Heather Read Free Page B

for a gray fringe which circled the back of his head. He was short, no taller than Heather, about 5’1”. He looked much older than his age, emaciated, wasted, a concave chest, skinny arms and legs. Both his upper and lower front teeth were missing. He wore torn khaki pants and a gray sweatshirt, neither of which had been washed in weeks. His hands were calloused, his fingernails long and crusted with dirt. On his feet were black socks and old worn boots. Across his knees lay an automatic rifle.
    Sam was perhaps a year or two younger, taller and heavier. From the corner of his right eye to the corner of his mouth stretched a wide crescent shaped scar, purple and rough. It appeared to be a deep cut that had never healed properly. His face looked misshapen, pulled down on the side with the scar. He wore old army fatigues and combat boots. His feet and hands were huge. Resting against the log at his side was another automatic rifle.
    When the young couple emerged from their tent, Sam picked up his rifle and leveled it at them, not holding it to his shoulder, but pointing it from his lap, his index finger on the trigger.
    “Surprise!” Willy grinned.
    Tommy pushed Heather behind him and took a step toward the two men. “I don’t know what you want…” he began. Sam’s finger moved and a burst of bullets tore through the tent. Heather screamed.
    Willy held up a hand, “Sam,” he said evenly, “doesn’t say much. He was in the last war. He’s not exactly right in the head. He gets mad easy and when he’s mad he’d just as soon kill you as not.”
    Tommy, still keeping Heather behind him, nodded, “O.K.” he said, “Please, we aren’t looking for any trouble. Whatever you want, just take it. Please take what you want and we’ll be on our way.”
    “You got wallets?” Willy asked
    “Yes,” Tommy reached into his pocket.
    “Toss it here. She got a wallet?”
    Heather nodded, “In my purse. In the tent.”
    “Get it. Bring the purse.”
    In a moment, Heather was back. Willy held out his hand, “That’s a good girl. Now, bring it over here to old Willy.” Hesitantly she approached him holding out the purse. Willy poked Sam, “See, I told you she don’t wear nothin’ under that tee shirt. Look how them little titties bounce.” Tommy took a step forward. Sam moved the rifle slightly. Tommy stopped. Willy emptied both wallets stuffing the bills in his pocket.
    “You got what you wanted,” Tommy said, “so is it OK if we go now?”
    “Who said we got what we want?”
    “The money,” Heather said backing away, “isn’t that it?”
    “Shit!” Willy threw the purse and wallets down, “We can always get money. There’s a lot more important things than money, right Sam?”
    “Yeah, like fuckin’,” Sam said.
    Tommy stepped up again, “That’s not going to happen. It’s just not going to happen.” He took Heather’s arm and started to move away. Suddenly, Sam was in front of him and swinging the butt of the rifle, caught Tommy squarely in the mouth. Heather screamed as her husband fell backwards spitting blood and teeth. He lay on the ground moaning, the blood squirting from his smashed lips. Heather sunk to her knees beside him.
    “Let him alone,” Willy ordered. Sam took a step toward her. She backed away. Willy pointed his rifle at her husband. “Now, Miss, you do exactly what we say or we’ll kill him. You understand?” She nodded, her eyes wide trying to hold back the tears. Willy watched her closely. “You know we ain’t talkin’ bullshit. We’ll kill him and it won’t mean a fuckin’ thing to us.”
    “Yes, I believe you.”
    “Good. Get all your stuff together: backpacks, food, flashlights, clothes, shoes, everything, all of it and pile it up here on top of your purse. Sam’s gonna take down your tent.” He jerked a finger at her husband. “His name Tommy?”
    “Yes,” Heather said. “Can’t I please help him?”
    Sam had gone back to the donkeys and returned with a