Backtracker (23 page)

The more that Dave thought about it, the more he realized that a grab for the gun probably
wouldn
'
t
do any good. Most likely, it would make matters worse; if he
didn
'
t
snatch the weapon on his first try, Dave would probably aggravate and alienate his pal, lose his trust completely.

There was only one thing to do, he decided: keep talking, and hope that something that he said would bring Boris around.

"
Uh, hey Boris,
"
he fumbled.
"
I, uh...maybe you oughtta
'
forget about this, uh, target practice.
"

"
Uh
-
oh,
"
muttered Boris.
"
This is the part where you try to talk me out of it, right?
"

"
Well, no...I mean...no,
"
stammered Dave.
"
It
'
s just that...uh...I don
'
t...
"
Clueless, frustrated, stymied, he stared at his friend, at the gun in his grip. The more that he dug for inspiration in the hardscrabble of his mind, the more barren it became.
"
Well, actually, yes,
"
he sighed finally, his voice trailing off defeatedly.

"
Look,
"
Boris said testily.
"
Why don
'
t you just do us both a favor and get the hell out of here. I already know what you
'
re going to say, and I appreciate the sentiment, but I
'
d rather if you just hit the road right now.
"

"
I
'
m not leaving,
"
said Dave, as forcefully as he could with heart hammering and nerves jangling like wind chimes in a hurricane.

Huffing disgustedly, Boris lowered the gun, and Dave experienced a brief rush of relief. Then, however, the gun switched hands, and was lifted to the other side of Boris
'
skull.

"
If you don
'
t get outta
'
here right now,
"
Boris snapped curtly,
"
you
'
re gonna
'
have a real mess all over your shirt. Blood stains are the hardest to get out, y
'
know.
"

"
I
'
m not leaving,
"
Dave said firmly.

With that, Boris closed his eyes and started to sing.
"
Hap
-
p
y traaaails...to yooouu...
un
-
til...we meet...a
-
gainnnn...
"

"
Stop it,
"
sighed Dave.
"
Just stop it, Boris.
"

"
Hap
-
py traaaails...to yoouu...,
"
continued Boris, his voice growing louder.

"
Cut it out,
"
ordered Dave, becoming more peeved with his pal
'
s antics than worried about the gun.

"
...keep smi
-
ling...un
-
til then...
"

"
Cut it out, Boris
!
"
barked Dave.

"
Hap
-
py traaaails...to yooouu...
"

"
Shut up,
damnit
!
"
Dave shouted finally.
"
Shut the hell up!
"

At last, the serenade ended, and Boris dropped the weapon from his skull. Scowling at Dave, he flung himself from the rock, landing with a crunch on the ground.
"
Geez
!
"
he yelled, stomping away from the stone, flapping his arms in frustration.
"
Can
'
t you take a hint?
"

"
Hey,
sorry
!
"
flared Dave.
"
Excuse
me
for not wanting to let you blow yourself away!
"

Several feet from his former roost, Boris stopped and whirled to face Dave.
"
Get
outta
'
here
!
"
he hurled furiously, his big jowls quivering.
"
You don
'
t even know what
'
s going
on
here!
"

"
You
'
re trying to
kill
yourself!
That
'
s
what
'
s going
on
here!
"

"
Yeah, so
?
"
slung Boris.
"
It
'
s my prerogative! If I wanna
'
do myself in, it
'
s nobody else
'
s business!
"

"
Like
hell
it isn
'
t
!
"
shouted Dave.
"
It
'
s
my
business! You
'
re my
friend
,
remember?
"

"
You don
'
t understand
!
"
snarled Boris, waving the gun over his head.
"
I don
'
t
care
anymore! I don
'
t
care
what you think!
"

"
Why
?
"
asked Dave.
"
Why
don
'
t you care?
"

"
I just
don
'
t
!
"
yelled Boris.
"
End of story!
"

"
Y
'
know, you
'
re right,
"
said Dave, shaking his head.
"
I
don
'
t
understand. I mean, what could get you so
down
,
Boris?
"

"
Nothing
!
"
roared Boris.
"
I
'
m just
sick
of it! I
'
m sick of everything!
"

"
Why
?
"
pressed Dave.

"
Because it
sucks
!
Everything sucks!
"

"
Like what
?
"
persisted Dave.

"
Like
me
!
"
exploded Boris.
"
Me
!
I
suck! I
'
m a worthless piece of shit!
"

"
No you
'
re
not
!
"
Dave fired insistently.
"
Why the
hell
would you
say
that?
"

Boris gaped at Dave as if
he'd
just said the most asinine thing imaginable. He shook his head and sneered, then spun and stomped a few paces further from the stones.

"
How could you
say
that about yourself
?
"
asked Dave.

Boris stopped and again turned to Dave.
"
Look
at me
!
"
he ordered sarcastically.
"
What do
you
think?
"

"
I think you
'
re just fine
!
"
answered Dave.
"
I
don
'
t
think you
'
re a piece of shit!
"

"
Oh, brother,
"
snorted Boris.
"
Tell me the
truth
at least!
"

"
I am
!
"
glared Dave.

"
No
,
you
'
re
not
!
I
'
ll
tell you the
truth
! You
'
re thinking
'
Oh, God. The fat slob
'
s feeling
sorry
for himself! I better be a
hero
and make him feel better.
'"

"
Bullshit
!
"
snapped Dave, leaping from the rock.
"
I
'
m thinking that a
friend
of mine is trying to do something
stupid
and I don
'
t want him to
do
it because I don
'
t want to
lose
him!
"

"
Screw you,
"
Boris shunted bitterly.
"
You
'
re a lying son of a bitch.
"

"
No
!
"
hurled Dave.

"
Oh
!
"
burst Boris, bugging his eyes wide.
"
So you
don
'
t
think I
'
m a fat slob?
"

"
No
!
"
shouted Dave.

"
And you don
'
t think I
'
m fat?
"

At that, Dave faltered, realizing how Boris had trapped him. With great ease, the guy had led him into a corner; there was only one honest answer which Dave could deliver and still maintain any credibility.

"
Yes,
"
he sighed disgustedly.
"
Yes, you
'
re fat.
"

"
Ah
-
hah
!
"
lunged Boris.
"
That
is
what you think! That
'
s what
everybody
thinks! I
'
m
fat
! I
'
m a fat pig!
"

"
Is that what this is about
?
"
asked Dave.
"
You
'
re gonna
'
kill yourself because you
'
re fat?
"

"
You don
'
t understand
!
"
whipped Boris.
"
That
'
s all that
matters
to anybody! That
'
s how they all
think
of me! Mention my name, and the first thing they say is
'
Oh, that
fat
guy
'
!
"