“Fuck you!” Mack slams his mug down again. “I was there as a boy until my parents moved here.”
“No one moves west on purpose,” Joe says. He shakes his head and laughs. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You callin’ me a liar?”
Within seconds, a brawl breaks out. Joe, who is slightly less inebriated, ends up on top when they roll across the floor. He lands a couple of good punches before the bartender comes around the bar with a club in his hands.
It doesn’t take a clairvoyant to see what’s coming next, so I use the distraction to slip out the front door and around the side of the building. A couple of minutes later, the bartender throws both Mack and Joe out of the bar.
“I better not see you here tomorrow, either!” the bartender yells.
The two men eye each other for a moment before they burst into laughter. The bartender throws a few more curses at them before returning to his patrons inside.
“I guess I’m done for the night,” Joe says with a sigh.
“That’s what you get for being an asshole.” Mack runs his hands over his chest and thighs as if he’s looking for injuries.
“Fuck you.” Joe rubs at his chin as he laughs. “You going to go see that harlot of yours across the river?”
“I gave her a good fucking last night,” Mack says, snickering. “She’ll be sore for a month. After all the business I’ve given her, she refused me credit.”
“You fucked her anyway?”
“Bitch didn’t know who she was dealing with. I think I’m done with her, now. There are better whores on this side of the river.”
“More expensive ones,” Joe says. “How are you going to pay for that?”
“We’ll see. Now that she knows better, maybe the bitch won’t try refusing me next time.”
They begin to walk down the trail next to the river, and I follow silently behind them. Mack continues to go on about wine and pussy until Joe says his goodbyes and heads down a trail to the primary living area. Mack continues to stumble along the riverbank, mumbling to himself.
I follow behind with quick, silent steps. I keep close to the tree line though I don’t think my target is sober enough to notice what’s going on around him.
He pauses by the river to take a piss, and I know the time is right.
I creep up behind him slowly, knives drawn. Once I’m behind him, I use the handle of my knife to strengthen the punch to the back of his head. He drops to the ground immediately, one hand still holding his cock.
The blow to the head, combined with his drunken stupor, will keep him out for a minute or two, but I have to work quickly. First, I strip him naked and toss his clothing into the shallow water at the edge of the river. Next, I pull two thin lengths of rope from a pouch on my belt and quickly bind his ankles together. After his feet are secure, I roll him onto his stomach and go to work on his wrists.
He wakes just as I finish tying his hands and immediately begins to thrash against the bindings.
“What the—what the fuck?” He throws one shoulder up and back, trying to turn himself over.
I’m perfectly happy to help. I give him a push to get him supine on the ground and take a slight step back. I walk in a slow circle around him as I pull out the scarf I use when the ash clouds get thick. I stretch it out between my hands and then kneel near his head.
“Who the fuck are you?”
I silence him, using the scarf as a gag, tying it quickly around the back of his head. Once it’s secured, I look down at him and smile.
“I’m justice.”
Chapter 6
I wink at Mack as he struggles against his bonds and screams into the gag. He stares up at me with wide eyes, brimming with panicked tears. I lick my lips as my own excitement grows.
I stand and step back again, watching him squirm and listening to his muted, futile screams. After a minute, he stops. His eyes are clearer than they were before—his fear has sobered him up significantly—though the tears are still evident. He likely realizes he is only wasting his strength.
It doesn’t matter.