34.
Bruce Lee and I tried to come up with a plan to save Mink.
We scanned the room. Everything we looked at was a potential weapon. The empty soda cans could be kicked hard enough to knock someone out. My t-shirt could be twisted around necks to choke someone unconscious. Even the two leftover mini-pizzas could be tossed like throwing stars into Bev’s eyes, blinding her. Not to mention every part of my body was a lethal weapon. Fingers, feet, elbows, knees, head. All could maim or kill.
But not, we realized, before Bev sliced open Mink’s throat.
So, Bruce and I just stood there. And did nothing. A whole lot of lethal nothing.
“Okay, okay,” I said, holding up my hands in surrender. “I’ll go with you.”
“Yeah, you will,” Bev said with a vicious glare.
I started to walk toward Bev.
“He’s not going anywhere.” We all turned and saw Mr. Spear coming down the stairs, a big shotgun pointed at Bev. “Get out of our home.”
“You shoot that thing,” Bev scoffed, pulling Mink tighter, “and you’ll kill both of us.”
Mr. Spear shrugged. “I’m willing to take that chance. I’ve used this gun to shoot wild ducks at a hundred yards, so I’m guessing your face will take most of the impact before anything reaches the girl. And if I’m wrong, well, I don’t even know her.”
Bev gulped while her face turned a pasty white. The thought of a couple dozen metal shotgun pellets ripping off her face convinced her to lower the knife. Mink spun away from her and screamed a name at Bev that I’m sure Bev had heard many times before.
Darlene stood at foot of the stairs, close to her husband. And since he was the only one with a gun right now, Mink and I decided to stand near him, too.
Mr. Spear gestured with his shotgun toward the front door and said, “Leave.” He was a man of few words but the ones he used I totally approved of.
An unfamiliar voice came from the top of the stairs, behind Mr. Spear. “Well, well, well. What have we got here? Custer’s Last Stand? Or Elmer Fudd Goes Wabbit Hunting?”
We all looked up. Standing at the top of the stairs was a thin man about twenty-five wearing a shiny black suit, white shirt, and skinny black tie. He also wore glasses with a thick black frame and red lenses, as if they doubled for ski goggles. His blonde hair was short and neatly combed. He looked like those guys that come to your door with religious pamphlets and big, happy smiles.