Kill or Die Read Free Page B

discovered the reason why . . . he was spread-eagled on the ground, his wrists and ankles bound with ropes to wooden stakes.
    Flintlock raised his head. “Hey!” he yelled.
    A tall man with a carrion-eater’s eyes suddenly loomed above him. He held Flintlock’s Hawken in his hands. “What the hell is this?” he said.
    â€œWhat does it look like?” Flintlock said, a question that earned him a hard kick in the ribs.
    â€œKeep a civil tongue in your head,” the man said.
    Flintlock recognized him as Harry, the man with the Greener from the night before. He wanted to kill him real bad.
    Harry turned the Hawken over in his hands. “Lovely old piece,” he said. “I reckon I’ll hold on to it.”
    â€œIt’s mine,” Flintlock said. “You can’t have it.”
    â€œBut I do have it,” Harry said. “See, right here in my hands.”
    Flintlock tried to get up but the stakes held him fast. He stared at Harry. “I’ll kill you for this.”
    The man turned and said. “Hey, Lem, the man with the big bird on his throat says he’s gonna kill me.”
    Lem, a brutish man with a bull neck and massive shoulders, stepped into Flintlock’s view. “Hell, Harry, why don’t we just shoot him and be done?” he said.
    â€œBecause Brewster Ritter will want details. And one of the details he’ll want is that this tramp didn’t die quick or easy.”
    Now it was Lem’s turn to deliver a kick into Flintlock’s ribs that made him gasp in pain. “Al Plume was a friend of mine,” Lem said.
    â€œI’m sure he’ll be sadly missed,” Flintlock said. He gritted his teeth against the pain he knew was coming and he wasn’t disappointed as the square toe of Lem’s boot thudded into him.
    When he could talk again, Flintlock said, “What are you going to do with me?”
    â€œUs? Nothing,” Harry said. “But I’ll give you a clue to what’s gonna happen to you. Show him, Lem.”
    The man called Lem stepped away and returned a moment later. He held a dead raccoon by one leg and raised it so Flintlock could see it.
    â€œCan you guess?” Lem said.
    â€œGo to hell,” Flintlock said.
    â€œCan’t guess, huh?” Lem said. He dropped the bloody raccoon onto Flintlock’s chest then kneeled behind him and roughly grabbed him by the hair. He jerked up Flintlock’s head and forced him to look to his left. “What do you see, huh? Tell me what you see?” Lem said.
    Flintlock made no answer and the man grabbed his hair tighter as though trying to wrench it out by the roots. With his free hand he slapped Flintlock back and forth across the face, stinging blows that cracked like pistol shots. Blood trickled from the corner of Flintlock’s mouth and his right eye began to swell.
    â€œDamn you, I’ll beat it out of you,” Lem said through gritted teeth. “What do you see?”
    â€œLem, don’t kill him,” Harry said. “He’s got to be alive for a while.”
    â€œWhat do you see?” Lem said again.
    â€œA swamp, damn you, a swamp,” Flintlock said through split lips.
    â€œClever boy,” Lem said. “And what dwells in the swamp, huh?”
    â€œHow the hell should I know?” Flintlock said.
    â€œWell, I’ll tell you. He’s an elderly ranny who goes by the name Basilisk because the swamp dwellers say just one look from his eyes can turn a man into stone with fear.”
    The man called Harry took up the story. “The swamp folks say Basilisk is a hundred years old and that he’s eaten so many people he has a taste for human flesh.” Harry grinned, made claws of his hands and said, “Grrrr . . .”
    By nature Sam Flintlock was not an excitable man, but he didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking. “What the hell are you boys talking about?” he