The Shake
hyperventilating and I was afraid she might pass out.“Karla, why don’t you sit in the car.”
She looked at me, at the car, at the guy on his knees, then lunged forward and spat at him. I’m not sure any of her spit hit him, but she sprayed me pretty well. This seemed to satisfy a need that allowed her to relax some, and she sat down behind the wheel, leaving the door open so she could watch.
The guy was cradling his right arm against his stomach. I rapped him on top of the head with my knuckles to get his attention. “What’s your name?”
He looked up at me. He was crying. “Bill.”
“How’s your wrist, Bill?”
“You broke it!”
“Life can be so unpredictable, can’t it? I mean, one minute, you’re just minding your own business, living your life as best you can. The next minute, something horrible comes along: a disease, a freak accident, it could be anything. Maybe you’re sitting in your car, waiting for a friend, and some evil, predatory freak decides to terrorize you.”
The strain of trying to figure out what was happening had stopped his crying. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to hurt her.”
“Shit like that, Bill, is only going to make it worse for you.”
I turned and looked at Karla. She was still shaking, but her breathing had settled down. “He says he’s sorry. Should we forgive and forget?”
“Break his other arm!” she said, with enough venom that it seemed to surprise even her.
“You hear that, Bill. She doesn’t think your apology comes from the heart. Would you like to try again?”
I’m always amused by how quickly the typical bully can shift into groveling and ass licking.
“I’m really sorry,” he whined. “Really, really sorry. I don’t know why... what I was doing. I’m such an asshole, sometimes. I can’t help it. My life is complete shit. I don’t know what’s wrong. I just can’t get...”
I rapped him again on the top of his head. “That’s enough, Bill. You’re supposed to be feeling remorse, not self-pity.”
It just wasn’t smart to let him walk away, but I didn’t want Karla to witness the alternative. There was a telephone pole about twenty yards south of the car, close enough to be visible in the darkness. “You see that telephone pole, Bill?” I said, pointing.
He glanced in the general direction.
“I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll give you a head start to the pole. That’s pole number one. The next one down the road is two, the one after that, three. If you can run to pole number three before I catch you, I’ll let you walk away.”
He was young and fit. He measured the head start in his mind and I could see his confidence rise. “If I don’t make it, then what?”
“Then you don’t make it.” I said.
He looked at me like there was something more to say.
“That’s the deal, Bill. I suggest you start running before I change my mind.”
He scrambled up and took off, holding his damaged arm against his chest. Under different circumstances, his confidence would have been justified. For a human, he could really run. I glanced at Karla. She looked positively mystified. Then I took off after Bill. I wanted to time it so that I caught him a few strides before the third pole. When he passed the second pole, he looked back over his shoulder. The expression on his face was priceless. I was a lot closer than he’d expected, and he really turned on the steam.
I closed the gap. When he was just a stride or two from the pole, I nudged him on his right shoulder. Running flat out as he was, he had no control over the change in direction. The telephone pole was about six feet from the road edge and he hit it at full speed. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs and he bounced back several feet, landing flat on his back. I walked over and checked him. He was unconscious, but still breathing. I grabbed a handful of his jacket and shirt with one hand, and his belt with the other, picked him up, spun him around and slung him against the telephone pole. When I checked him the second time, he wasn’t breathing.
When I got to the car, Karla was leaning her forehead against her two fists gripping the steering wheel. She had been badly shaken. She spoke without raising her head. “Is he gone?”
There wasn’t any point in my trying to make light of the situation. She could either cope with it, or not. “He’s about as gone as he can be.”
She raised her head then, turning to face me. “Did you kill him?”
I was a little surprised at how cold the question was. She may have been afraid of the man, but she was not afraid of the answer to her question.
“Let’s just say he came to a crossroads, and, as so often happens, he made the wrong turn.”
“He was going to hurt me, Shake.”
For a second I thought she was going to cry, but she didn’t.
“I don’t know if he was going to rape me, but I know he was going to hurt me.”
“All things considered, you handled yourself pretty well tonight,” I said. “I’m proud of you.”
There was a faraway look in her eyes, as if she were struggling to square what I’d just said with the preceding events. “I don’t think so, Shake,” she whispered.
“I told you when we first met that I wasn’t a bad guy to have on your side. I’ll look after you, Karla. But you have to help. It wasn’t smart to open your door to that guy.”
“I know I fucked up, Shake. I’m sorry.”
“I’m curious about something. This was the second time I’ve seen you spit on some guy. What’s that about?”
She thought for a second, then laughed nervously. “A few years ago, I had this real shit for a boyfriend. We used to fight all the time. So one time,