“Please, don’t shoot,” the woman begged. “It wasn’t my idea to shoot you.”
Kyle stared at the two people, and the thought suddenly came to him that there could be others, perhaps more traveling along the road or further up the hill. He grew more nervous, stepping in closer to the fallen tree that concealed him. “How many of you are there?” he called out.
“Just two,” came the reply. “It’s just me and Christopher.”
Kyle looked around. He wanted to believe her, but knew that he shouldn’t. He listened and waited, trying to hear anything unusual. If there were more people, they’d certainly know where the action was.
“What are you going to do?” the woman asked.
“I don’t know,” Kyle shouted back. “I thought I was going to kill you without having a conversation first. It would’ve been easier that way.”
“Please don’t,” she pleaded. “I…I’m sorry we shot you. I tried to stop him.”
“Sounded to me like you took the first shot.”
“I had to. He insisted that I do it. Said he always…” she paused.
“Always what? Shot people?”
There was no response.
“Toss your gun out from behind the tree,” Kyle ordered.
“If you’re going to kill me, I should at least hold onto it. It gives me a fighting chance to get out of here.”
“I didn’t say I was going to kill you.”
“You didn’t say you weren’t.”
Kyle swallowed. “Fine. I won’t kill you.”
“How do I know?”
“You don’t know, alright?” Kyle was getting angry. He didn’t want to debate this woman. “All you know is that I have the upper hand, and if you don’t come out, you’re likely going to die. Understand?”
Kyle walked closer to the woman, keeping the tree between them as he waited for a response. “What are you going to do?”
“Alright, just a minute.” He could see her lifting the strap of the gun over her head. “Where do you want me to put it?”
“Toss it over on your partner.”
“Are you serious?”
“I am. Sorry I don’t seem too sentimental, but he tried to kill me.”
The weapon was tossed from behind the tree and landed on the lifeless body.
“Now what?”
“Throw your coat over there as well.”
After a few seconds, the woman had removed her coat and tossed it from behind the tree.
“Raise your hands, and come out where I can see you.”
“Don’t shoot,” the woman pleaded as she emerged cautiously from behind the tree. Without her coat, she was left wearing brown canvas pants, hiking boots, and a green, long-sleeved, waffle-knit shirt. A brown wool cap covered her head. Her hands and legs were shaking visibly, and she held the tree for stability. “Now what?” she asked.
“You have any more weapons?”
She shook her head.
“Lift your shirt, and your pant legs, so I can be sure.”
She gave him an odd look, and Kyle noticed her striking features – dark, almond-shaped eyes, full lips that turned down at the corners, a long, thin nose, and rose-colored cheeks on alabaster skin. “I don’t trust you,” he explained. “Nothing personal, but I have to be careful. You should understand.”
She smiled at him, though she looked terrified. “I’m Stacy,” she said. “What’s your name?” She reached down, grabbed the hem of her shirt, and pulled it up, lifting it over her head.”
“Whoa, hey, that’s plenty,” Kyle protested. “I just want to make sure that you don’t have anything tucked in your waistband.”
One hand held her shirt, and she rested the other on her hip, which was shifted seductively to the side. “Now my pants, right?”
Kyle stared at the woman standing in front of him shirtless, wearing just a plain black bra that was pushing her large breasts together. Her cap had fallen off, and long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, contrasting vividly with her soft, pale skin. “Like what you see?” She forced a crooked, seductive smile, and leaned her head forward. “I used to dance. Made good money, too. The guys really liked me.”
“Put your shirt back on, then lift your pant legs,” Kyle said, trying to look her in the eyes. “I’m not looking for a performance. Just want to make sure you’re not going to shoot me in the back.
Stacy dropped her shirt to the ground and began undoing her belt. She bit her lower lip, closed her eyes, and flipped her head, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. “You have any money?”
Kyle was unnerved by the situation in front of him – one of the most beautiful women he’d seen, undressing in the woods while her boyfriend lay dead on the ground just a few feet away.
She pulled the belt from her pants with a snapping sound, winked at Kyle, then started unbuttoning her pants.
“I said to just lift your pant legs, not undress.”
“You like it better this way though, don’t you?” With her fly undone, she worked her pants lower, shifting her hips from side to side and revealing powder blue underwear. “If I’d known I was going to be performing, I would have worn something that matched.”
“Stop!” Kyle yelled, firing a shot and bringing the performance to a halt.
Stacy stood still with her pants around her knees, her bare skin glowing in a shaft of sunlight that filtered through the trees. “What?” she asked, her voice shaking but with an innocent, schoolgirl look on her face. “Does this bother you?” She turned to the side. “There might be something in my bra, you know.”
“I’m sure there is,” Kyle replied, “but likely no room for any weapons. Put your clothes back on. Now!” He looked down at Stacy’s gun lying across the man’s body and climbed over the tree towards it.
“You coming to check if they’re real?” She attempted to sound seductive, but there was too much fear in her voice.
An uneasy feeling swept over Kyle. He stopped and looked at her closely.
Stacy grabbed the bottom of her bra cups. “I’ll give you a peek, so you know I’m not packing.”
Kyle looked closer, noticing her shaking hands and fear-filled eye that flicked beyond him up the hill. He spun quickly, seeing movement two hundred feet away, then a flash. The bullet struck him in the chest almost in the same place he’d been hit earlier, knocking him backwards. The impact was less severe, but his wounded ribs screamed in agony, and he cried out as he fell down.
“He’s wearing a vest!” Stacy shrieked. “Shoot him in the head!”
She lunged for her rifle, but with her pants around her knees, she tripped and fell to the ground before reaching it.
Kyle, still holding his pistol, took aim at Stacy, not twenty feet away, and pulled the trigger. She screamed as a bloody wound opened up on her white ribs, but continued struggling forward on her knees, trying to reach the rifle just a few feet away. He shot her once more, hitting her again in the side, spinning her around onto the ground.
“Stacy!” a man shouted from the hill above them.
Kyle rolled over and saw the man running towards him. He fired a shot in the man’s direction and heard the bullet strike wood. The man kept running. Kyle continued pulling the trigger and chunks of wood splintered off trees between him and his target, then he heard the click of an empty chamber.
Kyle glanced over his shoulder at Stacy’s rifle, just a few feet away. He scrambled to his feet and dashed for it. A gunshot sounded, and a bullet whistled by. Kyle dove towards the dead man and used his good arm to grab the rifle, a .223 that was an updated version of the first gun he’d owned and matched the one that lay partially under the dead man, and which was blessed with a large magazine that Kyle prayed was more than just decoration. As Kyle scrambled for cover he noticed that Stacy’s eyes were still open, but dim, and she was watching him with desperation.
The man drew closer, darting between the trees for cover and bringing the gap between them to an uncomfortably close distance. Unsure how many bullets he had, Kyle waited for the right moment to take his shot, hoping he had a least one bullet to work with.
“Stacy!” the man yelled again, a heart-wrenching plea.