Eddie Bourque: Speak Ill Of The Living Part 20

"We're kinda f.u.c.ked, aren't we?" Eddie said. He used the word "we" deliberately, to reinforce the idea that they were trapped together, and that the killer needed Eddie to escape.

"Shut up," the man ordered. He felt his way along the curve.

Eddie was quiet for a minute. His breathing slowed to normal. When the man wasn't actively trying to kill him, Eddie found the masked a.s.sailant fascinating. What would drive a man so far beyond the reach of his own conscience? Eddie couldn't help himself from beginning an interview: "Why did you try to run me down in your van?"

The man kept his attention to the wall. "To kill you."

His matter-of-fact manner sent a shiver through Eddie. He had grown used to his lack of fear when all seemed lost and he had nothing to lose. Since then, fresh air and a hope for escape had replenished Eddie's will to live-now he had something he was afraid to lose. He forced a laugh. "Okay, dumb question," he said. "Why do you want to kill me?"

"You peons make trouble for me, Bourque." The man tried to exploit a tiny crack between two bricks as a finger hold. His fingers slipped when he tried to pull himself up and he growled in anger.

The man thought of Eddie as a peon-a p.a.w.n, the lowest ranking soldier on the chessboard. How did he view himself? As the king, no doubt. And n.o.body sacrifices a king to destroy one p.a.w.n. The a.s.sailant was desperate to kill Eddie, but he wouldn't trade his own life to complete the job. It had to be obvious to the man that even the best rock climber in the world would drown if left alone in this smooth-sided well.

Watching the man's clumsy attempts to climb gave Eddie confidence-the a.s.sa.s.sin would soon be forced to agree that he needed a living Eddie Bourque to help him.

"You know," Eddie said, not caring if he sounded like a know-it-all, "the more energy you waste on futile escape attempts, the less you'll have for a realistic effort."

The man's head whirled around at Eddie, but he said nothing and quickly returned to searching the wall. Eddie splashed one stroke across the well to allow the man to search the area where Eddie had been resting.

Eddie waited, bobbing gently in the water, growing ever colder and trying to be patient. He thought about what the man had told him.

You peons make trouble for me.

"I don't understand how I make trouble for you," Eddie said. "You're the one who tried to run me down, you're the one who burned up my beloved car. I had to pay a cash deposit on a new Chevette, and I'm getting porked on the price."

"You should've charged it," the man offered. "It's not a bill you'll have to pay."

Eddie chuckled, though at an octave higher than he would have liked. Still, he was pleased to engage the man in conversation. They would need to be on speaking terms if Eddie was going to get out of the well.

"Had I only known," Eddie said, "I would have leased a Porsche."

"You should shut up now."

"You haven't answered my question. How is it that I make trouble for you? Do I know you? Is that why you wear a ski mask in the summer?"

The man completed his survey of the well. "Get over here," he commanded, "and boost me up."

Eddie laughed. "Two problems with that," he said. "There's no chance I'm doing it, and it wouldn't work anyway."

One stroke, no splash, and the man was on him-a bruising grip on Eddie shoulder, a sharp, cracking chop across Eddie's nose. Eddie's head snapped back and his sinuses burned. Blood ran from his nose, over his lip.

"Boost me," the man ordered. Eddie could see him smiling.

Eddie coughed, blinked to clear his eyes. He gasped, "No-my way, or nothing."

The man unleashed his frustration on Eddie Bourque, clubbing a fist over his head, knocking Eddie from reality and parking him in the ether. Eddie was vaguely aware of the man climbing onto his shoulders, trying to use him as a springboard. Eddie's head slipped under. He inhaled liquid and tasted blood.

There's blood in the water.

He thought he saw a shark before reality blurred and went black.

"Puke it up, a.s.shole."

A hand thumped three times between Eddie's shoulder blades.

"Puke it up."

Eddie coughed violently. He gasped for air, and then coughed so hard he thought he would pop a vein in his head.

The a.s.sa.s.sin floated next to Eddie. He had one arm under Eddie's ribcage, holding him up. The killer's other hand pounded Eddie's back, ejecting water from Eddie's windpipe. Eddie wheezed. His feet began kicking by instinct and he realized that the man had pulled him up as Eddie was drowning.

"I'm pushing you back under if you need mouth-to-mouth," the man promised.

Eddie nodded, coughed, gagged, spat, and then agreed in a whisper, "Please do."

The man held Eddie in silence for a few minutes, until Eddie was able to float on his own. The cold had burrowed deep inside him. There was little time left to get out. He knew that the next time he went under would be the last.

The killer's eyes gleamed in the moonlight. Not eyes Eddie recognized. But not eyes he would ever forget.

"What's your way?" the man asked.

"Huh?"

"Your way! Your way out of here."

"Real simple," Eddie said. "We climb up back-to-back, feet on opposite walls, until we reach the top."

The man looked to the top of the well but said nothing.

Eddie guessed his thoughts again. "It'll work-this stone should provide plenty of friction against our feet, and so long as we move in unison, keeping even pressure against each other, the opposing force will allow us to stay elevated."

The killer seemed to think about the plan for a long while. Then he said suddenly, "I had a rope."

Eddie rubbed the bruise around his neck. "I remember."

"It's gone. Must have sunk. Dive down and get it off the bottom."

Eddie shook a finger at him. "So you can tie yourself to me?" he scolded. "And then kill me when we reach the top? No f.u.c.king way."

The man reared up in the water and came down with finger clamps around Eddie's throat. "Get down there and get my rope!" His eyes raked over Eddie's face. His mouth bent into a mirthless grin.

Eddie croaked, "This...is...your...grave."

The man's eyes seemed ready to ignite. He roared, heaved Eddie to the middle of the well and then slammed his fist on the water.

Eddie rubbed his sore neck, and then smiled behind his hand.

I'm gonna beat you.

Eddie said, "I'm glad we settled that without anybody getting killed." He was sarcastic and cheerful sounding. "When we both get to the top, we'll each grab the side of the well closest to us. If you're on your feet quicker than me, you can run around the well and kick me back in."

The man snorted.

"Yeah-I thought you'd like that part. But if I'm out quicker, I'll kick you back in."

It was a lie, a carefully placed suggestion.

"You don't got it in you," scoffed the a.s.sa.s.sin.

"To kill? Maybe not. But I can tell the cops where to look for you. They'll want to see how pretty you are under that mask. I can't wait to hear you splash."

The killer went grunt, grunt. "I should have finished you, Bourque. After you got out of the car I should have come back and finished you."

"Why didn't you?"

"Against my better judgment." He spun a half-turn around. "Get your back against mine."

Eddie swam to him and pressed his back against the killer's. Both men placed their feet against the sides of the well and pushed. They rose to the level of the water, lost balance and slipped back in.

The man spit a spray of water. "It's not working!"

"It'll work," Eddie a.s.sured him. "We both need to take a wider stance with our feet. Keep the pressure even. You can't try to race me outta here."

Back to back, they pushed against each other and slowly spidered out of the water, a few inches at a time, and then hovered in air. For balance, they clasped hands. The attacker's fingers were like sausage casings packed with hard clay.

"I'm stepping my left foot," Eddie announced. "Now you step your right." Pressed together they climbed, left, right, left. Eddie's thighs heated under the strain. He was aware of the thick muscles overlaying the killer's broad back.

"If not today," whispered the a.s.sa.s.sin, "I'll get you someday, Bourque."

"Left foot," Eddie answered. "Good, now the right. Keep the pressure."

"You'll turn the key and I'll be behind the door."

"How lovely," Eddie said. He panted from the physical strain of climbing the well. "Now the left foot again-good."

"When you lie down to sleep-"

"We're more than halfway there."

"-I'll be under the bed."

"Bring coffee," Eddie said. "Keep your stance wide."

The a.s.sa.s.sin also breathed heavy from the labor. He said, "Use up all your jokes, because the moment you feel safe, that's when I'll appear."

They neared the top of the well.

"We'll need to reach for the rim at the same moment," Eddie said, "or we'll both fall back in. I'll reach for the right, you reach for the left and we'll maintain the opposing force to the last instant. No sudden moves until we have a grip on the wall."

"Got it."

"And then I'll run around and kick you back down," Eddie reminded him.

The killer chortled.

The men slowly unclasped their hands.

Eddie reached his right arm for the top of the stone rim. He barely had a hand on it when the killer lunged for the opposite wall. Eddie had antic.i.p.ated the double-cross and he slapped his hand accurately on the rim as his body swung into the wall. Hanging by one hand, his cheek against the stone, Eddie heard the killer clambering up the opposite side of the well. Eddie reached his other hand up, found a solid grip and heaved himself in an overhand pull-up. In adrenaline frenzy, Eddie wormed the bottom of his ribcage over the lip of the well, smacked his right elbow down for leverage and swung his left leg over the lip. He rolled over the stone ring, popped up and looked for the killer.

The man was still struggling to climb up. Eddie ran around the well toward him.

The killer spotted him, growled and rolled awkwardly over the lip. He scurried away from the well on all fours, so Eddie could not kick him back down. But Eddie never had any intention of taking that chance. He had planted the suggestion simply to buy a few seconds' head start.

Eddie exploded in a sprint down the driveway.

"Chicken s.h.i.t b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" the attacker screamed.

Eddie heard footsteps pounding behind him. He careened into the woods. Small branches, invisible in the night, scratched his face and bare chest. Eddie ran with abandon among the trees, leaping stones and downed branches, plowing over maple saplings. He listened to the crashing footsteps behind him, falling ever more distant as Eddie pulled away. Ducking limbs, dashing around tree trunks-it seemed more like slalom skiing than running. Eddie settled into what runners called a groove, the place where speed met efficiency. He felt like he could run for hours.

The footsteps behind him disappeared. The man had lost him, or had given up.

Eddie ran through the woods, lost, growing ever further from The Late Chuckie's rat bike, but generally heading in a straight line by keeping the moon over his left shoulder. He guessed he had bushwhacked about two miles when he came to a small rise covered with evergreens, on which he stopped to listen.

Nothing.

He had gotten away. Eddie had beaten the a.s.sa.s.sin and he was giddy.

The man's words repeated in Eddie's memory.

The moment you feel safe, that's when I'll appear.

Eddie stared into the forest.

Not tonight. Tonight I am alive.

He walked through the woods, listening to the sounds of an unseen race between the forest's hunters and their small prey. He learned not to jump at the sound of rustling leaves. His wet pants and shoes began to dry. He had walked an hour, maybe more, when he came to a road-dark, winding, poorly paved. He walked it for about half a mile, and then dived into the brush when headlights approached. He hid as the car cruised past him. What would the a.s.sa.s.sin be driving? Eddie couldn't say. He could trust no cars until morning.

Staying a few paces inside the woods, he followed the unlit road until the first grays of dawn, when fatigue clubbed him like a mugger and Eddie burrowed, near delirious, under dry leaves and pine needles for just a moment's rest, and thudded into a bottomless sleep.

Chapter 21.