Buddy Lee opened the driver’s side door.
Gerald Winthrop Culpepper fell to the ground like a sack of wet laundry. He was moaning and whimpering from a place deep in his broad chest. His khakis were so soaked in blood they appeared burgundy. Gerald pulled himself along the ground through the detritus that covered the forest floor. Buddy Lee pushed aside a clutch of brambles as he followed behind Gerald. Ike came up alongside them. Buddy Lee put his foot in the middle of the Gerald’s back and stopped his forward progress.
“Where you going, hoss?” Buddy Lee asked conversationally. Ike came around the back of the car. He had the .44 down by his side. Buddy Lee grabbed Gerald by his shoulders and flipped him over.
“Please don’t,” Gerald rasped.
“Don’t what?” Ike said.
“Please don’t kill me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Gerald said. His broad face was slick with sweat. All around them the gentle crackling of the flames filled the night, drowning out the natural sounds of the forest.
“Everybody sorry when they get caught,” Buddy Lee said.
“Please, I’m sick. I’m a sick man,” Gerald said.
“Oh, you sick? Why, because you liked being with Tangerine?” Ike asked.
“Yes! I need help!” Gerald gasped. Ike leaned forward and stared in the man’s bloodshot eyes.
“You think my son was sick? Or his son? Or Tangerine? You think they deserve to die because you can’t deal with who you are?” Ike asked. Gerald said nothing. Ike straightened himself.
“The funny thing is, if my boy was here, he’d feel sorry for you. If his son was here he’d probably forgive you,” Ike said. Buddy Lee opened his knife. It clicked as he locked the blade in place.
“But they ain’t here, are they?” Buddy Lee asked.
“No, they ain’t,” Ike said.
* * *
Ike and Buddy Lee threaded their way through the woods as they took the path back to the truck. They didn’t speak because there wasn’t anything left to say. Ike felt like he could sleep for a hundred years. His mind and body both felt as if they had been wrung dry. For the first time in a long time Buddy Lee didn’t want a drink. He didn’t want anything to dull this moment. Not one damn thing.
They came up on to the private road where the truck was parked.
The passenger door was wide open.
“Arianna?” Ike said.
“Little Bit!” Buddy Lee said. His heart hammered against his ribs. What if they’d done all this and then Arianna got lost in the fucking woods?
“She right here,” a gravelly voice said.
Grayson was standing in front of the truck. He had Arianna cradled in his left arm. His right hand was holding the .357. The barrel was pressed against her temple.
“Drop the guns,” Grayson said. His face was slathered in blood and dirt. Saliva spilled from his mouth in long silvery strands. The light from the half-moon made him look like the ghost of a true Viking—a phantom covered in face paint who’d escaped from Valhalla intent on spreading terror across the land of the living.
“Let her go,” Ike said.
“Fuck you. Drop the guns and toss me the keys.”
“The keys? Hoss, you don’t look like you could drive a fucking nail,” Buddy Lee said.
“I’m so fucking sick of you. Of both of you. Drop the guns. Toss the keys. Now. Or I’m gonna blow this little bitch’s head off,” Grayson said. His breath was coming in sharp bursts that made him grimace.
Nothing was said for a few painfully long moments.
“Ike, do what he says. It’s what my daddy would do.” Buddy Lee said. Ike stared at him.
Buddy Lee nodded.
“Yeah, boy, do what I say,” Grayson said.
Ike dropped the gun. Buddy Lee slipped off the rifle and laid it on the ground. Ike made a big show of digging around in his pockets for the keys. While Grayson focused on Ike, Buddy Lee slipped his knife out of his back pocket and palmed it as he stood up. As Ike rummaged around in his pocket Buddy Lee quietly opened the blade with his thumb.
“Okay, here’s the keys,” Ike said holding them up in front of his face.
“Toss them at my feet. Be careful. I’m feeling woozy. You don’t want me to slip and pull this trigger by accident,” Grayson said.
Ike tossed the keys. They landed just a few inches shy of Grayson’s boots. Grayson went down to one knee. He pawed at the ground with his left hand while keeping Arianna in the crook of his elbow. He gripped the keys and straightened himself. He took the gun from Arianna’s head and pointed it at Buddy Lee.