Fresh Flesh (28 page)

Richard moved toward him.

Roberts got to his feet, bringing the knife
up in the air, his face covered with blood.

Again, they collided. Richard caught Roberts'
wrist with the knife. With a quick move he twisted Roberts' knife
out of his hand and thrust it into his adversary's stomach. Roberts
moved back, stunned.

Richard grabbed his left arm, trying to fold
the flesh over, trying to hold it so he didn't lose all of his
blood. He didn't feel any pain, but he'd begun to feel dizzy.

Both men stared at each other, tired from the
fighting.

Roberts tried to pull the knife out of his
stomach and it wouldn't budge. Richard saw his chance and went for
the man's legs. Roberts wisely raised his knee, and shattered
Richard's nose against his face.

Richard Templin's body was becoming a mass of
red; a man who bathed in blood paint.

But he wouldn't quit. He got up, his nose
bloody, leg bloody, arm bloody and rushed again.

And again.

Again.

They went to the ground, Rolling and rolling
over each other, snarling as they battered each other with their
fists. Each roll thrust the knife deeper into Roberts' stomach.

"DIE! DIE! DIE!" they screamed in unison.

But neither wished to honor the other's
request.

Jessica reached the east side of the
island.

About five minutes north and I'll be at the
camp.

She remembered Richard telling her the first
time how close they were to the camp:
Too close
. Remembered
the terror she felt. Remembered and relived.

She was plagued by fear and regret as she
plunged through the ravine toward the camp.

Richard was on top of Roberts and pummeling
the man's face like a savage beast. Again! Again! Again! Again!
Again! Roberts face was a glove, his fist the baseball. Again!
Again! Again! Again! Gore and blood trailed the battle from
Robert's dwelling to the campfire to its current location about
twenty feet away from the campfire.

Roberts reached up and caught Richard's hand.
He twisted and pushed the man off him. His bloody hands went for
the knife sticking in his gut. He wrenched with all his strength
and. . .it moved. . .began to free. . .

Richard was on his knees. Staring. Panting.
Blood-covered and dripping Roberts came at him again. Richard's
fists were his only weapon now. He grabbed the knife and pushed it
back in Roberts stomach. Ground it in.

"DIE. DIE. DIE." Their voices had become
hoarse ordering each other to die.

Roberts grabbed the open flesh of Richard's
arm and a heinous smile curved on his lips.

Pain registered in Richard's eyes. Roberts
tore the flesh on Richard's arm toward him. Ripped it two inches.
The sound, itself, was excruciating.

"AHHHHHH." Richard jumped off him again. He
tended to the bloody flap of torn flesh on his forearm. Blood in
his body dotted a trail on the dirt ground.

Roberts returned to the knife in his stomach
that was aggravating his intestines and boring a new hole for
relieving excrement.

The battle was at a standstill.

She ran faster.

Faster,

Ron's voice, then Edward's voice.
Chickenshit, Jessica, that's what you are
. And then that odd
pool-ball cracking laugh of Edward's:
Chickenshit
.

She pounded through the ravine as if it
weren't even there. Up ahead she heard screaming.

Roberts and Richard.

Somehow she ran faster, a killer pace in
another place but too slow here.

I'm coming, Richard. Almost there.

Roberts could not get the knife out of his
stomach and knew it was fast becoming a mortal wound. He must
remove it before it killed him. He had to net Templin first. He had
to grab the flesh at his forearm again and tear it off. He couldn't
allow that bastard to kill him first. He must be the last con to
die.

Feebly, he rolled over and stared into
Templin's eyes.

"Die. . ." Templin gasped.

"You. . .DIE. . ."

Roberts crawled toward Richard. Reaching with
outstretched hands. Reaching for the man's throat. Found it.

Squeezing.

"DIE."

"DIE!" Roberts screeched. Squeezed.

Richard grabbed Roberts throat and returned
the favor. With every last bit of strength, they both squeezed.

"DIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!"

Squeezed.

That's when Jessica reached the gory
scene.

She stopped at the edge of the ravine and saw
the two men drenched in each other's blood, locked in each other's
clutches, gripping each other's throats, telling each other in
voices reduced to whispers saying "die, die, die." Roberts dwelling
lay in ruin thirty feet behind them.

Jessica picked up Roberts' knife lying on the
ground.

Jessica ran toward the fight.

Forty steps. She was that close. Forty
steps.

Richard could feel his body drifting and his
throat being crushed. His strength was leaving him. He knew Roberts
had to be close to choking out. Neither could squeeze any
longer.

He kept telling himself not to give up.
Dammit, Richard, DON'T GIVE UP. But he could see his body drifting.
. .drifting. . .and dying seemed the most pleasant thought. Just
give up, give in and die.

And then Richard saw Jessica's running toward
them.

"No," he tried to stop her, but his voice was
so hoarse and muted that it was unintelligible.

Jessica saw Roberts' back, open and
vulnerable. She was targeting to thrust the knife straight into
that opening.

Twenty steps.

Kyle Roberts saw her coming too. But then he
saw something else in the corner of his eyes.

Something that seemed to be on the woman's
shoulder and then inching up her neck with its wings fluttering.
More of them joined and landed on her body. A few at first, but a
dozen joined and then a dozen more.

Everywhere, butterflies everywhere.

Richard saw Roberts' eyebrows rise. Roberts
completely let go of his throat and actually began to get off
him.

Richard let go of Roberts neck, too.

Jessica was a moving blur.

Jessica was suddenly there.

Jessica brandished a very sharp knife.

"No, I've always loved and protected you,"
Roberts cried, holding up his arm. He covered his face. "No. .
."

Jessica was so focused on stabbing Roberts
back that she didn't see him stick out a foot and she tripped, the
knife flying from her hand. Jessica saw a half-broken bottle with
dirt in it near her hand and picked it up, turning on Roberts.

She used the jagged edge of the broken glass
as a weapon and jammed that into Roberts' back.

This time she said the word, "DIE."

And for a short moment time froze.

The glass sliced open his back and the dirt
entered his wounds.

Kyle Roberts eyes were wide and empty as he
gasped. The dirt burned his spine like acid. He remembered what Sar
had looked like with dirt covering his intestines. The dirt in the
glass was eating through Kyle's organs the same way.

"C is for. . .me. . .Condemned."

And wherever Kyle Roberts went on from there,
forty other wretched souls that had been exiled on the island were
released and followed.

Jessica rolled Roberts dead body off Richard
with tears clouding her eyes. All Richard could make out was her
face. "I. . .I'm. . .a mess."

"Oh, Richard, please don't die on me."

"You. . .you came."

"I couldn't leave without you. We're supposed
to leave together." She put her arms around him and held him
tightly. His head bobbed against her knees.

All he could feel now was pain. Pain had many
forms and Richard felt them all. He felt pain for not being able to
live the life he wanted, cheating death in the electric chair for
something
better
which turned out to be Jessica, and bodily
pain for his countless wounds.

"Richard, please don't leave me. . ."

"Listen," his vocal chords thrashed, he had
to get this out, "a part of me will always be with you. I love you,
Jessica."

"I love you, too."

He felt his body drifting away. He wanted to
tell Jessica goodbye but decided that that was not what it was. He
could see the huge birds of his dreams high above in the sky,
slowly moving toward him.

"Hold me."

"Richard, stay with me. There are boats out
there. A bunch of them. Don't leave me. We're going to get off this
island together. We're going to get on your raft and float to the
—"

Boats.

That was all Richard heard. The birds swooped
down and grabbed him. He let them have him for the first time,
knowing at last where the birds were taking him. He flew with them
high up and away. Past the waiting ships with a purpose he suddenly
knew. He couldn't help laughing at the irony.

The birds carried him into the clouds. Was he
going to an island this time? No. But it was a paradise, he
believed, because he felt no more pain. His body felt like it had
never been aged and beaten. He looked into the clouds and saw a
youthful reflection of himself. He had his full set of shining
white teeth back. He had his well-groomed hair. He had his boyish
face. He would never look sick, old and repugnant again.

It was quite some time before Richard looked
at the birds to see the faces that carried him to the land of
unknown. He was not surprised to see the faces were all the same.
He had been right. He had told Jessica he'd always be with her and
he wasn't lying. All the birds had Jessica's shining face.
Jessica
.

"We're going to get off this island together.
The boats. . .the
boats
. Richard, please don't leave me.
Don't leave. . .me."

A part of me will always be with you.

Jessica closed Richard's eyes and her own
while she wept.

A few minutes passed before she stood, still
staring at Richard. His face was not drawn up in the horrible
grimace that Roberts was in. He looked, in spite of things, at
peace with his passing.

A part of me will always be with you.

Jessica dug a grave for Richard with her bare
hands ten feet from the spot where he had died. It wasn't a very
deep trench, only deep enough to fit his body. She kept crying the
whole way through. She remembered Richard burying Bobby and how
she'd insisted he be the one to do it. It seemed so long ago.

In death he finally joined the east side of
the island.

She laid Richard's body in the grave and
covered it with dirt, patting it with her hand.

She turned and looked briefly at the corpse
of Kyle Roberts and decided to let him rot where he lay.

From memory, she remembered the Japanese
phrase Richard had used after burying Bobby:
S
hinin no
waruguchi wa yokunai.

Speaking ill of the dead is not good.

She looked at the east island graveyard one
last time and left.

It was hard not looking back.

She made it to the raft about fifteen minutes
later. She had no problem finding it.
We have the best chance
during the day.
, the raft seemed to whisper.

Beside the raft, as innocent and alone as its
creator was a tree-branch spear. She put the spear in the raft and
started dragging it toward the beach. The raft didn't weigh as
heavy as it looked.

Thirty minutes later she reached the beach
and stopped, exhausted. She saw even more ships out there now in
the distance.

Jessica sat down on the raft and stared at
Richard's greatest creation on the island. Many of his memorable
words, many of their memorable times, kept moving across her
brain.

After a short time, she began to feel his
eyes staring down at her.

A part of me will always be with you.

And suddenly those eyes became hands,
Richard's hands. They were rough, hard-worked, calloused, warm and
wanting. Reaching and longing for her.

Overwhelmed with loneliness, she turned
around.

Sure enough, a pair of hands were there and
reaching to grab her neck.

Hands that didn't belong to Richard.

Hands that belonged to a man covered in moist
dirt and sand. He looked like he had gone into the ocean naked and
then rolled around in wet sand.

"You aren't going anywhere," the man said,
his voice a grating noise as if rubbing across sandpaper.

Jessica leaned forward quickly enough to
throw Torque off balance. He tumbled over her, losing purchase on
her neck, plunging into the sand.

Not over
. Jessica thought.
It goes
on and on in this purgatory
.

The dirt-man struggled to his feet, offering
his monstrous hands.

"You'll die again, bitch." He charged
her.

Jessica tried to roll away, but the madman
caught her neck in his hands.

His dirt-infested hands started to twist in a
familiar motion.

To torque.

Somewhere in Torque's battered brain, he knew
the bitch beneath him wasn't Nina, but it helped to numb the pain
coursing through his body to focus on Nina's face and not this
stranger that his Dark Lord wanted.

"You're coming with me," Torque said,

DO NOT LET HER ESCAPE.

Yes, my Dark Lord
.

BRING HER TO THE SOIL.

And even though he didn't know Jessica
Stanton, it seemed most compelling, and certainly most fitting,
that she should be just-another-Nina in disguise.