Number Seventy-Five Read Free Page A

gravel that filled my mouth before I responded.
    “Samuel, what are you talkin’ about?” I asked, the words barely above a breathy whisper as they exited from my swollen throat.
    He continued to stroke my hair, but the once gentle caresses were gone, replaced with the heaviness of anger. When he pulled his hand away, it was covered in my blood.
    “I promise you, Mandy, I didn’t have no idea you were his date tonight. Please, please believe that. When I saw you get out of your car at the restaurant and walk in, you got no idea how upset I was. This was the night! It’s been planned for months now, and everything was set in motion just so. No turnin’ back once the wheels started rollin’, no siree Bob. There was no way I could stop. You understand, right?”
    While he spoke, his blue orbs pleaded with mine for recognition that I did as tears of regret swam behind them.
    “No, I guess you wouldn’t. But that’s okay. I’ll explain it all to you while I finish up,” Samuel said, rising to his feet and stepping behind me once more. I assumed he took my silence to his question as my answer.
    “This was the end, the last one. I swear to it, as God almighty is my witness, Mandy. He didn’t want to stop, but I told him in the beginnin’ that seventy-five was the magic number. You don’t know how much I wish it wasn’t yours.”
    In the pain and terror-filled state I was in, my cheek still firmly pressed against the wet dirt, comprehending Sam’s words was damn near impossible. However, I did detect a hint, a deep sadness, in his voice.
    Number seventy-five? Last one? Last one, what?
    The sound of the shovel as he snatched and flung more earth from its place started again. Each time the metallic end made contact with the hardened ground and dug the hole deeper, I felt the sensation travel through my nerves. The screeching neurons left me no doubt that I was awake and not experiencing a wicked nightmare. I forced myself to remain calm and keep him talking while I worked out the details of what could possibly be my last few moments alive.
    The coolness of the night air helped dislodge the cobwebs from my head, but that feeling didn’t last too long. The scent molecules that followed it made my stomach lurch in protest. My heart pounded in response to the stench of death.
    “Samuel, please. Ribs are broken…trouble breathing,” I gasped, hoping I could convince him to drop the shovel and at least help me move, buying me a few more precious minutes. Sure enough, the clang of the handle as it met with the ground rang through my ears. In a flash, he was in front of me once more.
    “Oh Mandy, sorry. Should’ve helped you up before. Lots going on tonight and manners just slipped my mind. Guess I am not thinkin’ clearly. This’ll probably hurt. He roughed you up pretty bad before I got there. You put up a good fight, though. Got a few good licks in on him too, so you should be proud ‘bout that, my li’l spitfire. You didn’t go down without a good fight. And that’s the Mandy I know and love. But don’t worry, he can’t hurt you, or anyone else, anymore. I made sure of that.”
    Sam’s tattooed arms encircled my waist, and in one swift movement, he scooped my limp body, cradling me like a football under the crook of his right arm. I bit my lip so hard that I tasted the rusty flavor of my own blood to keep my screams from shooting out of me. He took a few careful steps before depositing me in the sitting position, my back pressed up against a damp, icy surface. He knelt down and wiped the bloody mass of hair from my face, his eyes backlit by the faint yellow light from the lantern that sat next to his silent shovel.
    A dirty, blood encrusted shovel that rested right next to the freshly dug grave.
    “There. That should be better. At least you aren’t face down in the filth anymore. I’m sorry the cave wall is so cold though. Guess you should’ve worn a jacket, huh? But you looked really nice this evening,