Page 2 of Rattler
I grabbed the pot of spaghetti sauce still simmering on the stove in both hands and swung it at his head as hard as I could.Hot sauce went flying everywhere, and Tim dropped to the floor like a dead weight, the gun clattering across the tiles.
The kitten let out a startled meow and scrambled onto the counter inside the doorway.
I stood there, paralyzed by indecision, looking at the results of my action.It was hard to tell what was spaghetti sauce and what was blood.
Did I kill him?
I saw the faint movement of his chest.
He was still breathing.I’d just knocked him out.I hadn’t committed murder.My feelings of relief were short-lived.
Shit!When he came to, he was going to beat me within an inch of my life.If I was lucky.
He still might not make it.Depended on how much of that mess was blood and how much was spaghetti sauce.
Time to get the hell out of here.
Pivoting sharply, I opened the cupboard with my savings can in it and hesitated.
I didn’t have a wallet.Tim had taken it from me long ago.I snagged the cash and the one credit card I’d hidden from him and stashed the whole mess in my bra.What else?
The kitten let out another meow, louder this time.More demanding.
Right.Can’t leave the little critter here for Tim to find if he does come to.
I scooped the little thing up and ran to the bedroom.Grabbing my grungy old backpack, I opened the dresser drawer and threw some clothing in.Socks.Underwear.Leggings.
What else?
The kitten flicked out its little tongue and tasted my finger.What was I going to do with him?I remembered someone once telling me almost all orange cats were male.Not sure if that was true, but for now I’d assume it was.The sex of a kitten was hardly a priority.Slinging the backpack over my shoulder, I slipped into the bathroom to grab a towel and my toothbrush.
A noise from the kitchen sent a chill up my spine.Had I taken too long?
Hugging the little kitten tight, I tiptoed my way to the kitchen, trying not to make a sound.I let out a sigh of relief as the ancient fridge let out another low rumble.
Tim lay where he’d fallen, but as I watched, his fingers twitched.No telling how much longer he’d be out.Time to make myself scarce.
My gaze settled on the gun.It lay a few feet from him, where it had landed when he’d fallen.Probably a good idea to take it with me, even if I didn’t plan on keeping it.I sure as hell didn’t want Tim to have it if he came after me.
My dad had been a career cop before cancer took him.He’d taken me to the shooting range numerous times.Even if I couldn’t see myself using the weapon on another person, I knew how to engage the safety and how to handle it without anyone getting hurt.As far as I knew, Tim didn’t have another one.
I didn’t have a license for concealed carry, but once I was free, I could toss it in a dumpster somewhere or turn it into the police.I nixed that last idea.The police would want to know where it came from and why I was handing it over.Questions I didn’t want to answer.
I inched my way toward the gun, holding my breath.The kitten squirmed in my grip and I realized I was holding it too tight.Whispering a quick reassurance to the little guy, I reached down and grabbed the gun by the barrel, making sure to keep it pointed away from me.I had no idea if he’d chambered a round, or if the safety was still on.He’d been drunk enough to aim without doing either.
Gun in one hand and kitten in the other, I headed out the door.
* * *
The bus station was noisy, hot, and crowded.I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea or not.Could Tim find out where I went if I took a bus?Did they post that kind of information on their website?Maybe, but I didn’t have a vehicle, and I needed to put as much distance as possible between me and Tim before he regained consciousness.
Since my mom and her new husband lived in New York I figured he’d start looking for me in that direction.He’d never asked why I left, and I’d never told him.
If he survived, I was sure he’d come after me and try to make good on his threat.Maybe I was paranoid and he’d consider it good riddance.I wanted to believe he’d just swear a bit and move on, but deep down I knew that was a pipe dream.He was the kind of guy who’d want revenge.Yeah, he’d come looking for me.
The kitten, stuffed in the top of my backpack, didn’t make a sound.Maybe he was smart enough to know he had to be quiet, or maybe he was just used to staying out of sight so predators didn’t get him.Predators came on two and four legs around here, with the two-legged ones being nastier.The four-legged ones rarely killed for fun.
I headed over to the ticket counter.
