Mouledoux dashed across the center aisle, joined Peeps and the hoses. He offered a hand. Peeps took it and Mouledoux pulled him to his feet.
“ You okay?”
“ What’d ya see?” Peeps wanted to know.
“ Two dead Fibies.”
“ She just shot ’em down in cold blood.”
“ Yeah, she did.” And now they had two down, an unsub on the loose in a monster of a store, with who knew how many civilians hiding here, there and everywhere. Still, he had to admit if Girard hadn’t gone charging forward like Sir Lancelot on his charger, waving his Glock like a motherfucking sword, the bitch probably wouldn’t have started popping caps. The stupid fuck got both himself and his partner killed.
It could’ve been so easy. They could’ve simply walked up to her, grabbed her, cuffed her and been done with it. It should’ve been easy. What the fuck were they teaching those yahoos at Quantico?
“ You hear that?” Peeps said.
“ What?”
“ Someone’s crying.”
Mouledoux heard it, too.
“ It’s coming from the next aisle over.” Peeps said.
“ Yeah.” Mouledoux stepped out into the center aisle, quick stepped to the next aisle, passing a display of WD 40 as he turned into an aisle of auto repair garbage that probably nobody needed, save maybe the WD 40, everybody needed that. He saw a little girl on the floor, her mother had a gash on her forehead, but seemed lucid.
“ You okay, ma’am?”
“ I think so.”
“ I’m going to step out into the aisle. I want you and your girl to stand behind me and run for the exit. I’ll block the way.” He was about to do something very stupid, but he had no choice. To protect and serve, sometimes it was a bitch.
“ Are you sure?”
“ Do it now, ma’am.” He holstered his weapon and as he’d done with Peeps, he offered the woman a hand. She took it. He pulled her to her feet and she pulled up her child. “Okay, we need to be kinda quick about this.” He took the woman’s hand again. She was maybe twenty-five, twenty-six and looked like a scared rabbit. Blood was dripping down into her left eye. He brushed it away with the back of his free hand, wiped it off on his trousers.
“ I’m bleeding?”
“ It’s not serious, you’re going to be fine.” He led her to the center aisle. The little girl followed.
“ Are you ready?”
“ Yes,” the woman let go of his hand, picked up her daughter.
“ Are you nuts?” Peeps said.
Mouledoux looked at his partner, nodded his head. “Maybe a little.” He turned toward the young woman. “We’re going now.” He stepped into the center aisle with his hands in the air. The woman followed, stepped behind him, then ran for the exit with Mississippi Bob between her and the shooter or shooters.
“ She’s at the door,” Peeps said. “She’s outside, get back here.”
He was about to do just that when the woman in the brown duster stepped into the aisle with a Glock in hand. She had it pointed at his chest. He kept his hands in the air as Isadora Eisenhower joined the woman. She had a gun too. It looked like a forty-five auto and it too was pointed at his chest. If things didn’t go right here, he could be well and truly fucked.
He heard a siren in the background. If he’d’ve waited a few more seconds the cavalry would’ve been in time to save him. Maybe. But maybe not.
“ Think fast,” the woman in the duster shouted. But she needn’t have, because all of a sudden it was quiet in the store.
Always a fast thinker, Mouledoux shouted at the top of his lungs, “Everybody leave the store! Do not panic! Do not run! Proceed at an orderly pace toward the nearest exit!” He prayed he was doing the right thing. For a second he’d thought about diving for cover, but he knew sure as he knew his name, he’d’ve been cut down. Those women knew how to use their guns. He’d seen that first hand.
“ Now!” he shouted, trying to sound authoritarian. “Everybody leave now.”
A man with two children stepped into the aisle between him and the two women. He was looking at Mouledoux, unaware of the gun bearing women behind him.
“ That’s right,” Mouledoux lowered his hands, hoping the women wouldn’t interpret it as a threat. He kept his hands pointed forward, wanting them to see he wasn’t going for his shoulder holster.
“ Psst,” Peeps hissed. “I gotcha covered.”
Mouledoux resisted the urge to glance over at his partner. The last thing he wanted to do was to spook Eisenhower and her gun toting friend.
More people came into the aisles, employees and customers alike. A giant of a black man appeared behind the women. Eisenhower had gotten herself some serious friends in a very short time.
People were leaving the aisles, coming into the center aisle, heading toward him and the exit beyond. A young couple came up behind the two women and the black man, passed them as if they weren’t holding guns. Then Mouledoux saw they had their eyes on him and the exit beyond. They hadn’t seen the guns.
And as if they’d heard his thoughts, the women hid their guns in their coats and started toward him and all of a sudden Mouledoux knew what they were up to. They were going to walk out with the crowd and disappear. He couldn’t let that happen.
With his right hand he made a downward motion and out of the corner of his eye he saw Peeps drop to the floor. He made a motion with his thumb, pointing to the women and black man heading toward him. Peeps slithered up to the center aisle, poked his head out a few inches, eyeballed the trio, then ducked back, giving Mouledoux the thumbs up sign.
The sirens were getting closer and the group heading toward him picked up their pace. As they got closer Mouledoux looked into their eyes. The black man looked confident, like he didn’t give a shit. Eisenhower looked scared, but the other woman, she had eyes like death. Black as the bottom of a desert mine on a starless night. Killer’s eyes. He didn’t want to fuck with her. He didn’t want to do that. For a second he regretted signaling Peeps, because the way this woman was locking eyes with him, Mouledoux knew if Peeps made a move, Mississippi Bob Mouledoux was going down.
Then they were abreast of him and the woman with black eyes slid the gun from her coat, pointed it at Peeps in the aisle. She’d had the Glock in her hand the whole while, arm hanging loose, weapon pointed to the ground, hidden by the coat. But it wasn’t hidden now. She’d seen him signal Peeps, knew someone was on the floor there.
“ I don’t want to kill you,” she said to Peeps, who had his thirty-eight pointed at her, “but I will,” she said, not the least bit afraid of his weapon. “Slide your piece down the aisle. Make it go far.”
For a second, Mouledoux thought Peeps might cap her, but then Eisenhower showed her forty-five and Peeps, apparently realizing he was a dead man if he fired, slid his gun down the aisle.
“ Your mama didn’t raise a stupid child,” the woman in the duster said as she turned. She began walking backwards, keeping her eyes on Mouledoux as the trio made for the exit. They were going to get away.
As soon as they’d passed the aisle Peeps was in, he got up and charged down it for his thirty-eight. He grabbed for the gun, fumbled it, grabbed it off the floor a second time and ran back to the center aisle.
Mouledoux, with his hands still at his sides, made a stopping motion with an open palm, toward Peeps. Their foolishness, his and Peeps’, was going to get Mississippi Bob Mouledoux killed and he didn’t want that. And all the while that woman in the long coat was back stepping as if she had eyes in the back of her head, while her real eyes, those bottomless blacks, were drilling into him.
Her gun was behind her coat again, but he knew it was in her hand and he knew she hit what she shot at. He was more frightened than all those times he’d been scared shitless during the first Gulf War.
“ Stay back!” he said through clenched teeth, but either Peeps didn’t hear or didn’t want to. He was going to do something very stupid.
