Envy Mass Market

“Can’t help you, buddy. I’m a cripple, remember?” He shook his head ruefully. “I’ll admit this isn’t the way I had the ending plotted. I never intended for you to die. I wanted to give you a taste of what it’s like to face your mortality. To experience that all-encompassing terror. I wanted to scare you into confessing your sins. I wanted you to grovel and beg me for your life. And you did. It was supposed to end there.”

He laughed. “I realize that you’re panicked, Noah, and that your mind is preoccupied with surviving. But I hope you’re thinking clearly enough to grasp the irony of this situation.

“Think about it. I’m your only hope of

salvation. But I’m powerless to save you because of the injuries you inflicted on me. That’s rich, isn’t it? It’s a shame that neither of us will have the opportunity to use it in a book. It’s the kind of built-in irony that Professor Mike Strother loved.”

At the mention of their mentor’s name, the distance between them seemed to shrink. Their eyes made a connection that was almost audible. Parker spoke softly. “You have one more sin to confess, don’t you, Noah?”

“I had to be first, Parker. I had to be.”

“Professor Strother hadn’t heard from either of us for more than a year. All his correspondence had been returned unopened, addressees unknown, no forwarding addresses. He was puzzled and slightly offended by our sudden and inexplicable disappearance.

“He didn’t realize you’d sold The Vanquished until he saw it in his local bookstore. He recognized the title and your name immediately, of course. He purchased a copy. He was curious to read how you had finalized your manuscript. He wanted to see if you had incorporated any of his suggestions. Naturally, he was proud that one of his students had written the novel that was all the rage, the topic of conversation at cocktail parties and beauty shops and office commissaries, the book that was on every bestseller list.”

“Parker—”

“Now imagine Professor Strother’s surprise when he settled into his reading chair, adjusted his lamp, opened his copy of The Vanquished by Noah Reed. And read the first page of my book. My book, Noah!”

“It was that letter,” Noah shouted back at him. “Strother always favoring you. Always thinking you were the one with the most talent. He thought your manuscript was so fucking fine. I thought I’d test it, get a second opinion. One day while you were out, I went into your computer and printed out a copy. I put my title on it and submitted it under my name.”

“And when it sold, you had to get rid of me. Immediately. That day.”

“That was the plan.”

“Bet you shit when I turned up alive.”

“It gave me pause, but I didn’t panic. I hurriedly put your book into my computer, and mine into yours. You couldn’t have proven your claims to the authorities because by then I had painted you as unstable and violent.”

“Strother always gave you credit for clever plotting.”

“Our dear professor was another concern, but I figured that if he ever came forward and tried to expose me, I’d…”

“You’d think of a way to worm your way out.”

“I always have.”

“Until now.”

“At least I’ll die knowing that you’re right behind me. You might even beat me into hell.”

“You think so?”

“You can’t crawl along on your belly fast enough to get out of here now, Parker.”

“No, but I can walk fast enough.” Then, as Noah watched with mounting disbelief, Parker struggled to his knees and then stood up.

“You cocksucking son of a—”

“It’s a Mackensie Roone trademark, Noah,” Parker said, smiling down at him. “Save one final plot twist for the very, very end.”

“I’ll kill you, Parker. I’ll see you in hell! I’ll—”

“You all right, Mr. Evans?” Deputy Sheriff Dwight Harris rushed through the door, accompanied by two other deputies.

“Exhausted,” Parker told him. “Otherwise okay.” He depressed a button on the remote control and the flames immediately died.

“Fire truck’s outside. We were getting worried.” Just then the spray from the fire hose struck the exterior wall with a hard whomp.