L A Woman Page 12

  “Okay, when? Time’s getting a little short here.”

  I looked up at the building walls on both sides. No fire escape, and maybe twenty feet to the flat-roofed top. The trucks rumbled closer, shoving the tumbling, churning dumpsters ahead of them like a flesh-rending metallic wave.

  I said, “When the piles of dumpsters get close, climb up on them and try to go over the top of the truck.”

  Jett’s eyes got big, “That’s your plan?”

  “If I can get up high enough, maybe I can shoot down into the cab at the driver and stop it.”

  “Yeah, while those things grind you into hamburger. Let’s try the walls.”

  Jett went to the brick wall and felt of the grooves. She shook her head. “Too shallow.”

  We only had about fifteen feet left before they reached us. Hondo wasn’t going to make it in time. I readied to jump on the moving metal wave.

  At that moment, I heard shooting coming from beyond the front trash truck. “That’s Hondo,” I said.

  We watched in that direction and heard the staccato shooting get closer, faster, and then I saw Hondo coming across the top of the garbage truck at a run.

  He didn’t stop, but leaped into the air and shot down through the window into the driver in the truck, then as fast as he could swing his arm and fire, shot the other driver.

  I helped catch him as he landed. But the drivers must have wedged the gas pedals down, because the trucks continued closing on us.

  “Why didn’t you shoot the keys in the ignitions, graze the top of them to turn off the engines?” I said.

  He said, “Next time.”

  Hondo slipped his pistol in the holster and put his hands against the brick wall. The moving metal was less than ten feet from us, screeching closer every second. Hondo said, “Climb up, then Jett can climb up on your shoulders.”

  It might have worked, too. Jett could have reached the top and been safe. We still had a lot to learn about her. She said, “Uh-uh. I stay with you two.”

  Hondo looked at her, then used his finger to move a strand of hair from her face.

  I said, “Enough flirting. Get ready to run up them and over the top.”

  Hondo’s eyebrows went up. “That’s your plan?”

  Jett said, “I’m ready. See you two on the other side.”

  I said, “See, Jett likes it.” I could tell we weren’t going to make it. Nobody can scale a moving mass of clanging, roiling metal some twelve feet high. Nobody.

  I took a deep breath and got in a running stance. The metal waves continued to close. Eight feet of space left, then seven, six, five…

  I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and glanced at the brick wall. A thick electrical cable dropped down and hung in a U, swinging back and forth. Hondo and Jett saw it at the same time and we looked at the top of the building. Magilla’s head appeared.

  Hondo drew his pistol, but I bear hugged him and yelled, “No!”

  Magilla bellowed, “Grab it!”

  “He’s okay,” I said in Hondo’s ear and released him. Hondo didn’t question me and he pushed Jett to the cable.

  I looked at the approaching metal walls and saw one of us might make it, but not two, and definitely not three.

  “Go ahead, Jett,” I said.

  Magilla’s voice rumbled again, “All of you! Grab the cable!”

  All of us?

  “All of you grab the cable! Now!”

  I winced as a corner of one dumpster wacked into my ankle. We had no more time. Hondo pulled me to the wall and said, “Grab it!”

  I did, but knew that I would let go the second it looked like Magilla couldn’t lift us all free. Better two saved than none. I didn’t look at Hondo because I knew he could read my thoughts. I also knew I couldn’t hesitate because Hondo would think the same thing, and I had to be faster than him. I had to let go first.

  “Hold on!” Magilla yelled. He had the cable looped over his shoulder and down his back and around his waist, like a mountaineer uses his rope to lift or lower his partners. He put his feet against the inside of the parapet and we felt the cable tighten, then Magilla did movements like squats and used his legs, back and arms in the pull. He used the friction of the cable around his body to milk the line shorter and shorter with each effort.

  The metal dumpsters were so close that Hondo put his feet against them and pushed a couple to the side so we could slip by as we felt ourselves rise with every incredible, powerful pull.

  The dumpsters met below our feet and ground to a halt in a tangled mass of green metal and trash and Shamu, and then suddenly we were at the roof parapet and over it onto the safety of gravel and tar.

  Magilla pointed over his shoulder with a thumb the size of a cucumber and said, “Ladder’s at the back of the building. Let’s go.”

  I looked where he pointed and saw the ladder extending a foot above the parapet. I heard an engine start up somewhere below there, and then the boom lift’s bucket rose above the edge of the roof and stopped. A large piece of steel plate balanced in the bucket. I said, “What the-“

  A man peeked around one side of the plate, grabbed the ladder and pushed it off the roof, then he leveled a pistol at us.

  “Gun!” I yelled.

  Magilla jumped in front of Jett as the man fired and I heard the bullet whap into something. I drew, but was slower than Hondo, who fired so fast it sounded like one rolling sound. I fired with him and our bullets clanged off the steel plate. Magilla began shooting too, with a .44 magnum that looked like a kid’s toy in his hand.

  The man behind the plate had a partner who started shooting from the other side. I shifted my aim and put three rounds right at the edge of the metal and made him duck behind it.

  Hondo reloaded and fired another clip in about half a second, then started on his third clip. I looked around for another escape, but there was no way off our roof except jumping. I ran toward the next alley and building, hoping to get a better angle for a shot. I fired again and drove one guy yelping behind cover as bullet fragments hit his gun hand. The alley between the next building and us was maybe twenty feet wide. A long aluminum ladder lay on the far roof. I couldn’t jump it, so I turned back to the shooters.

  That’s when Magilla moved. And I mean moved. He charged them, shooting as he ran. I fired to keep the men down, and so did Hondo.

  The bucket was maybe fifteen feet from the edge of the building and I guess those men thought that would keep them safe. But they didn’t reckon with Magilla Sykes.

  Magilla sprinted toward them and launched his massive body high into the air. I saw a crimson stain low on the back of his shirt as he sailed towards them.

  He crashed down on the bucket like some human asteroid and I heard the men scream as Magilla pinned them under the metal plate and his weight and momentum made the enormous boom lift shift and groan.

  Then it tilted sideways.

  The boom lift fell slowly at first, then faster as it disappeared from our sight. We heard men yelling, then the crash and screech of metal slamming into pavement. It went over like some mechanical dinosaur toppling on its side in a last, agonizing moment.

  We ran to the edge and looked down at the wreckage.

  Hondo yelled, “Sykes!”

  Magilla didn’t move. A man who had worked the lift from below staggered to his feet and looked around, then drew his pistol and started to raise his arm.

  Hondo shot him.

  Hondo yelled again at Magilla, “Sykes!”

  Magilla’s hand moved. Jett grabbed my arm and squeezed, but she didn’t say anything.

  CHAPTER 15

  A gun boomed from far down the street and I felt a bullet thup by my ear. Even from a hundred and fifty or so yards away, I recognized John Wesley and his cowboy hat. He had half a dozen men with him and they were walking our way. One of them had a rifle.

  “Put your fingers in your ears,” Hondo said from behind me.

  “From here?” I said.

  “I thin
k so.”

  I put my fingers in my ears and Hondo used my shoulder as a rest for his forearms as he sighted on the men. I saw the barrel of his .45 raise to compensate for the distance.

  The man raised the rifle to his shoulder.

  Hondo’s Kimber boomed and the rifleman grabbed his shoulder, sinking to his knees. Hondo cranked off the rest of the clip and John Wesley’s men scattered for cover. Two of them staggered but managed to limp behind buildings.

  “That’ll buy us a few minutes,” Hondo said.

  Jett said, “Nice shootin’, Tex.”

  “You,” I said to Jett, “Are my kind of girl.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Hondo said as he put his pistol away.

  “It’s a long way down,” I said.

  “No other ladders?”

  I pointed toward the next building, “There’s one over there on the roof.”

  Hondo looked at the alley between the buildings, then took several steps back and looked at the far building.

  “Whoa, whoa,” Jett said. “You can’t do that.”

  I pulled her to the side. I said, “Trust him.”

  Jett looked at me, then at Hondo. Hondo gave her a little smile, then ran toward the other building and leapt into space.

  Jett gripped my arm again, hard.

  Hondo’s hands slapped onto the top and his feet hit the wall at the same time. He stuck there like a spider. He pulled with his arms, gave a quick bounce-push with his feet and was on the roof in one smooth move.

  “Ringling Brothers is looking for another act,” I called to him.

  He worked the ladder over the edge and down to the alley, positioning the base about six feet from our wall, then he grabbed the rungs and pushed off, riding the ladder across the alley to our wall.

  “Piece of cake,” Hondo said.

  “Oh sure,” I said. He went down first and we followed, then we went to check on Magilla.

  He was up on his feet, and staggering a little. A cut on his head leaked blood down the side of his face.

  Jett said, “Bend down here,” as she tore off a piece of Hondo’s shirt.

  “Hey,” Hondo said, then Jett gave him a look and he grinned. “Take all you want.”

  Magilla bent down to her. She couldn’t see his face, but I was standing apart from her and Hondo.

  Magilla’s eyes closed at her touch and hidden feelings he carried inside showed on his face. He made no move, and made sure his face was turned from them. But it was there, for no one to see but me, and with no way for him to hold it inside. The iron lock on the giant’s heart broke with a touch.

  I moved beside Hondo and Jett to give him privacy. Jett finished and said, “It’ll hold until I can get some first aid things.” Then she hugged his massive neck.

  When she let go Magilla kept his face hidden a moment, then stood up. He wouldn’t look at Jett, but I saw a wetness in his eyes.

  His voice rumbled like thunder, “My Hummer’s four blocks south, in the warehouse district. I’ll get you out of here.”

  We walked away one-two-one, with Magilla in the lead, then Hondo and Jett, and I brought up the rear. We made two steps before Jett stepped to Magilla’s back where the bloodstain showed and she said, “Stop.”

  Magilla tried to turn but she said, “Stay still.” She lifted his shirt and looked at the dark, wet bullet hole above his hip. It leaked a watery mixture of blood and fluid that trailed down to his waistband where a grapefruit-sized wetness showed on the pants.

  She said to Hondo, “Would you tear some more of your shirt for me?”

  Magilla tried to turn as he said, “I’m all right.”

  Jett pushed on his big shoulder the way a zoo handler pushes an elephant and said, “Stay still.”

  I didn’t know a seven-foot tall behemoth could look meek, but he did. Hondo took off what was left of his shirt and gave it and his knife to Jett. Jett made short work of the shirt and handed the knife back to Hondo, who put it in his pocket.

  I looked at my friend. Hondo’s torso was so defined it looked carved from ice. He saw me looking and said, “What?”

  “Very Rambo,” I said.

  One corner of Hondo’s mouth lifted, “Rambo wished he looked this good.”

  “And that tall.”

  “You know it.”

  Jett finished and Magilla said in a soft voice, “Thank you.”

  She laid her hand on his back and said, “Hey, I have to take care of my newest hero.”

  Magilla’s ears turned red. “Let’s keep moving,” he said.

  I wasn’t going to argue so I stayed in step and swiveled my head left, right and behind us, looking for John Wesley and his men. There were very few vehicles around and even fewer people. We walked between large storage warehouses, with half of them abandoned and showing broken windows and weeds growing in the cracks in the asphalt.

  After three blocks of head swiveling I said, “I may have to go to a chiropractor after this.”

  Magilla said, “I can adjust you. I studied chiropractic medicine several years ago.”

  The thought of those hands twisting my neck…

  Hondo looked at me and grinned.

  I said, “Thanks, but I’ve got this guy I go to regularly, you know…”

  “Sure. If you change your mind I’ll take care of you, no charge.”

  “Great,” I said.

  Magilla pointed ahead and said, “We’re almost there, end of the block.”

  As we approached the intersection, Magilla said, “Stay back. I’ll check.” He pulled his pistol and stepped back so he was four feet from the corner of the building, then he took his time easing sideways to see beyond the edge of the building, checking first in front, then up to surrounding building tops, always looking over his sights.

  I looked at Hondo and he nodded. Magilla used a movement that SWAT and Special Forces called “cutting the pie.”

  By taking tiny slices of the view beyond the building’s edge, Magilla could actually see-and sight on-the enemy without being seen or at least without exposing more than his eye and the barrel of the pistol. Very effective, and he was doing it as if he’d had a lot of experience.

  He’d cleared half the area when he jerked back. Magilla said, “Two of them by the Hummer. Let’s go back-“

  He snapped his pistol over my head and fired behind us. His .44 magnum going off above my skull sounded like a bomb.

  “Shit!” I yelled and ducked as I drew my own pistol. Magilla fired again, and Hondo fired an instant behind him. Two men writhed on the ground behind us and a third raced around the corner, yelling for help as he ran.

  Magilla turned, took a step into the street and shot BaBoomBaBoom, so fast the sounds joined and the two men dropped by the Hummer. He tossed Hondo the keys. “Go. Get her out of here.”

  Then he was shooting over the top of my head again.

  “Shit!” I said again as I ducked in reflex.

  Four men retreated around the corner as they drug the two downed men with them.

  Hondo said to Magilla, “Come to Archie’s Gym, Venice. We’ll be there.”

  We advanced guns out, toward the Hummer. Hondo was ten feet in front of us, and I moved in front of Jett saying, “Put your fingers on the small of my back and stay that close.”

  “Okay.” She sounded solid, that girl.

  When Hondo was three steps from the Hummer, I saw a dozen armed men stand up from behind a low wall across the street. One of the men had a shoulder-carry rocket launcher and he fired before I could yell.

  The rocket left a quick vapor trail to the Hummer, then there was an explosion of flame and black smoke and red embers. The Hummer somersaulted into the air and parts from it flew in all directions.

  Hondo flew backward through the air and I turned to cover Jett. A red-hot lightning bolt hit the back of my head, and all three of us bounced and skidded and rolled on the pavement, coming to rest near one another.

  I lay on my back, but couldn’t move. I str
ained with everything I had and turned my head an inch to the side. My neck creaked. Everything was hazy and blurry. Hondo lay on his side, almost in a fetal position. Blood dripped from his hairline and from a playing card-sized triangle of metal sticking out of his back.

  I strained to call his name, but only a faint strangled sound came out. My friend, my friend…

  Jett moaned, and her leg moved. She blinked several times, like trying to place where she was.

  Beyond her I saw an out of focus Magilla coming at a run, screaming, “Jett! Jett!”

  Then I heard machine guns, and terrible red flowers blossomed on Magilla’s shirt and pants.

  Magilla came on, desperate to reach Jett. He continued to fire the .44 magnum as he staggered forward into the storm of bullets. Men screamed as Magilla’s bullets found their marks.

  Sykes stumbled as the rounds continued to tear holes in him. He fell to his knees and toppled on his face. One machine gun shot into his body a second longer, and then stopped.

  Jett inched herself toward Magilla in an awkward crawling motion, like her arms and legs were not quite connected to her body. She made it two feet, then couldn’t go any further.

  Magilla’s head rose an inch off the pavement and he saw her. He used his arms and dragged himself forward, leaving a wet, red trail three feet wide behind him.

  “Sykes,” I gasped, and that was all I could get out. I didn’t know how he was alive, much less moving, because Magilla Sykes was shot to pieces.

  Magilla made it as far as he could, but his hand was a few inches short of touching hers. Blood trickled from his mouth. A tear ran from his eye and mixed with the blood on his face. Then his head eased down to the pavement, too heavy to hold up any longer, and his eyes closed.

  Jett tried again. I can’t imagine how much effort it took, but somehow she scraped forward on her stomach for three very far inches and touched Magilla’s hand with the tips of her fingers, then she collapsed, unconscious.

  Magilla’s eyes opened at her touch, and his voice, faint and fragile, broke as it faded, “Jettt…”

  I watched his eyes glaze over and the last light go out of them.

  I tried to move again. Nothing. I looked at Hondo and couldn’t tell if he was breathing. The sounds of sirens were faint and far in the distance.