her Cattle begins to sit up.
“Hey, you need to finish him off.”
“No. If I’m going to win this leg, I want to win fair and square.”
The dazed man looks at me, then down at the bloody man on my blanket. He blinks and then squints at the knife in my hand before looking down at the corkscrew rammed in his chest.
“Okay, but take him out before he comes around. You won’t stand a chance if?—”
Frankie places her hands on the man’s shoulders and lowers him to the blanket, and he complies without complaint. “First you don’t want me to kill anyone. Now I’m not doing it quickly enough. Make up your mind!” She slams her fist onto the corkscrew, and the man coughs up some blood.
“You, uh...It’s a lung shot. He’ll take a bit to die from that.” I step over my Cattle and slit his throat. Blood jets from his carotid and coats my chest in red. I look back, toward the start of the race. “Can I get a check?”
“Drat,” Frankie mutters as she tries to wrestle the corkscrew free. When tugging doesn’t work, she places her feet to either side of it to give her some leverage, and she yanks some more.
“Remember, sweetheart?” I turn my wrist, spinning the knife in my hand. “Give it a twist.”
She grits her teeth and looks up at me. “This is what I’m gonna do to your nuts later.” With that, she gives the tool another yanking, but with a twist this time, and it pops free. Blood trickles from the small wound.
Jim trots up and reconsiders kneeling to check my guy’s pulse. “Was the bludgeoning wholly necessary? So much blood. I’ll put my cleaners’ kids through college after this trip.”
A guttural scream comes from Frankie, and I turn in time to see her straddle the man and drive the corkscrew into his eye. “Why won’t you fucking die already?”
“You might have better luck if you flip him around and use the same force on his neck. Right at the base of the?—”
She yanks out the corkscrew and tosses it aside. “Do not mansplain murder to me, please.”
Jim stands up and nods. “He’s dead.” Then he raises the bullhorn, and right in my ear, he says, “Station four!”
Bennett tears past me, and I’m grateful because it means Jim aims the bullhorn away from my fucking ear. Whatever rules he lays down, I don’t hear them. I doubt I’ll ever hear anything again.
But then I do hear something. Female voices shouting and encouraging Frankie to keep going. As I peer down her lane, I see Cat, Kindra, and Eve jumping up and down and cheering her on. No wonder she wants to be part of this so badly. It’s the power of finding your tribe.
I turn back to Frankie. She’s abandoned the corkscrew in favor of the glass bowl the potato salad came in. As she smashes it beneath the blanket, then pulls out a large, sharp shard, I’m in awe of her resourcefulness. When she wraps the sharp edges with the cloth napkins from inside the basket, then drives the curved glass into his neck, I’m taken aback by her ferocity. It’slike watching your house cat tear the head off a bird. You know they’re capable of it, but you’re still fucking shocked when it happens in front of you.
Watching her face, I wait for the remorse to light her eyes. I study her and hold my breath as she eases the glass from his throat. Blood rushes out and coats her hands to the tempo of a heartbeat, and still the look on her face hasn’t changed. Then her lips curve into a smile, and she flops onto her ass.
“Amazing,” she says, and I recognize that look in her eyes. It’s the self-satisfaction after removing a filthy smudge from your window on the world. It’s the comedown after release. It’s the end of what you were and the beginning of what you will be.
And it’s all my fault.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Frankie
Water coils around the drain, washing the blood away. Such a shame. I loved the way it painted his skin seconds ago. He seemed eager to get it off, though, so I didn’t complain when he asked if I wanted to shower together.
