other. “What the hell is this?”
“Couldn’t say. Never seen it before.” Mack shifted, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle free of Theresa’s grasp. He looked over her shoulder at Willem. “Hey, you wanna get her the fuck off of me?”
“Not really.” Eyeing Mack thoughtfully, Willem took back the object from Theresa. “Why would they send you out with something you didn’t know what to do with, Mack? That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, now does it?”
“It’s a puzzle,” he agreed. “Maybe Stone knew. Never could tell what he might have been holding back. You saw the man. Madder than a bag of snakes, especially when he got into the hooch.”
“This is bullshit.” Theresa pushed Mack away roughly, stalking over to their collection of prisoners. She picked one at random. “Up!” she snapped. When the man hesitated, she gave him a helping hand via a clutch of his hair. Frogmarching him in front of Mack, she drew one of the blades taken from the hunters and looked down the line of it menacingly. “Tell me what it is right now or I’m taking this one’s eyes.”
“Theresa...”
“We tried it your way, Will! He’s playing you! He’s playing you and you’re letting him!” She looked back to Mack. “This one’s eyes,” she continued. “The next one, it’ll be his ears. After him, the next man’s tongue. Then I’m really going to start getting creative, and you’re going to have to stand there and see every pleading gaze, hear each and every one of them blubber and beg for you to save the parts I’ll take.” She yanked the man’s head back, leveling the point of the blade against the corner of his pinched eyelids. “You say these are your men now? Prove it!”
The man she had chosen started shaking at the knees. Like Paolo, he was of the younger set. A wet patch blossomed over his groin, growing larger in diameter by the second. “Please, Mack—sir—this isn’t what I signed up for.”
Mack stood by impassively, utterly unmoved.
“Please!”
“Sorry, son. Can’t tell ‘em what I don’t know.”
“Sorry, son,” Theresa mocked as she raised the knife above her head theatrically, ready to stab it down. “You heard the man—”
“Theresa!” Willem had her in his sights, his finger poised over the trigger. Grace lifted her rifle to cover Theresa; Lucas lifted his against Grace. In a matter of moments, the entire company was locked in a tense and uncertain standoff.
“God damnit, Will,” Theresa hissed through gritted teeth, holding the blade in mid-strike. “This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be!”
“You’re right,” he agreed, “but it’s the way it is.”
Mack’s drawling guffaw didn’t cut the tension so much as slam down upon it like a hammer. “Will, is it? So much for Lucas, I guess. Either way, you’re alright. You get your hellcat there to take her knife off my boy, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
Willem wasn’t sure who to be more angry with: Mack for putting his own man’s life at risk, or himself for dividing the group over it. Swallowing his anger—and a good dose of pride—he lowered his rifle. “Hear that, Theresa?”
If Willem was angry, Theresa was downright livid. “You actually believe that shit?!”
“Well, look at it this way,” he offered, “it’s not like that one’s eyes are going anywhere. If this doesn’t play out you can strip them for all the parts you like. I won’t try to stop you.”
The others stood their ground resolutely, a powder keg waiting to go off at the slightest provocation from either side. It all hinged upon how Theresa responded to Willem’s overture. She stood taut as a bowstring, every muscle in her body screaming out for action, for her to plunge the knife into the knock-kneed hunter at her side and take him apart piece by piece. She flexed her fingers around the handle, lifted the blade higher… then let her arm fall harmlessly to her side. With it went the rest of
“Couldn’t say. Never seen it before.” Mack shifted, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle free of Theresa’s grasp. He looked over her shoulder at Willem. “Hey, you wanna get her the fuck off of me?”
“Not really.” Eyeing Mack thoughtfully, Willem took back the object from Theresa. “Why would they send you out with something you didn’t know what to do with, Mack? That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, now does it?”
“It’s a puzzle,” he agreed. “Maybe Stone knew. Never could tell what he might have been holding back. You saw the man. Madder than a bag of snakes, especially when he got into the hooch.”
“This is bullshit.” Theresa pushed Mack away roughly, stalking over to their collection of prisoners. She picked one at random. “Up!” she snapped. When the man hesitated, she gave him a helping hand via a clutch of his hair. Frogmarching him in front of Mack, she drew one of the blades taken from the hunters and looked down the line of it menacingly. “Tell me what it is right now or I’m taking this one’s eyes.”
“Theresa...”
“We tried it your way, Will! He’s playing you! He’s playing you and you’re letting him!” She looked back to Mack. “This one’s eyes,” she continued. “The next one, it’ll be his ears. After him, the next man’s tongue. Then I’m really going to start getting creative, and you’re going to have to stand there and see every pleading gaze, hear each and every one of them blubber and beg for you to save the parts I’ll take.” She yanked the man’s head back, leveling the point of the blade against the corner of his pinched eyelids. “You say these are your men now? Prove it!”
The man she had chosen started shaking at the knees. Like Paolo, he was of the younger set. A wet patch blossomed over his groin, growing larger in diameter by the second. “Please, Mack—sir—this isn’t what I signed up for.”
Mack stood by impassively, utterly unmoved.
“Please!”
“Sorry, son. Can’t tell ‘em what I don’t know.”
“Sorry, son,” Theresa mocked as she raised the knife above her head theatrically, ready to stab it down. “You heard the man—”
“Theresa!” Willem had her in his sights, his finger poised over the trigger. Grace lifted her rifle to cover Theresa; Lucas lifted his against Grace. In a matter of moments, the entire company was locked in a tense and uncertain standoff.
“God damnit, Will,” Theresa hissed through gritted teeth, holding the blade in mid-strike. “This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be!”
“You’re right,” he agreed, “but it’s the way it is.”
Mack’s drawling guffaw didn’t cut the tension so much as slam down upon it like a hammer. “Will, is it? So much for Lucas, I guess. Either way, you’re alright. You get your hellcat there to take her knife off my boy, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
Willem wasn’t sure who to be more angry with: Mack for putting his own man’s life at risk, or himself for dividing the group over it. Swallowing his anger—and a good dose of pride—he lowered his rifle. “Hear that, Theresa?”
If Willem was angry, Theresa was downright livid. “You actually believe that shit?!”
“Well, look at it this way,” he offered, “it’s not like that one’s eyes are going anywhere. If this doesn’t play out you can strip them for all the parts you like. I won’t try to stop you.”
The others stood their ground resolutely, a powder keg waiting to go off at the slightest provocation from either side. It all hinged upon how Theresa responded to Willem’s overture. She stood taut as a bowstring, every muscle in her body screaming out for action, for her to plunge the knife into the knock-kneed hunter at her side and take him apart piece by piece. She flexed her fingers around the handle, lifted the blade higher… then let her arm fall harmlessly to her side. With it went the rest of
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