The Killing Hour by Paul Cleave Read Free Book Online

do if some guy is trying to kill us. I figure he’s just looking out the window and telling it like it is.
    I have woken with a small headache, a dry mouth and the flavourless dregs of a dream. There’s no difficulty in separating the dream from reality – I only have to look over at Jo to know what’s really going on. I have abducted her. I have stolen her away from her life and in that action I’m starting to become the monster Cyris is. Though my dreams were full of death and murder I was a hero, yet from the moment I stepped out of my Honda I was a hero doomed to fail. I don’t even know what I am now.

    There was a point where I thought I was going to succeed. Cyris was on top of me, the hard ground was digging into my back, the night air was still and there were no signs of life outside of our small trio. I managed to throw my head up and crack my forehead into his nose and I used that momentum to push him backwards. I got to my feet and raced for the torch. He knocked me off balance before I made it and my tangling legs had me back on the ground within seconds. When Cyris brought his knife down towards me his intentions were clear, and in the weak edges of the torchlight I knew death wasn’t giving me up as a lost cause.
    It all came down to luck then. I reached out with both hands, preferring to have my hand skewered rather than my chest. My arms straightened without encountering a thing because I’d thrown them too soon. They arced inwards and clapped together right onto the blade. Had I tried this deliberately I’d have had my fingers scattered over my chest. The knife slid between my hands harmlessly as my palms slowly gripped it. It kept moving until the hilt pressed against the tips of my fingers. I looked like I was praying.
    I pushed my arms to the side to redirect his balance. The moment he began to topple I used my right palm as a hammer and nailed it into the base of his broken nose. It loosened his grip on the knife, and a fist into his face made him let it go entirely. There was no room for hesitation. I picked the blade up and plunged it ahead. The blade hit something hard before slowing down and it felt like I was pushing it through wet cement. I kept pushing until it came to a complete stop. For one moment we were frozen and then his mouth dropped open and the air that rolled out smelled like spoiled meat.

    I dragged myself from beneath him and listened as his fingers slowly tapped out a death march against the handle. The silence then was complete, heavy and thick, an emptiness of sound that pushed into my ears and into my mind, crushing my thoughts. I had killed a man and it felt good.
    I look over at Jo. She’s staring silently at me, looking me up and down. My clothes look like I’ve ironed wrinkles into them. The cuts on my face are slowly starting to heal.
    I use the bathroom, then head into the kitchen. I start making coffee, hoping it will help dilute the weird feeling of waking up in a strange room and worrying about kidnapping and death. I untie Jo and take out the gag but she continues her silence. I don’t know what to say to her. I fight the urge to call out ‘sorry’ over and over as she uses the bathroom. She takes her suitcase in with her and when she comes out she’s changed into a T-shirt and a pair of cargo pants.
    ‘I made you some coffee,’ I say. She doesn’t bother to thank me as she picks it up. I sit well back in case she throws it in my face. ‘Look, I know that this must seem pretty weird …’
    ‘Weird? Jesus, Charlie, it’s gone way past weird.’
    ‘Sure, maybe you’re right, but …’
    ‘But what? But it’s going to be okay? Is that it? You tied me up and now you want me to be your friend?’
    ‘I wasn’t going to put it like that.’
    ‘Whatever. I’m hungry. Are you going to make me starve too?’
    ‘There isn’t any food here.’
    ‘Then let’s go get some.’
    ‘Why? So you can ditch me the first chance you get?’
    ‘I’ve had all