Free Half Past Midnight by Jeff Brackett

in amazement. He sounded like a demented television evangelist. “Do you really believe that crap, or do you just use it to recruit these mental midgets you’ve gotten to work for you? ’Survival of the fittest’ doesn’t mean that anyone you kill is less fit than you. It’s a form of natural selection, and you don’t look like Mother Nature to me.”
    Seething, I continued, “Tell me something, Larry. If you’re so damn sure that you’re going to be a ruler in this ’New Era,’ then why are you the one sitting there with a hole in your shoulder? Eh? You’ve been beaten. My wife and daughter defeated you. Does that mean you’re going to serve them as your new masters?”
    “I was surprised,” he snarled. “Ambushed.”
    From the look on his face, he realized his mistake, but the words were already out. I pounced. “Like those people on the road out there? Does that mean that you should be killed, too?”
    He laughed. “You wouldn’t do that. You’re incapable of such an act. That is your weakness.”
    “Tell it to Edgar and Michael,” I snapped.
    “You didn’t kill them, Leeland. Your wife and daughter did, and then only to save your life. Only in self defense, as it were. All of you are incapable of killing in cold blood, even when you’re convinced it’s for the best. Am I not right? Aren’t all of you convinced that I am a murderer? And as such, don’t I deserve death? Don’t I?” He smiled. “You see? You’re incapable of making the hard decisions.
    “I had to have supplies. I set up an ambush and, when opportunity presented me with the appropriate caravan, I took it. ’Veni, vidi, vici.’ You couldn’t have done that, Leeland. You’re too weak.”
    I mulled over his words. “You’re right, Larry. Things have changed, and somebody has to make the ’hard decisions’ now.”
    I raised the pistol and aimed at his head. His eyes widened as I walked over to him. Then, he regained his composure. “You won’t do it. You can’t.”
    “You believe in God, Larry? You’ve got three seconds to get things right with Him before I pull the trigger.”
    “You’re bluffing.”
    “One.”
    “You don’t have the balls!”
    “Two.” I cocked the hammer.
    “B-bullshit. You can’t do it!” Terror in his voice, Larry clenched his eyes tightly closed, apparently finally convinced that I could. He abruptly began sobbing.
    I couldn’t resist. “Three!” I aimed at the ground and pulled the trigger. Larry screamed at the top of his lungs and jerked his body rigid, cracking his head on the ground. He must have shrieked for a full five seconds before realizing he still lived.
    I wasn’t sure what would have happened if he had remained defiant. Maybe I would have done it. I knew I truly intended to. But when he broke down, despite what he had done, I just couldn’t. I knelt next to him after he had quieted. “If I ever see you again, Larry, one of us won’t walk away from that meeting.”
    “You can count on it,” he replied shakily. The hatred returned, worse for his humiliation. “And I’ll be looking forward to it.”
    I turned back to Megan. She looked pretty shaken up. “You said you tied Frank up in there?” She nodded.
    “Was there any more rope?”
    She kept her pistol trained on Larry. “By the front door.”
    Inside, I found much more than rope. Boxes were stacked all over the interior. Some were marked as dried or dehydrated food, some as camping gear and, more interestingly, four crates were marked “Ammunition,” one “Dynamite,” and a smaller one labeled “Fuse Caps.”
    “Real nice place,” I muttered.
    As I grabbed the spool of nylon rope, I noticed Frank, gagged and bound, lying in the doorway of the bathroom. He was still out cold. The porcelain sink lay in three pieces, the largest piece bloody from almost stopping his head from impacting with the floor. Lying next to him was the roll of duct tape that Megan had used to tape his mouth shut. I took the