Kill or Die Read Online Free PDF Page B

us.”
    But it was Hell, not Heaven, that had come calling.
    A voice from outside, made louder by a megaphone, said, “Come outside now. All of you.”
    Adam told his wife and son to stay where they were and lifted his Winchester from the brackets on the fireplace. He stepped onto his deck and was blinded by two bright reflector lamps, shining like eyes in the darkness.
    â€œWhat do you want?” he yelled.
    â€œYou!” a man’s voice said.
    Adam brought up his rifle, but was immediately felled by a hail of bullets.
    â€œAdam!” his wife yelled. She ran to her husband and threw herself on his torn body. “Adam, Adam, please talk to me.”
    â€œHe can’t, lady,” a voice from the darkness behind the lamps said. “He’s dead. And now so are you.” A rifle shot rang out and Audrey joined her husband in death.
    Israel, fifteen and game, ran onto the deck and took in what had happened at a glance. He picked up the Winchester and had time to throw it to his shoulder before he was hit. Three shots to the middle of the boy’s forehead dropped him like a puppet that had just had its strings cut.
    â€œMr. Hughes,” Bonifaunt Toohy said. “Please step into the cabin and see if there’s anything else that needs killing.”
    Elias Hughes looked into the cabin then called from the deck, “Nobody else. Just those three.”
    â€œGood,” Toohy said. “Then our work here is done. A jigger of black rum to every man jack of you when we get back.”
    Seven killers, including steam engineer Mealy, cheered that lighthearted announcement.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    â€œMiz Evangeline!” Zedock Briscoe called out, his ebony face troubled. “You wake up now, Miz Evangeline.”
    Sometime in the night Evangeline had changed and now as she rose from her rocker her sheer robe of gold silk rustled. “Good morning, Mr. Briscoe,” she said.
    â€œLeft fish on the po’ch for you, Miz Evangeline,” Briscoe said. His tight, black hair was shot through with gray. “But don’t you go lookin’ at me none. I got young ’uns and you can’t turn me into a stone, no.”
    Evangeline picked up the fish and said, “Beautiful trout, Mr. Briscoe. I’ll have some for breakfast.”
    The black man stood in his pirogue, leaning on the spruce punt pole. He kept his eyes lowered. “Got bad news, Miz Evangeline. I head over to the Gantly place in the mornin’, two, three times a week, an’ give them poor folks some fish or a piece of hog meat.”
    Briscoe rubbed his eyes. “Went over there this mornin’ and they was all dead. Pa, ma and son, shot through an’ through, Miz Evangeline.”
    Flintlock had stepped onto the deck. His mouth was dry and he felt like hell. “Any sign of who did it?” he said.
    â€œYou one o’ them warlocks, mister?” Briscoe said. “I want no truck with warlocks. They mate with the female loup-garou, or so folks say.”
    â€œNo, I’m not a warlock,” Flintlock said. “I’m in the swamp looking for my mother.”
    Briscoe shook his head. “No, no sign. Just three dead white folks.”
    â€œI’ll go over there, Mr. Briscoe,” Evangeline said.
    â€œI wish you would, Miz Evangeline,” Briscoe said. “It ain’t right for them folks to be murdered and no murderer to be found.”
    â€œThank you again for the fish, Mr. Briscoe,” Evangeline said. “You take care now.”
    â€œYou too, Miz Evangeline. Take care.”
    â€œSam, there’s coffee on the stove and cornbread,” the woman said. “Eat fast. I want you with me.”
    â€œWhere’s O’Hara?” Flintlock said.
    â€œI don’t know. He took his canoe and left around midnight.”
    â€œDamn that breed, he never stays put,” Flintlock said. “I don’t even have a gun.”
    â€œYes, you do.