Zulfira brandished the Uyghur knife at Ren. Her attack had been so furious she’d not noticed that she’d cut her own hand each time she’d plunged the knife into Suo’s fat neck. At some point in the process the blade had snapped at the tang, leaving her with nothing but the handle in her blood-drenched hand. She dropped it and grabbed Hala, yanking her out of the way just in time.
Dumbfounded, Ren cried out in rage. His eyes shifted to the cleaver on the table, and he snatched it up. Zulfira blocked his exit, screaming for Hala to go in the bedroom and lock the door.
Ren brandished the gleaming cleaver. His voice was high and pinched. His chest heaved. “I promise you this,” he hissed. “I will not be so easy to kill.”
And he was right.
At once terrified and enraged at the sudden murder of his boss, Ren rushed forward, slashing wildly, intent on slicing Zulfira in half. She picked up a wooden bowl and pushed it out in front with both hands like a shield, but Ren had her on size and reach. One of his swings connected, opening a sickening smile of meat along the length of her forearm. The Uyghur knife she’d used so well to kill Mr. Suo clattered to the floor. Ren cackled maniacally, pressing forward slowly. Zulfira was now unarmed, bleeding profusely.
Without thinking, Hala grabbed one of the wooden chairs near the table and ran as fast as she could, pushing it ahead of her across the slick linoleum floor toward Ren like a battering ram.
Ren wheeled too late, catching the heavy wooden seat directly below his kneecaps.
A ragged scream boiled out of his throat. “You filthy Uyghur bitch! Do you think to win against a full-grown man? I will cut you into litt—”
Hala’s trick with the chair afforded Zulfira the opportunity to scoop up a paring knife and throw herself against Ren before he could react with the cleaver. Throwing her head back in a terrifying scream, she leaped onto his back and buried the little knife again and again in his neck and shoulder.
Unlike his boss, Ren expected the attack. He ducked his head to his shoulder, twisting and turning, making it virtually impossible for Zulfira to get the right angle. Though the blade did some damage and drew a copious amount of blood, none of the wounds were arterial or anywhere close to fatal.
The cleaver fell from Ren’s grasp at the same moment Hala’s feet squirted out from under her in the blood. She landed almost on top of the cleaver, grabbing it up as she rolled and bringing it down on top of Ren’s dress shoe, burying the sharp blade across his arch. It would have cut the front of his foot off, had Hala been stronger and her footing more secure.
Ren yowled, flailing for the cleaver, but missing it as his other foot shot sideways, like a goat trying to walk across a frozen pond. He hit the ground with a crack, groaning, rolling in blood. Zulfira fell, too, slashing, opening his cheek with her blade as she sought out his throat. The knife found a home in his shoulder. Ren roared, swatting her away. She landed on her butt, sliding backward, mopping blood on the floor.
Hala rolled away, crouching now, cleaver in hand. Ren wallowed to his feet, looking like he’d been dipped in blood. He drew the paring knife from his shoulder, dragging his injured foot as he hobbled toward a panting Zulfira. Hala slashed at his legs with the cleaver. Ren turned, coglike, catching himself with his good foot to stay upright at every shuffling step. He shook the knife at Hala. Blood and spittle spewed through clenched teeth.
“Whore! Mosquito. I will open your—”
On her feet again, Zulfira smashed a wooden bowl over the man’s head.
Stunned but far from out, Ren shoved her sideways, staggering backward from the blow.
Zulfira barely regained her footing. Blood covered her face and arms. “Run!” she wailed at Hala. “Go!”
Hala scrambled sideways, wheezing, unable to draw a breath. She tried to stand, but her muscles were made of stone. Her aunt’s sobbing cries, the wicked man’s screams, rattled inside her head, muffled and disjointed. Her back hit the wall. She was cornered.
Howling like a madman, Ren lunged for her — but Zulfira threw herself between them, grabbing the hand that held the knife and drawing it into her own belly, driving forward to topple Ren.
“Go!” Zulfira’s voice was a shattered scream as she fell on top of the startled man. “Leave, Hala! Leave now!”
Ren pushed the dying woman away, then lay there on his back, chest heaving, his shirt gleaming like red satin in the lamplight. He swallowed, head lolling, to look at Zulfira, who clutched her stomach, wracked with pain.
Ren started to rise. “B… b… bitch!” A cruel laugh escaped his swollen lips. “No one will even know you are gone…”
Outside Zulfira Azizi’s home, the man’s derisive laugh cost him his life.
