I moved over to help Bartholomew. The big guy started moving a bit. Bartholomew knocked him out by hitting him over the head with his gun. The boy had a lot of anger. Bob grabbed Bartholomew’s giant.
“Short version: Witches have been kidnapping people in Texarkana to steal their souls and lives. I’m now one of Death’s interns, and my job is to stop them. Simple enough?”
“Oh, wow. I’m not crazy, and this is really happening?” He was looking between Bartholomew and me.
“Mr. Bob, you are not crazy. The world is a lot more complicated than you imagine. The monsters are real. Can you handle that?” Bartholomew was dead serious.
“Everything I saw in the war was real. I’m not crazy.” Bob was talking to himself, almost spaced out. I was afraid he was losing it.
“I have no idea what you saw in the war, but it was probably real. The question is, what are you going to do about it?” Bartholomew looked at Bob patiently.
Bob looked around. “What do you need me to do?”
Bartholomew smiled and handed Bob one of his guns. “Welcome to the team.” Bartholomew had no issues making friends.
“Do you still remember how to use that?” I asked him, a little wary. I didn’t want to get shot by friendly fire.
Bob dropped the magazine, checked the chamber, and put the gun back together. “It’s like riding a bike.”
I smiled. Bob was ready.
“OK, so where are the rest?” I looked around, waiting for more witches to pop out of the air. We had less than five minutes before sunset.
“They went to set up something inside the post office. They were running late, so that one was supposed to prep us or something.” The three of us looked at Lily while Bob talked. “To answer your question, Bartholomew, I stopped eating the food they gave us. Once I realized it knocked us out, I stopped eating. Nobody else listened.” Bob looked around, distraught.
“Comatose people are going to make traveling a lot harder than I expected.” This was not part of the plan. Why couldn’t our plans just go smoothly?
“How about the van? We can take them out the same way they brought them in.” Bartholomew was looking at us expectantly.
“Bart, you’re a genius. OK, let’s get them in. We need to be out of here now.” I was so happy to have Bartholomew there.
Bob, Bartholomew, and I piled bodies in the van. For the first time, I was happy the van was around. It had no seats, so we just laid the poor people on top of one another. There was no way of making them comfortable. At this point, I didn’t care. We got the last person in the van.
“Oh, Isis, we got company.” Bartholomew was looking at the post office. The remainder of the coven was heading our way. Bob and I stuck our heads out of the van.
“You again! Where is my sister?”
Oh, great. Evil Angry Rose was back, leading her psycho coven.
“Kill them.”
I grabbed Bartholomew by his gear and pulled him inside. “Get in here, Bart. Time to go. Bob, drive. Guess we’re not going the same way we came.”
Bob climbed into the driver seat.
I got in the passenger seat.
“Isis, where to?” Bob was searching for the keys.
I opened fire on the witches from the passenger window. They were not expecting that. Luckily, two went down. That, unfortunately, made the others mad, and they started throwing spells. They cracked the windshield. Bob found the keys in the cup holder. I guess they weren’t expecting their van to get stolen. Bob started the van, and I kicked the windshield out. We couldn’t see anything anyways.
“Saint Edward’s. There’s a gate there.”
Bob didn’t need directions. I opened fire on the group.
Bob made a U-turn on the street and peeled out. Traffic laws and regulations were nonexistent there, so he gunned it. Bartholomew opened the van door and started throwing grenades. That really made them jump.
Chapter 36
The speed limit in Texarkana, for the most part, was forty miles per hour. In purgatory Bob was going at least eighty. Saint Edward’s was less than half a mile from the post office. We took Seventh Street toward Saint Edward’s as fast as the van could handle it. Bob slowed down to take the right onto Beech Street. We were still going too fast for that turn. The van was on two wheels, and I was afraid we were going to flip.
“Too fast. Wow. Is everyone OK?” Bob was not slowing down as he spoke. I was grateful Bartholomew had closed the back door.
“Still here,” Bartholomew said from the back. When I looked his way, he had fallen on his butt from the turn. I was holding on to the door handle for dear life.
“We got company.” The witches were making their way to the church from Fifth Street. “They don’t look happy,” I told the boys.
There were three of them riding Harleys, and they at least had wands pointed at us. With the windshield gone, I used the edge of the window frame to hold my M16 for stability. With Bob driving like a madman, I didn’t want to accidentally shoot us instead. I laid down suppressive fire. Those bikes were fast, and all three scattered.
“Isis, where is that gate? I don’t see anything.”
I looked at the church grounds and couldn’t see it either. I was praying I wouldn’t have to use the sight there as well.
“Head toward the grounds. It’s somewhere on the campus.”
Bob nodded and decided to go through Beech Street Church’s parking lot. The witches were coming from both sides.
“Everyone, hold on tight.” That was the only warning Bob gave us. He used the van as a battering ram and slammed into the witch on our right. Mental note: bike against van, the bike will always lose. Not a pretty sight.
“Ouch. She’s going to feel that. I felt it.” Bartholomew was a great backseat driver. I just shook my head.
We made it across the street as one
