size of a small planet came burning out and swung in behind us. I glanced in my rearview mirror. I recognized the truck’s driver. Tanedrue. Beside him I could see the ball-kicked guy and in the backseat the guy who was mad about me tossing his dog, and beside him some red-faced guy I had never seen before. Between them was Gadget.
“It’s them,” I said. “And Gadget’s with them.”
Brett turned to look. “That bitch.”
“I’m going to try and outrace them,” I said. “Call Leonard.”
As Brett popped open her cell phone, I hit the gas and started around the Cadillac. The Caddy weaved in front of me.
“Get off the phone, asshole,” I yelled at the Cadillac just like the driver could hear me.
I heard Brett say, “Leonard, we got trouble. We’re on Main, just crossed Gibbon, about three blocks from our street. Yeah.”
Brett clapped the phone shut. “He’s on his way.”
“This goddamn Cadillac,” I said, and weaved the other direction. It weaved with me. I glanced in the rearview mirror. The red-faced guy in the truck had a cell phone to his ear. I glanced at the Caddy. The driver was still on the phone.
“They’re in cahoots,” I said.
Brett was looking back, she said, “Oh hell.”
I looked in the rearview. Red Face was lifting up through the sunroof with a shotgun. It looked as big as a howitzer to me.
I tried to get around the Caddy. No luck. They had us between a patch of houses and trees, no side streets.
I turned quick, bumped over a curb, went through a lawn, bashed a couple of lawn gnomes and a pink flamingo, which might be considered a public service, then bounced through a driveway and clipped the tail of a parked car just enough to knock it out of our way. I weaved between an oak and an elm and took out a yard swing, a birdbath, and a Vote-for-Some-Republican sign. I gave myself an extra two points for that.
The Caddy and the truck ran along beside us on the street. Red Face’s shotgun banged and a back side window went out on my truck. Brett let out a yip like a surprised dog.
“You hit?” I asked.
“Just my pride.”
I saw an alley between two houses up the way, took a sharp right, and saw it was a screwup immediately. There was a wooden fence at the end of it. I yelled to Brett to hang on and put my foot to the floor. The pickup jumped and I hit the fence and lumber went out in all directions and we roared on through and down a little hill. There was a clump of trees in front of us and a low area I knew was a creek, so I hung a hard left and took out another wooden fence and went through a backyard and made a cocker spaniel jump for cover. I took out a matching fence, whipped hard left through a side yard in time to see our pursuers whisk by on the street, make several car lengths ahead of us.
I started back in the direction we had come, saw people in the yards now, out rubbernecking. I don’t know what possessed me, but I waved at a couple of them. In the rearview I saw the truck had turned and so had the Caddy. They were coming down on my ass pretty snappy-damn-quick. I had my foot all the way to the floor when I tried to make a turn, and that’s when I lost it. My truck skidded, fishtailed, then got itself together and looked like it was going to be all right. Another shot banged behind us, and this time the back glass of the pickup shattered. I caught some sting in the back of my neck. Brett yelled, “Goddamn it,” and flipped over the seat and got the twelve-gauge and brought it up and started pumping. She poked it out the busted window in the back, got off three rounds faster than a buck rabbit can fuck, and their truck spun to the right, went into a yard, right into a house with a sound like a cannon going off. Steam rose up from their hood.
I checked the rearview, saw the Caddy was still behind us. I turned my head and saw the truck rammed up in the house, bricks in the yard. Red Face and Tanedrue were out of the truck, guns in hand. Red Face was moving quickly. Tanedrue was limping toward us, due to his gunshot, but he looked lively enough and dangerous enough to me.
I said, “Put your seat belt back on, baby.”
Brett climbed over the seat like a monkey, snapped the belt around her waist, clutched the shotgun like a life raft.
I hit the brakes. The truck spun almost completely around. I gave it some gas and turned the wheel and we were heading right at the Caddy. I got the nine out from the small of my back and sent my driver’s window down with a touch of a button, stuck out my arm and fired left-handed. I starred the glass of the Caddy and it whipped to our right and passed us and swerved and hit the back end of my truck and made us spin like a Tilt-A-Whirl. Then we were rolling over and over. Next thing I knew, we were upside down, hanging by our seat belts. A curious weenie dog was looking in my open window, possibly hoping for blood.
I unsnapped my seat belt and fell in a heap, found my nine on the roof of the truck, reached for it. I could hear Brett cussing like a longshoreman. “Goddamn it, sonsofagoddamndogshittin’bitches.”
And then she was loose from her belt. She got hold of the shotgun as I crawled out ahead of her, my head hazy, my vision blurred. The damn weenie dog bit me. I slapped at him with the back of my hand, got on my feet and leaned back against the upside-down truck. The yard and the sky kept jumping around. The dog grabbed my pants leg and tugged and growled and I had to kick him loose.
Brett came out on her hands and knees, dragging the shotgun after her.
“Goddamn it,” she said. “Motherfuckin’cocksuckin’dicklickin’ball- suckin’sonsagoddamnshitsuckin’monkeylickin’sonsabitches.”
Even I was a little embarrassed.
18
My head cleared enough to see the Caddy had veered off and hit a tree. The ass end of the car was sticking out
