Sledgehammer

The Man Who Wouldn't Die – Episode 7 | Flash Fiction #36

Last time on The Man Who Wouldn’t Die…

Bee and her friends made it to Kirkwall to meet Betty… and someone less than friendly.

If you haven’t read any episodes, please find Episode One linked below.

The Man Who Wouldn't Die (AV Edition)

And now for the continuation…

Photo by Ian Talmacs on Unsplash

“Where are our children?” Betty demanded.

“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll see them soon enough,” Uther, the leader of the scavengers, put on a jovial smile and gestured to his lackeys to round up everyone. “Bee the Huntress, where’s your little spoon?” he teased.

Bee tensed, her heart telling her to cut them down where they stood, but there were too many of them and too many innocent people, so she stood still, her eyes fierce as fire.

“That’s what I thought. Lost your sting, eh?” Uther set down his sledgehammer on the marble floor with a loud clang and leaned on it, eyeing the congregation with sordid amusement. “Cuff that Beetch. If she tries anything funny, kill her.” He pointed at Vee.

Two scavengers grabbed Bee, twisting back her arms and bound her. Vee shook her head ever so slightly, signalling Bee to stand down, and they bound her, too. The rest of his men herded the townspeople like cattle, pushing, shoving, and hitting, their sharp implements eager to draw blood and cut whoever happened to be within reach.

Vee surmised that this Uther character was itching for a chance to smash in some skulls with his massive steel hammer, the hilt covered in countless notches. His pockmarked face, a deep scar running from his scalp across his clouded left eye all the way down to his chin, spoke of deep-rooted, unresolved anger issues. He was a brute, muscular and single-minded, having risen in the ranks in a world of chaos and neglect where power over people was the ultimate commodity.

“Look ‘ere, good man. Ye’ve got us. There’s no need to keep the children now. Why don’t ye release them? They’re innocent,” Samson appealed to Uther’s tone-deaf conscience.

Uther turned to Samson, raised one eyebrow, and his face derailed into a maniacal grin, followed by an amused headshake. He raised his index finger and pointed at Samson.

“You hear that, guys? Innocent, he says!” Uther cackled. “Innocent!” Uther fell silent, slowly walking up to Samson, dragging his hammer behind him, scraping over the stone.

“Innocent, eh? And who might you be? Another innocent?” Uther’s face was so close to Samson’s that his foul breath made Samson take a step back.

“There’s no need for that. We’ll come. We won’t make any trouble,” Betty begged.

“Shut your hole, old hag,” Uther didn’t look at Betty as he spoke, raising his hammer in one hand, pointing at the cross above the altar. “Ready to meet your maker, innocent man?”

A flash of steel, a wet smacking noise, a cracking of bones, and with a soft thud, Samson’s body fell to the floor, blood and brain splattered across the white marble stone. Down came the hammer again, and the church fell silent. No one dared to breathe. No one quite yet understood what had happened. Then someone vomited, followed by gasping and crying in disbelief.

Bee stared horrified at her friend, lifeless on the ground before her. Then she looked at Uther, and in her mind, she pictured what she would do to this man, not now but soon. Very soon.

“Anyone else feel like speaking up? Anyone? No? That’s right. You keep your filthy mouths shut and do as I say, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll see your worthless brats again.” Uther turned to the hunters. “And you two, don’t think for a moment we won’t do the same to those squishy little rats if you try anything. Capiche? —Now, move!” Uther shouted, swinging his hammer over his shoulder, blood still dripping from it.

The scavengers separated them from the rest, and that was the last they saw of Betty and her people. They didn’t know what would happen to them, whether they would live or not, and Bee did not want to think about it. She could not; all she could think about was slowly gouging out Uther’s eyes with her spoon.

Out onto the ice, they marched towards Brae, a small group of scavengers led by Uther. It was a full day’s journey, and after a while, Vee had trouble keeping on her feet until, at last, her strength failed her, and she collapsed, dragging Bee down with her. Vee groaned, rolled onto her back, stared into the cloudless blue sky and let out a laugh.

“Get up, you crazy skag,” Uther spat, standing over her, blocking out the sun.

“Don’t you think it’s funny?” Vee managed between fits of pain and laughter. “We would’ve gone to Brae anyway.”

“Ha ha, very funny, yeah. Once, there were two little Hunters on their way to the lion’s den. Why, it’s dangerous out here… the ice might take them, and no one would ever know otherwise,” he grinned.

Bee signed something offensive at Uther, and he looked at her for a moment as if he understood. He mimicked her, lifted her to her feet, sniffed her face, licked her cheek, and said, “You taste like honey, little Bee. Maybe I’ll have some of that sweet wet pot.” He guffawed, his hands all over her. She pressed her body against his, went for his earlobe and bit down hard.

Uther screamed. He punched Bee, slamming her to the ground. His ear was bleeding profusely. He touched the flapping, loose end and tore it off with a quick yank.

“That Beetch bit off my earlobe!” He stared at her and then started to laugh like a maniac. “Ha ha ha, the little Bee has teeth! We’re going to have so much fun. You and me.” Earlobe in hand, he bent down, smeared the piece of soft flesh across her cheek, across her lips, and left it on her chest. Then he stood, shouldered his hammer, blood dripping from his ear, eyes distant. “Get them up. Drag them the rest of the way if you have to. We’ll be in Brae by nightfall.”

They continued their march.

Why did you laugh? Bee gave Vee a questioning look.

Because he’s dead already, signed Vee.

Will Bee use her spoon? What awaits our hunters in Brae? Stay tuned for the next episode in two weeks!

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