A lead slug slams into the rocky ground by Hobart’s feet and he recoils into the air. Stone shards spray up into his exposed shins, leaving them stinging and raw. Hobart takes frantic, clumsy steps back, his eyes fixed firmly on the gun in Haley’s hands.
“Give me one good reason not to kill you,” Haley yells.
The gun’s concussive report still echoes in Hobart’s ears, so the yelling is more than justified. “Because that’s not what you do,” he calls out, stumbling back and glancing over his shoulder to check his surroundings. A lone tree stands behind him at the edge of a hundred foot drop. It is anemic and malnourished, its roots clinging to the nutrient-poor rock. Behind Haley an irregular line of trees stands tall, silent witnesses to what Hobart assumes will be his final moments.
Haley smiles in disgust and amusement. “You’re right,” she replies, taking aim at his chest. “Normally I’m the merciful one, but what have you done to deserve mercy?”
Hobart gulps and winces. She’s got her finger on the trigger. Definitely not something someone does when honoring gun safety. “Is this about Daniel?” Hobart asks, feigning innocence. “Because I had no way of knowing he was gay, and I promise he didn’t leave you for me, I’m into women and…”
Haley’s whole body shivers explosively and she pulls the trigger while dropping her aim back at his feet. Hobart jumps back and trips, his left hand scraping along the hard, flat rock of the cliff until it slips off the edge. He whirls around to face the drop-off, watching tiny stones and twigs careen down into the forest below. “This is not about Daniel,” she shrieks, leveling the gun at his chest with a trembling hand.
Hobart slowly gets back to his feet, his palm hot and seeping blood. He holds both hands up and glances behind him. His feet are dangerously close to the edge. “Hey,” he says, his voice soothing and calm, but still wavering with fear. “I remember how upset you were when he called off the engagement. I thought maybe you blamed me.”
Haley takes a long, deliberate breath and glares at Hobart through narrow eyes. “I do blame you, but I would never kill you over a lover’s quarrel.”
“Again, I’m straight. Didn’t love him.”
Haley’s jaw tightens and she draws in another deep breath through flaring nostrils. “Leave Daniel out of this. You know what this is about.”
Keeping his hands up, he shrugs and grimaces. “Actually, I have no idea.”
Haley drops her head to the side and rolls her eyes. “Oh really.” She groans and lets the gun wielding hand drop to her side with an exaggerated shrug. “Alright, well I guess that’s that then. I guess I just wasted the last year of my life following fake clues, gathering false evidence, and tracking down leads that lied to me. I guess I ruined my reputation with the local police department for nothing too, is that right? Have I been wasting my whole life for the past, oh I don’t know, fifteen months then Hobart?”
The way she sneers his name sends a chill down his spine. This is it. He is going to die. She is really going to kill him. Hobart tries to laugh it off, but pure terror grips his heart and he chokes. Beads of icy sweat gather around his forehead like a crown. But he doesn’t feel kingly. “I don’t know,” he says, trying to play it casual, “sounds like a pretty good time playing sleuth.”
Haley plants both feet firmly on the ground, shoulder width apart, and takes aim down the sights of the handgun. She raises the barrel from his chest to his head. Hobart instinctively bends his knees and lowers himself, but she keeps the weapon trained on him with terrifying precision. “Were you playing, Hobart? Was it all a game for you? All those women and children, were they just…” she sucks in a shuddering gasp of air, “a game to you?”
Hobart freezes. How many does she know about? Does she have enough evidence for a conviction? Of course, if she takes the role of judge, jury, and executioner, this is the end of the line, but… “So bring me in,” he offers, trying to mask his quivering voice. “I’ll go peacefully with you. Take me to the police station, give them all of the evidence you collected, and let a jury convict me.”
“So you admit it then?” She raises an eyebrow. A forceful gust of wind rushes across the ledge where they stand, whipping Haley’s ponytail over her shoulder.
In another reality, our roles would be reversed, he thinks. Suddenly it’s all he can think of. He pictures her tied up, tears streaming down her face with a sock stuffed into her mouth, duct taped in place…
“Do you admit it?” Her voice is authoritative and forceful. He can already feel the blast from the gun, a future phantom of molten lead burning a hole between his eyes.
Nervously, he glances down and over his shoulder. The cliff is right there. He wonders if death by bullet is better than death by impaling or impact. Could he survive the jump? He inches closer to the ledge. “It would be up to the jury,” he says, his voice growing softer as he contemplates his fate.
She hesitates. She knows it’s wrong. She has to, right? She’s a good person. Good people are so easy to predict, so easy to manipulate…
“Listen,” he begins smoothly. A flash of light and a deafening crack in the air takes him by surprise. His ears are ringing as he stumbles back, eyes wide. She missed, but then again, she didn’t need to be the judge, jury, and executioner. Nature will take it from here.
Hobart’s left foot finds the edge of the rock and for a brief moment he believes he will live. A worried smile spreads across his pained face, and he locks eyes with Haley. In her gaze he sees fear, regret, doubt, and…
Momentum continues carrying him backward and he attempts to catch himself with his right foot, but there is nothing there for his foot to land on. His eyes widen further as he tilts out into empty space.
He maintains eye contact with Haley as long as he can. Pride. That’s the last thing he sees in her eyes. Those beautiful, crystal clear eyes that shine like glistening honey are full of pride. Gravity becomes meaningless as the trees below rush up through space toward him. The last thing he realizes is that he was wrong. The fall is much more than a hundred feet.
This story is based on a prompt from Reedsy Prompts. Specifically, this prompt:
View my contest entry [here].
Mermaid Pirate Dispatch 
Leave a comment