a deadly trio.
Those guns began to bang, and again there were screams as the crowd broke and ran for cover. The parade came to a screeching halt. Longarm ducked around another float, crossing back to the side of the street where he and Claudette had started. The would-be killers veered after them, firing again. Longarm heard bullets whip past his head, and hoped that the stray shots didn't hit anybody in the crowd.
He hoped as well that Captain Denton had some officers assigned to the parade route, but so far Longarm hadn't seen any police. Maybe they knew better than to interfere with Mardi Gras. It was certainly beginning to look like Longarm couldn't count on any help from that quarter.
Shoving Claudette on ahead of him, he turned and palmed out his Colt. He took careful aim and squeezed off a quick shot, and the clown stumbled, clutching at the leg Longarm's bullet had just ventilated. The brightly garbed killer tumbled off his feet, shouting curses. The Devil and Davy Crockett came on without slowing down. The guns in their hands blasted.
Longarm turned and ran again, thankful that Claudette hadn't slowed while he paused to cut down the odds. She was several yards in front of him now. She threw a frightened glance over her shoulder to make sure he was still behind her.
The mouth of an alley loomed up on their right. 'In there!' called Longarm, indicating the alley with a wave of his gun hand as Claudette looked back again. She made the turn, stumbling only a little as she did so. Longarm plunged into the gloom of the alley behind her. Here in the thick shadows, Claudette was forced to slow down, and he caught up with her in a matter of seconds.
'Custis!' she panted, breathless from both exertion and fear.
'Keep going,' he told her. 'I'll slow them down again.'
As he stopped and turned, he saw two figures loom up at the mouth of the alley, silhouetted by the light from the street behind them. One shape was indistinct, but the other was clearly marked by horns and a tail. Longarm triggered twice, aiming low. The muzzle blasts lit up the alley for an instant like orange lightning, and the roar of the shots was deafening in these narrow confines. Longarm couldn't tell if he had done any damage or not. Both of the pursuers fired, and brick chips thrown out by the bullets as they struck the building beside Longarm stung his face.
Behind him somewhere, Claudette let out a scream and shouted, 'Custis!' Her voice was filled with mortal fear.
Longarm whirled around, leery of turning his back to the assassins, but knowing that he had to see what was happening to Claudette. He ran down the alley, heedless of any obstacles that might be in his path, veering from side to side to make himself a more difficult target. Suddenly, without any warning, he emerged into a small rear courtyard behind the buildings, and enough light came from the windows for him to see what was going on.
Despite the warmth of the night, his blood froze at the scene laid out before him.
Claudette was struggling in the grip of a huge black man in work clothes. She flailed at him and clawed his face, but he didn't seem to even feel the blows. He wasn't trying to hurt her, but he was holding her in an unbreakable grip.
Another man was shuffling toward Longarm, arms outstretched, his face as dull and lacking in expression as that of his companion. Longarm took one look at him and uttered a heartfelt, 'Shit!'
The Devil and Davy Crockett behind him, bent on filling him full of lead, and a pair of equally murderous zombies in front of him...
It was times like this that made a fella wonder why he had ever pinned on a lawman's badge in the first place.
CHAPTER 12
The two pursuers burst out of the alley into the courtyard and opened fire just as the dead-eyed man lunged toward Longarm. Longarm threw himself to the side, rolling out of the way. The gunmen couldn't stop their trigger fingers in time, and several shots roared out.
But instead of hitting Longarm, the bullets thudded into the broad chest of the huge black man who had tried to grab him. Just as before, the slugs barely slowed the man. Unable to stop his single-minded charge, he crashed into the two costumed bushwhackers. They yelled in horror as his hands found their throats. More shots roared, the explosions muffled by the huge body.
Longarm came up in a crouch, knowing that for the time being at least, three of his enemies were occupied with each other. That left Claudette, who was still struggling in the grip of the other... well, zombie. There was nothing else to call them, thought Longarm. He reversed his hold on the Colt and threw himself at the figures swaying in the shadows.
Even in this gloom, he could make out the man who towered over Claudette. Longarm brought the Colt down, slamming the butt of the gun against the back of the man's skull. There was no response, so he struck again and then again. Finally, after the third blow, the man shoved Claudette aside and swung around toward Longarm, his movements slow and lumbering but no less dangerous.
From the corner of his eye, Longarm saw Claudette stumble backwards to lean against the side of a building as she gasped for breath. He flipped the gun around so that its barrel pointed toward the huge shape. Even though he knew he was probably wasting his breath, he said harshly, 'Hold it right there, old son! I don't want to have to kill you!'
These men, entranced just like the first one who had stalked Longarm, were not acting of their own accord. Longarm was convinced of that. Someone had put a spell on them--or drugged them, that was the more rational explanation--and sent them after him. Who had done that, and why, he didn't know. Royale was the best bet, but he had no proof that Royale used voodoo. The zombies looked like dockworkers. They were probably innocent men who had been turned into living weapons, and now that he knew what he was facing, Longarm didn't want to have to shoot them.
But there might not be any other way to stop them. Even now, the second man, the one who had been hit by several shots from the two gunmen, was climbing ponderously back to his feet, leaving two motionless figures sprawled on the alley floor behind him, their heads set at odd angles. The Devil and Davy Crockett had come to a bad end.
And so would Longarm and Claudette if they didn't get out of here.
