Die Trying

bar of bright moonlight.
    “I’m waiting, bitch,” the guy said.
    Reacher saw her face again. Saw she was beaten. The fight was out of her.
    “Want another kicking?” the driver said.
    There was silence in the barn again.
    “I’m waiting for an answer,” the guy said.
    Reacher stared over, waiting. There was still silence. Just the rasping of three people breathing hard in the quiet. Then Holly spoke.
    “What was the question?” she said quietly.
    The guy smiled down at her.
    “You wearing anything under that suit?” he said.
    Holly nodded. Didn’t speak.
    “OK, what?” the guy said to her.
    “Underwear,” she said, quietly.
    The guy cupped a hand behind his ear.
    “Can’t hear you, bitch,” he said.
    “I’m wearing, underwear, you bastard,” she said, louder.
    The guy shook his head.
    “Bad name,” he said. “I’m going to need an apology for that.”
    “Screw you,” Holly said.
    “I’ll kick you again,” the guy said. “In the knee. I do that, you’ll never walk without a stick, the whole rest of your life, you bitch.”
    Holly looked away.
    “Your choice, bitch,” the guy said.
    He raised his foot. Holly stared down at her mattress.
    “OK, I apologize,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
    The guy nodded, happily.
    “Describe your underwear to me,” he said. “Lots of detail.”
    She shrugged. Turned her face away and spoke to the wooden wall.
    “Bra and pants,” she said. “Victoria’s Secret. Dark peach.”
    “Skimpy?” the driver asked.
    She shrugged again, miserably, like she knew for sure what the next question was going to be.
    “I guess,” she said.
    “Want to show it to me?” the guy said.
    “No,” she said.
    The driver took a step closer.
    “So you do want another kicking?” he said.
    She didn’t speak. The guy cupped his hand behind his ear again.
    “Can’t hear you, bitch,” he said.
    “What was the question?” Holly muttered.
    “You want another kicking?” the guy said.
    Holly shook her head.
    “No,” she said again.
    “OK,” he said. “Show me your underwear, and you won’t get one.”
    He raised his foot. Holly raised her hand. It went to the top button on her suit. Reacher watched her. There were five buttons down the front of the suit. Reacher willed her to undo each of them slowly and rhythmically. He needed her to do that. It was vital. Slowly and rhythmically, Holly, he pleaded silently. He gripped his chain with both hands. Four feet from where it looped into the iron ring on the back wall. He tightened his hands around it.
    She undid the top button. Reacher counted: one. The driver leered down. Her hand slid to the next button. Reacher tightened his grip again. She undid the second button. Reacher counted: two. Her hand slid down to the third button. Reacher turned square-on to face the rear wall of his stall and took a deep breath. Turned his head and watched over his shoulder. Holly undid the third button. Her breasts swelled out. Dark peach brassiere. Skimpy and lacy. The driver shuffled from foot to foot. Reacher counted: three. He exhaled right from the bottom of his lungs. Holly’s hand slid down to the fourth button. Reacher took a deep breath, the deepest breath of his life. He tightened his hold on the chain until his knuckles shone white. Holly undid the fourth button. Reacher counted: four. Her hand slid down. Paused a beat. Waited. Undid the fifth button. Her suit fell open. The driver leered down and made a small sound. Reacher jerked back and smashed his foot into the wall. Right under the iron ring. He smashed his weight backward against the chain, two hundred and twenty pounds of coiled fury exploding against the force of his kick. Splinters of damp wood burst out of the wall. The old planks shattered. The bolts tore right out of the timber. Reacher was hurled backward. He swarmed up to his feet, his chain whipping and flailing angrily behind him.
    “Five!” he screamed.
    He seized the driver by the arm and hurled him into his stall. Threw him against the back wall. The guy smashed into it and hung like a broken doll. He staggered forward and Reacher kicked him in the stomach. The guy jackknifed in the air, feet right off the ground, and smashed flat on his face on the cobblestones. Reacher doubled his chain and swung it through the air. Aimed the lethal length at the guy’s head like a giant metal whip. The iron ring centrifuged out like an old medieval weapon. But at the last second Reacher changed his mind.