I jumped for the trunk, missed, and came up with bloody elbows and a scraped nose. Wiping the dust from my eyes, I watched the taillights recede into the night.
'Look out mister!'
I turned around. On top of the hill-in the hatchway I'd been launched from-stood the kid. Light poured out of the tunnel. Her giant shadow splashed down the hillside.
'Behind you, asshole!'
I whirled about just in time to enjoy the view of a blackjack zeroing in on my right temple. I didn't see stars. Just a lot of black that got blacker.
5
Pre Mortem
I woke up with a Rushmore-size headache in a dark little cell that made San Quentin look like the Biltmore. My bruises had been bandaged, and I was dressed in a light blue hospital gown. The smooth white walls teetered a bit as I sat up.
I eased my mistreated body up to walk around the cell. My shoulder intuitively sought the wall for support.
The smell of Formalin and acetone in the air forced the sluggishness out of my head. The phrase that most readily came to what mind I had was, what a sap. Ann and I both captured. They'd probably left one mug to cover their escape. And the call-a diversion.
I hadn't expected such a reaction to an insane proposition. Maybe the Big Man
worried.
Heavy footsteps approached, slow and ponderous. A series of latches clanked back. The door opened inward without so much as a Lugosian creak.
In the doorway stood the largest piece of beef I'd ever seen on less than four legs. He had to duck to pass under the doorframe, which hung a foot higher than my head. His ghost-sheet pallor brought out the tints of red in his thin, strawberry-blond hair. The whiteness also contrasted nicely with his black clerical frock.
'I'm not ready for last rites,' I said.
'Shut yer trap, Ammo, and set down. You ain't going nowhere.' He talked like a rock polisher.
'Sure, Demosthenes, sure.' I sat. The bedsprings groaned.
'Watch yer language, geezer. It ain't reverent fer a man yer age.'
He leaned against the doorframe, blocking my exit as well as most of the door.
I knew any punch that I could throw would only tickle him and would split my knuckles open. So we waited.
For ten minutes he stood there, staring at me with calm green eyes that conveyed intelligence greater than his words communicated. I met his gaze, striving not to reveal my intentions through any involuntary motions.
I broke the silence first.
'Look, Demosthenes, why don't you go bite open a few coconuts while I toddle along? Kidnapping isn't the best way to gain converts.'
'Ammo-' his cement-mixer voice rumbled. 'Whyn't you close your mouth so Brother Bannister don't have to come in and wire it shut to keep it from danglin'?'
He turned upon hearing distant footsteps. The creak of bedsprings when I stood brought him spinning around.
'Siddown, brother. Father Beathan's coming.'
I swallowed a crude rejoinder and stood as tall as I could, wishing I had a cigarette. My nose itched madly under its bandage.
The steps grew louder, echoing down the corridor.
Demosthenes crossed himself and genuflected quickly. Through the door entered a man about half the lummox's height and a quarter of his weight. Old and withered, he carried an equally aged doctor's satchel in one wrinkled hand. He eyed me with a pair of pale greys that seemed too large for his small head. His gaze darted around the cell.
