KING IDIOT?" The man's
voice was twisted, nearly screaming; his eyes were distorted. He was
beefy, too big to mess with. "FUCKING QUEER!" He took a step forward.
Patrick became oddly calm. There was a rock by his ankle, the size of a
grapefruit. He slowly flexed his knees and looked into the man's eyes.
Scoop the rock and smash his face, one motion. The man yelled again.
Patrick held his eyes. Time slowed. A stick snapped behind Patrick, and
the hair rose on the back of his neck. Sue hadn't moved. He was
trapped. He didn't dare turn his head.

"Let's get the hell out of here," a voice said behind him. "Fuck him,
let's get out of here, go get a beer."

"He's an asshole!"

"Yeah, fuck him, let's go get a beer."

The white face hesitated and turned away. The two crashed through the
woods, swearing and shouting.

Patrick put his clothes on as fast as he could. "I was going to kill
him," he said, in shock. "I mean, I knew how. It was already in me."
Sue smiled. "Get dressed, Sue! What if they come back?" She got to her
feet and stood naked on the rocks as though she were in her bedroom,
firelight flickering up her body.

He put out the fire while she dressed. His heart was still pounding as
they climbed up the bank and walked quickly to the car. "Did you see
the other guy?"

"He was in the dark," Sue said. "I couldn't see him."

"He sounded local," Patrick said. "He saved the scene. That guy was
flipped out, gone! Sounded like he was from North Carolina or some
place down there. He was gone."

It was a relief to be on the road.

"I need a beer," he said when they reached town.

"O.K., Patrick, see you," Sue said, stopping in front of the Depresso.

"O.K." He paused. "You are really beautiful." She made a wry smile that
said, "I already know that."

"Night, Patrick."

The next day, during coffee break, he told Wilson what had happened.
"Chicks," Wilson said.

"I never knew I could kill somebody," Patrick said. "I mean--I'm not
the violent type. But it was all inside me, like it was pre-wired or
something. I never looked at that rock, but I knew it was there."

Wilson sighed. "Knife comes in handy sometimes," he said. Patrick took
a folding Opinel out of his pocket. "Too small," Wilson said. His hand
brushed the black handle of the hunting knife he wore on his belt. "Bad
shit," he said. He stood up. "Gotta put the paint on the wall,
Patrick."

That night, Sue did not show up at the Depresso. A week later