Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Maverick
D espite Aven’s reluctance to stop beating a dead horse, Frankie and I still manage to race down the beach at roughly the same time. I’m a few seconds ahead of her, so I quickly formulate a plan as Jim shouts instructions from the bullhorn.
“Station three, welcome to the beach picnic! The rules are simple. Using only the items provided in your picnic basket, you must prepare a wonderful spread. Drape your blanket on the sand, and don’t forget to grab your special guest!”
He motions toward the water, to a few surfboards bobbing in the waves. I hadn’t given them a second thought before now, but as I look closely, I see Cattle strapped to each one. Naked, shivering Cattle.
“If your Cattle dies on the journey to the picnic, your team will be disqualified,” Jim adds. “All kills must be taken on the picnic blanket to count, and the blanket must remain in your lane!”
With a groan, I look at the ocean. I’m not a terrible swimmer, but I don’t know about Frankie. Cutting through the waves will be a major pain in the ass, but it’s also exhausting.
“You better not lose this for us, blondie!” Bennett yells toward me. Probably because I’m simply standing here and watching as Frankie races toward the water like some Baywatch daydream.
She rips off her shirt as I hurry after her.
It flies behind her and lands in my face, ruining my perfect view.
I’m glad when she doesn’t strip further.
Bennett isn’t the only one with a possessive streak.
The idea is a good one, though, so I steal it.
As I run, I rip off my clothes until I’m down to my boxers.
Frankie is all giggles and smiles as she dives into the water, but I’m increasingly nervous about the distance. While it doesn’t seem that far on land, treading water for that length of time is nothing to sniff at, and we’ll have squirming passengers to tend to on the return trip.
Cheers erupt behind us as another team finishes the second station. I wade into the water until it reaches my knees. Then I begin the swim.
I was wrong to worry about Frankie. She reaches the surfboards, chooses one, and begins paddling toward shore. I was right to worry about myself, though, because I still have several yards to go, and I’m already winded.
“You good?” Frankie asks as we pass in the water. She even stops kicking her legs as she swipes the water from her face.
I grunt and force a smile. “Never been better, sweetheart. Just giving you a little head start.”
“Right,” she drawls as she kicks toward shore.
Setting my jaw, I try not to think about the horrible pain digging into my arms and legs.
Exhaustion is already setting in by the time I reach the surfboards, and I’m more than happy to rest a moment as I catch my breath.
Bennett stomps his feet and screams at me when he realizes I’m resting, but that’s fine. I can’t hear him all the way out here.
I can’t rest for long, though. As I look at the waves crashing onto the beach, I see another participant diving into the water.
I don’t mind losing to Frankie, but I refuse to be bested by a no name.
As I study the Cattle on the surfboards, I don’t see any advantage to be had, so I settle on the surfboard I currently cling to.
The man strapped to it doesn’t seem to mind, not that he could tell me if he did. He appears to be unconscious.
At least . . . I hope that’s the case.
I’m too fucking tired to check for a pulse, so I start paddling.
The return trip is easier once I’m out of the current.
The waves push me toward shore. When I finally feel the sand beneath my feet, I change modes from Mermaid Maverick to Land Maverick, and despite the way my arms and legs feel like massive cement weights, Land Maverick is much faster.
I move to the front of the board and grip the modified, reinforced wrist strap as I wrestle the Cattle out of the surf.
To my right, Frankie grunts and groans as she tries to yank her Cattle to the picnic area.
Despite her best efforts, she’s made little progress since leaving the water.
Her face has gone red with the effort, and my heart is breaking as I witness the desperation in her eyes.
She turns her head so that I can’t see the tears of frustration.
I have a choice to make at this moment. Helping her would mean going against what I want, and what I want is for Frankie to leave this beach without making a kill. I’m so scared that if she does it, she’ll regret it later.
But if I don’t help her right now, I’ll regret it.
I drop my wrist strap and rush to her side. Bennett screams and shouts his displeasure behind me, but I ignore him as I get behind Frankie’s surfboard and push.
“What are you doing?” she asks, though she doesn’t stop pulling that strap with everything she has. “I thought you...didn’t want me...to make...the kill.” With another tug, she falls to her ass. “Fuck! Why is this so goddamn hard?”
I move to the front of the board and grab the wrist strap from her. “That’s why I’m helping. Because it’s hard. If I’d needed help in the water, you’d have done the same.”
Frankie doesn’t respond.
I give the board another yank, clearing a small dune that would have been in her way. “Right?”
“Totally,” she says.
Why don’t I believe her?
I haul the surfboard the rest of the way to her station, then turn to face her. “In the spirit of fairness, it would be nice if you waited to begin. You know, to give me a chance to catch up.”
“I still have to get him on the blanket,” she says as she kneels beside the surfboard and begins unstrapping the nude man. “You have plenty of time to catch up.”
Again, why don’t I believe her?
I rush back to my surfboard, but the Cattle isn’t there. I guess I didn’t need to worry about him being dead after all. Bennett’s screams finally register in my head, and I look down the beach as a bare butt races toward a rocky outcropping.
Catching up with him isn’t hard to do, as his legs are chained so that he can’t get a good stride.
Restraining him, however, will be interesting.
As I mentioned, he’s very much naked, and I don’t cherish the thought of his cock and balls bouncing against me as I carry him down the beach.
Dragging his dead body by the foot would be preferable, but he can’t be killed away from the picnic blanket.
Can’t be killed, but Jim didn’t say he had to be fighting fit .
I grab a nearby rock, aim for his head, and send it. The large stone smacks the side of his head, and down he goes. He scrambles to get up again, but I’m already on him with another rock in hand.
It’s not my finest moment, but I straddle his waist and proceed to bludgeon him with the rock.
Again, Jim said we had to use the items in the picnic basket to kill our Cattle, but he didn’t say we couldn’t use other things to incapacitate them.
I bring the stone down on his skull until he finally lies still.
The last strike misses, though, and I end up caving in his nose and part of his right eye socket.
“Sorry about that, buddy,” I say as I grip his leg and start dragging him down the beach.
It all works out in the end, though, because Frankie is still struggling to get her Cattle onto the blanket. Whatever drugs Jim gave them are starting to wear off. The man occasionally groans and tries to roll away, much to Frankie’s growing frustration.
“Please be still,” she pleads. “I’ll make it quick.”
I drop my guy’s leg and pull the blanket out of the picnic basket, then spread the red-and-white fabric over the sand. With a few quick tugs, I’ve got him on the blanket.
“How the fuck am I supposed to kill him with a fucking baguette?” Frankie screeches.
I look up as she flings things from the picnic basket, each item less murdery than the last. “A few more hours in the sun and that potato salad might do the trick.”
“I’d have more luck trying to kill him with my bare hands,” Frankie laments. “Do we all have the same shit?”
Opening my basket, I spy three butcher knives and a hand grenade. “Uh...keep digging. Maybe there’s something.”
“Ah ha!” she says, and I expect her to pull a Ruger from the basket. Instead, she produces a corkscrew, which she then tries to shove into the man’s chest.
No hesitation.
Well, there goes my last ounce of hope.
“Try twisting,” I say as I show her what I mean.
“Easy for you to say with a knife in your fucking hand.” She puts all of her weight behind the corkscrew as she twists to the right. Something pops, and she sinks down. The Cattle groans and turns his head. Frankie looks at me. “Shouldn’t he be dead?” she whispers.
“Why are you letting her win?” Bennett screams.
My gaze bounces between Frankie and Bennett. “Listen, you’ll need to hurry this up. There’s only so much stalling I can do before Bennett takes me out on this picnic blanket.”
“Wait, you’re trying to let me win?” Frankie sits back, and her Cattle begins to sit up.
“Hey, you need to finish him off.”
“No. If I’m going to win this leg, I want to win fair and square.”
The dazed man looks at me, then down at the bloody man on my blanket. He blinks and then squints at the knife in my hand before looking down at the corkscrew rammed in his chest.
“Okay, but take him out before he comes around. You won’t stand a chance if?—”
Frankie places her hands on the man’s shoulders and lowers him to the blanket, and he complies without complaint. “First you don’t want me to kill anyone. Now I’m not doing it quickly enough. Make up your mind!” She slams her fist onto the corkscrew, and the man coughs up some blood.
“You, uh...It’s a lung shot. He’ll take a bit to die from that.” I step over my Cattle and slit his throat. Blood jets from his carotid and coats my chest in red. I look back, toward the start of the race. “Can I get a check?”
“Drat,” Frankie mutters as she tries to wrestle the corkscrew free. When tugging doesn’t work, she places her feet to either side of it to give her some leverage, and she yanks some more.
“Remember, sweetheart?” I turn my wrist, spinning the knife in my hand. “Give it a twist.”
She grits her teeth and looks up at me. “This is what I’m gonna do to your nuts later.” With that, she gives the tool another yanking, but with a twist this time, and it pops free. Blood trickles from the small wound.
Jim trots up and reconsiders kneeling to check my guy’s pulse. “Was the bludgeoning wholly necessary? So much blood. I’ll put my cleaners’ kids through college after this trip.”
A guttural scream comes from Frankie, and I turn in time to see her straddle the man and drive the corkscrew into his eye. “Why won’t you fucking die already?”
“You might have better luck if you flip him around and use the same force on his neck. Right at the base of the?—”
She yanks out the corkscrew and tosses it aside. “Do not mansplain murder to me, please.”
Jim stands up and nods. “He’s dead.” Then he raises the bullhorn, and right in my ear, he says, “Station four!”
Bennett tears past me, and I’m grateful because it means Jim aims the bullhorn away from my fucking ear. Whatever rules he lays down, I don’t hear them. I doubt I’ll ever hear anything again.
But then I do hear something. Female voices shouting and encouraging Frankie to keep going. As I peer down her lane, I see Cat, Kindra, and Eve jumping up and down and cheering her on. No wonder she wants to be part of this so badly. It’s the power of finding your tribe.
I turn back to Frankie. She’s abandoned the corkscrew in favor of the glass bowl the potato salad came in.
As she smashes it beneath the blanket, then pulls out a large, sharp shard, I’m in awe of her resourcefulness.
When she wraps the sharp edges with the cloth napkins from inside the basket, then drives the curved glass into his neck, I’m taken aback by her ferocity.
It’s like watching your house cat tear the head off a bird.
You know they’re capable of it, but you’re still fucking shocked when it happens in front of you.
Watching her face, I wait for the remorse to light her eyes.
I study her and hold my breath as she eases the glass from his throat.
Blood rushes out and coats her hands to the tempo of a heartbeat, and still the look on her face hasn’t changed.
Then her lips curve into a smile, and she flops onto her ass.
“Amazing,” she says, and I recognize that look in her eyes. It’s the self-satisfaction after removing a filthy smudge from your window on the world. It’s the comedown after release. It’s the end of what you were and the beginning of what you will be.
And it’s all my fault.