BUD
Nothing had gone right. The Man was still alive. How was The Man still alive?
Bud ran through the woods, rain soaking his tee shirt and jeans, tears soaking his face. Branches ripped at his cheeks and arms. Flashes of his confrontation with The Man tore at his soul.
“I’ll kill you.” Bud had pressed the gun to The Man’s temple, his own vision swimming from rage and whiskey. “I swear to God, I will make you eat these bullets one-by-one.”
The Man was unmoved. He smiled, mouth closed, eyes bright as daggers. “Bud, Bud. You aren’t going to kill me.”
Bud dug the barrel in harder. “Oh, yeah? Watch me.” Once he decided someone was going to die, they died.
So how had it all gone wrong…?
The Man’s ugly smile only deepened, the grin of a soul that lived in an even lower circle of hell than Bud’s own. The blood running down the side of his face only made him more sinister. “‘Killing ’em all gets so boring.’ Isn’t that what you told me once? Didn’t you tell me you were the cat that eats the legs off a spider, one-by-one? No, what you want is to torture me. Aren’t I right?”
Bud cocked his head noncommittally. “Sure. I can torture you first. I’ll leave you half a face if you like. You can have it for a whole hour. And then I’ll kill you. No one puts a hit on me. You told Jimmy Beacon I killed his sister. You sicced him and his bomb on me.”
“Jimmy who?” The folds of his smile diverted the trickle of blood. “I never heard of him.”
“Why, you—” Bud grabbed a fistful of The Man’s shirt.
“I’m not really the one you want to torture,” The Man whispered. His eyes delved deep into Bud’s, as if he were reading his soul like a book. “The person you want is beyond your reach. You can’t get to him to give him what he truly deserves—because he’s behind bars. The world is safe from him, and he is safe from you.”
Bud backed away, lowering his gun, jaw slack.
But why had he lowered his gun? Why had he let The Man get to him?
Bud stared in disbelief. “You didn’t…” was all he managed to say. He tilted his head, anger and injury mixing in a poisonous cocktail. “You had Skull investigate me?”
Lightning flashed, illuminating The Man’s face. “Of course I did.”
Bud crashed through thick bushes, the twigs and leaves scratching his bare arms. Where had he hidden his car? He couldn’t even remember. He was lost in the woods around The Man’s neighborhood, running frantically as if someone were chasing him. But no one was. No one but the ghosts of his past—and the voice of The Man ringing in his ears.
Bud had shaken his head in disbelief. Still, even if Skull had dug around in Bud’s past, there was no way he knew all of it. Even back in the day, there was hardly a soul who had known the truth. There was no way The Man knew—
But as The Man went on, sickening dread filled his entire soul. Dread that he didn’t have a secret in the world.
“The man you want is protected by too many people, by too many laws that were far too lenient for what he did to you. For what he did… to your lover.”
Bud began to shake.
“Maybe you simply never found the nerve to fight your way through to the bastard who murdered Zayne Mars. Maybe then, you didn’t know your own power. But ever since, you’ve taken out your fury on others. Innocent bystanders. After all, that’s what you and Zayne were. Just innocent bystanders, living your lives together in a world that hated you for being different.”
Bud backed away. His gun hand shook. He needed more control than this. He needed control…
The Man stared him down furiously, his keen eyes turning to rage, the blood dripping from his jaw. “You’ve lived nothing but murder and lies ever since. Do not threaten me for telling you the truth.”
Bud fell head-long in the mud, the tears streaming down his face. He grabbed fistfuls of muck, leaves, and roots. They squeezed through his fingers, escaping his grasp just as any hope of happiness had.
“Zayne,” he whispered to the night. Years ago, he had screamed it in the walls of his apartment, after seeing his boyfriend dead on the pavement. How could anyone hate so much? How could anyone hate something so beautiful as two human beings in love? What did it matter to anyone else?
“You want to torture the innocent?” The Man had asked, watching Bud’s tears fall as if every one were precious to him. “Then do so. You have my blessing. I understand.” And like a loving father, a pontificate who cared for his flock, he had welcomed Bud into his arms, let him lay his head on his shoulder, let him weep. “Believe me, I understand.” His voice shuddered with emotion as he said it.
“Zayne,” Bud whispered again. In all the years since Zayne’s death, the name had barely passed his lips. The only way to move on had been to forget. And to let the pain escape any way it could find a way. Once he decided someone was going to die…
He bowed his head and wept. Zayne would never recognize the animal he had become. Everything that had once been beautiful was gone.