force the shotgun up.
Martha gets hold of the trigger and it barks and bucks, blowing a hole in the ceiling,causing debris to rain down on both our heads. I’ve got youth and speed, but she’s got size. Martha is latched onto the shotgun like a Doberman on a butcher’s bone. “Lying, no good…you’re just a lying no good…a liar, that’s what you are!” She tries to kick me in the balls, but can’t get the height; her foot deflects off the inside of my thigh instead.
It’s not long before Katia and Sonny are beside me. Sonny helps wrestle the shotgun from her and Katia lets loose with a sweep kick that plants ol’ Martha on her ass.
I draw my pistol and level it off at Martha’s head.
“Do it! Go on, you little snake in the grass! I shoulda finished you when I had the chance!”
“You remember when I told you we didn’t come here with ill intent?”
She doesn’t say anything. She just lays there beneath Katia’s boot, staring up at me defiantly.
“I meant what I said.” I lower the pistol. “Let her up. Give her back the shotgun.”
Katia looks at me like I’m crazy as she removes her foot from Martha’s chest.
Sonny drops the shotgun into her arms and then jumps back behind me.
“That’s a hell of a stunt you pulled.” Martha struggles to her feet.
“Call it a trust exercise.” I’m watching her closely; watching the barrel of the gun and the placement of her trigger finger. “You don’t shoot me and I don’t shoot you.”
She nods slowly, the fat around her jawline pooling with each dramatic tip of her chin. “Well,” she sets the shotgun against the ticket desk, “I dare say it worked.” Her belly shakes with laughter. She extends a chubby, ring draped hand. “Martha Turkins, pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“I’m Timmy. This is Katia and Sonny.”
Martha leans back against the ticket desk, next to her shotgun, arms folded across her stomach. “Lemme give y’all the nickel tour.”
9
It’s more like a penny tour. We make it to the second floor before I start to become dizzy and nauseous; the pain has become too much to ignore.
“Don’t be a baby.” Martha has cut my shirt away and is going after the pellets in my skin with a pair of tweezers from her medical bag .
“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing.” Katia sits beside me, wearing my hat and stroking my hair.
I wince as the tweezers yank another pellet free.
Sonny is outside walking the lot, making sure all the commotion didn’t attract the Rabid from the bottom of the mountain.
“My husband was like that,” Martha wipes away a fresh stream of blood with a balled up piece of gauze, “talked tough, walked tough, but show him a little blood and he’d turn to putty.” She shakes her head. “I loved that big-eared bastard. I miss him.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Katia says.
“Huh?” Martha looks up at her. “Oh, no, we divorced fifteen years ago. Came home one day and found him with his dick in the next-door neighbor. I just about killed the sumbitch. I split his lip and blackened his eye up good before he finally escaped through the backdoor. He came back the next day with the sheriff so he could pack his stuff. Guess he was afraid I was gonna lay another whoopin’ on his ass. I would have too, believe me, I would have.” She yanks another pellet from my shoulder.
The lobby appears to be Martha’s main living quarters. There’s a mattress, buckets of water, food stores, and enough guns and ammunition to hold off an army.
“How long have you been up here?” I ask.
“Since the beginning.” She rips the last pellet out and begins patching me up with a gauze pad and some tape. “There were four of us; me and three of my neighbors. We fought like hell to get up here. The road was clogged with them damn things. They were on every side of us the entire way up. Our truck stalled out on one of the bends and ended up rolling off into the woods. After that, everyone started
Martha gets hold of the trigger and it barks and bucks, blowing a hole in the ceiling,causing debris to rain down on both our heads. I’ve got youth and speed, but she’s got size. Martha is latched onto the shotgun like a Doberman on a butcher’s bone. “Lying, no good…you’re just a lying no good…a liar, that’s what you are!” She tries to kick me in the balls, but can’t get the height; her foot deflects off the inside of my thigh instead.
It’s not long before Katia and Sonny are beside me. Sonny helps wrestle the shotgun from her and Katia lets loose with a sweep kick that plants ol’ Martha on her ass.
I draw my pistol and level it off at Martha’s head.
“Do it! Go on, you little snake in the grass! I shoulda finished you when I had the chance!”
“You remember when I told you we didn’t come here with ill intent?”
She doesn’t say anything. She just lays there beneath Katia’s boot, staring up at me defiantly.
“I meant what I said.” I lower the pistol. “Let her up. Give her back the shotgun.”
Katia looks at me like I’m crazy as she removes her foot from Martha’s chest.
Sonny drops the shotgun into her arms and then jumps back behind me.
“That’s a hell of a stunt you pulled.” Martha struggles to her feet.
“Call it a trust exercise.” I’m watching her closely; watching the barrel of the gun and the placement of her trigger finger. “You don’t shoot me and I don’t shoot you.”
She nods slowly, the fat around her jawline pooling with each dramatic tip of her chin. “Well,” she sets the shotgun against the ticket desk, “I dare say it worked.” Her belly shakes with laughter. She extends a chubby, ring draped hand. “Martha Turkins, pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“I’m Timmy. This is Katia and Sonny.”
Martha leans back against the ticket desk, next to her shotgun, arms folded across her stomach. “Lemme give y’all the nickel tour.”
9
It’s more like a penny tour. We make it to the second floor before I start to become dizzy and nauseous; the pain has become too much to ignore.
“Don’t be a baby.” Martha has cut my shirt away and is going after the pellets in my skin with a pair of tweezers from her medical bag .
“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing.” Katia sits beside me, wearing my hat and stroking my hair.
I wince as the tweezers yank another pellet free.
Sonny is outside walking the lot, making sure all the commotion didn’t attract the Rabid from the bottom of the mountain.
“My husband was like that,” Martha wipes away a fresh stream of blood with a balled up piece of gauze, “talked tough, walked tough, but show him a little blood and he’d turn to putty.” She shakes her head. “I loved that big-eared bastard. I miss him.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Katia says.
“Huh?” Martha looks up at her. “Oh, no, we divorced fifteen years ago. Came home one day and found him with his dick in the next-door neighbor. I just about killed the sumbitch. I split his lip and blackened his eye up good before he finally escaped through the backdoor. He came back the next day with the sheriff so he could pack his stuff. Guess he was afraid I was gonna lay another whoopin’ on his ass. I would have too, believe me, I would have.” She yanks another pellet from my shoulder.
The lobby appears to be Martha’s main living quarters. There’s a mattress, buckets of water, food stores, and enough guns and ammunition to hold off an army.
“How long have you been up here?” I ask.
“Since the beginning.” She rips the last pellet out and begins patching me up with a gauze pad and some tape. “There were four of us; me and three of my neighbors. We fought like hell to get up here. The road was clogged with them damn things. They were on every side of us the entire way up. Our truck stalled out on one of the bends and ended up rolling off into the woods. After that, everyone started
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