Page 126 of Everything Under the Sun

I had no more questions for Mark Porter. I felt both relieved and disappointed that he seemed to pass all of my tests. I didn’t want to kill the man; I didn’t want to add another death to my count. Each one sent me further into hell, made me feel less like a human and more like a savage.

Yes, I was relieved the stranger passed my tests.

The disappointment I felt came from being wrong about Mark Porter. How could I have been wrong?

“Are you all right?” Mark asked; he looked back at me from the center of the small trail.

I shook the thoughts from my mind.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I started moving again.

“Thought I’d lost you there for a minute—how far does this trail go out?”

“Half a mile at least,” I answered unemotionally. “There’s a rock bridge just up ahead; it leads over a creek. And a dirt road just beyond that. I’m sure you can find your way from there.”

“Thanks, man,” Mark said, walking in front of me. “There aren’t many good people out there anymore. You and your wife are a rare breed.”

My wife…

I said nothing. We kept moving.

Why am I still walking him?

“She’s…a pretty thing.”

I stopped cold, and rounded my chin, felt the bones in my fingers stiffening, the tick in my brain ticking.

Mark looked back at me.

“Hey, I uh…” he stepped closer by one foot, “…well I was thinking…I have something you didn’t see in my pack. Thought you might want to take a look at it.”

I stood motionless, like a tall, stone statue covered by shadow and purpose. Tick. Tick. I clenched my jaw. I listened. I waited.

Mark reached inside a hidden pocket on the side of his backpack and pulled out a black bandanna, the four corners tied into a knot at the top like a little pouch; its sides were full. With both hands, he worked the knot loose and pulled away the fabric, letting the corners drape over his hand. A little mound of sparkling jewelry sat on display in his palm.

“All real gold,” he said, his dark-circled eyes gleaming over the stash. “Some silver. And a few diamonds and one ruby.” He prodded the tip of his index finger in the tangled jewelry.

I looked at it. I looked long and hard.

“Yeah?” Mark traded his smile for a wolfish grin. “Thought that might catch your interest.”

I raised my eyes from the jewelry and looked at the dead man holding it.

“What are you proposing?” I asked; I was no longer gritting my teeth; the bones in my fingers were no longer stiff; the tick in my brain was no longer ticking.

I smiled at the stranger, vaguely, just enough to display my fallacious interest, my willingness to bargain, just to see him show his true colors.

Mark’s dirty fingers collapsed around the jewelry, and then he let his arm drop at his side.

“Well”—he shrugged—“I was thinking half of it for…an hour with your wife?”

“Hmm.” I crossed my right arm over my midsection, raised my left hand to my mouth where I dragged my fingers across my bottom lip contemplatively. “The thing is…well, my wife would never agree to it”—I held up a finger—“But…she’s worth more than half. And if you’d be willing to pay me what she’s worth, I’d be willing to overlook her begging me to stop you.”

The moment of truth.

The moment of truth…

Mark took deep breath, looked down into his hand again, the bandanna still covering the contents, and then he nodded.

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