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Kingdom ComeExcerpt
My breath floated up in smoky white puffs. My mouth was cotton dry. He was here. Somewhere. Maybe only ten feet from me in the darkness. I shivered and circled my light again, this time stopping on the twisted horizontal shadow of an old rotten log. A ribbon of a creek ran beneath it and I heard its faint gurgle. I raised the gun, bracing my back against the trunk of the apple tree and meticulously ran the light over every inch, expecting Ben to explode from the shadows like a quail.
After five full minutes, I got on my knees again and moved toward the rotted log. Just as I touched its soft moist side with my knuckles, the scrub behind me exploded with a thrashing. I whipped around again and saw his shape, flailing. He was up on his feet and working downhill. He had doubled back on his own trail and waited for me to go by. It was a good time for him to make his break. I was imprisoned in the thick overgrowth with no chance at getting off a shot. I stayed low and crabbed back the way I came. There was no mistaking where Ben was, the sound of his struggle with the brush filled the night and he began to roar and howl like a madman. He was getting close to the swamp and I had to do something. I pushed upright into the tangle and fought downhill. Briars slashed my face and hands and somewhere along the way I dropped the light. I redoubled my grip on the gun and pushed on. If he beat me to the trail along the swamp, he might make it to the road. I remembered the car that had just gone by. But even with his head start, Ben, with all that bleeding, couldn't match my strength. I lowered my head and bulled through the tangle. I heard Ben break through. I was too far away. I'd never catch him. That's when I heard a crack like a baseball bat, and his scream. Jessica shrieked too. I heard someone tumbling and splashing into the swamp, and I thrashed even harder. Five seconds later I broke through. Jessica was there on her knees in the mud, gripping her flashlight, aiming it down the trail at Ben's stumbling shape. I raised the shotgun, breathed in, let the tiny red dot find the middle of his form, and fired. He dropped, but started to rise before he flopped off the edge of the path and back into the swamp. I ran. By the time I reached him, his limbs were still. Only his chest pumped up and down. His hair, like his clothes, was a snarl of dirt and blood. His eyes were white and they stared wide at me, full of horror. They began to glisten in the moonlight. Tears. "I got him," Jessica said, breathing hard from behind me. In the beam of my flashlight, she showed me hers. It's rim was bloody and mashed with red meat and dirty blond hairs. I moved closer. Ben's head was split from the flashlight and blood ran down his face. His hands clutched the right side of his lower ribs. The seams between his fingers leaked dark gushers of blood that ran and swirled into the swamp water. "Jesus Christ," he said, his gurgling voice pitched to hysteria. A sob escaped him. The sucking sound of snot and air. "You're my friend," he said, the words barely understandable. I stood no more than six feet from him now, the thick shotgun barrel aimed at the center of his chest. The gun began to tremble and then shake. My sight grew foggy and I shuddered, sobbing right along with him. I don't know how long I stood there before I realized she was there too, beside me. Her hand gripping my arm. "Do it," she said, squeezing her fingers to the bone. I shook my head no and swore to Jesus. And pulled the trigger. © Tim Green 
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