When he opened his eyes again, the hooker was gnawing onthe end of his boot. He raised the Desert Eagle, closed one eye, which seemedto help, and then squeezed the trigger once more. The hair on the back of thewoman's head jerked quickly, and then blood began to spill out of thebullet-sized hole in her forehead.
Zeke dropped the Desert Eagle in relief and tried toregain his equilibrium. His head still spinning, he kicked the woman off of hisfoot and pushed her to the side. He heard sirens in the night, and he knew thatone of his neighbors had finally called the police. With relief, he relaxed andrested his head on the step of his porch. Before he dozed off, the last wordshe thought were "through a garden hose."
Chapter 8: Nightsticks
Mort staggered under the Interstate Bridge. He was spunaround, only to see the bane of every homeless man's existence. The cop infront of him reached for his belt and pulled out his nightstick, a quick flickof his wrist sent Mort to the ground clutching at his knee. Mort sucked air inthrough his teeth.
"Get up." The officer pulled him to his feet,and then threw him back down on the ground. Mort wished the cop would make uphis mind. The cop kicked over his cart, and Mort decided his best option wouldbe to pull a "deer in the headlights" maneuver and lie completelystill. From off to his right, he heard the pained groans of one of his friends.It sounded like his cop buddy had a partner.
"You can't sleep under the bridge. Get your lazy assup, and get the fuck out of here," yelled the partner's voice.
Mort decided he would take one for the team."Run!" he bellowed. His voice echoed underneath the overpass, and hiscry of "run" was repeated throughout the clearing, picked up by thedozen or so homeless men who camped nightly under the overpass. While the copswatched his friends run off into the night, Mort attempted to crawl away. Hedidn't think his knee was broken, but it certainly wasn't going to be operatingat a normal level for a while. Just as he reached the edge of the clearing, thecop that had thrown him to the ground whacked him across the back with hisnightstick. He rolled over on his back and put his arm up to ward off anotherblow.
The cop, a pudgy, pink-faced man whose uniform strainedat the buttons, raised his arm above his head to deliver another blow. In thedull glare of the streetlights, Mort saw a figure charge the officer frombehind and knock him to the ground.
Mort scrambled to his feet and rubbed his knee."Thanks," he muttered to his savior as he began to run away.
The man was familiar to him, but he didn't reply. Hebelieved everyone called the guy Dirty Kurt. His fingers were always stained asif he had been scratching in his ass, and he had the most unpleasant odor ofany homeless person he had ever had the pleasure of meeting, and he had met alot of them.
As Mort turned his back and hobbled away, he heard thecop begin screaming wildly. He turned around briefly to see Dirty Kurt bitingon the hand of the cop that had been giving him a beating. The cop's partnerappeared and began clubbing the homeless man on the back. Dirty Kurt fell tothe side, and the two cops began pummeling him. Mort should have left then, butsomething didn't quite seem right. Dirty Kurt made no move to defend himself.Every time he was hit, he just got back up again, gnashing his teeth andreaching for the cops.
Mort couldn't just walk away; Dirty Kurt had saved him.The least he could do was take a little of the punishment so it wasn't two onone. He hurried back as quick as he could. When he got close enough, he yelled,"Hey, asshole. Why don't you try that with me?"
The pink-faced cop's partner turned to look at him. Hehad a weasel-ish look about him, and he sneered right at Mort as he fixed hisgrip on his nightstick. "You want some too? You should have crawled backinto the sewer while you had the chance."
Weasel walked towards him, but was stopped when DirtyKurt grabbed him by the ankle. Dirty Kurt sank what was left of his teeth intothe thigh of the cop. The cop screamed and shoved at Dirty Kurt's face with hisfree hand, while his pink-faced partner whacked Kurt a few times more. The copthat was being attacked fell to the ground, and Kurt immediately began crawlingup the cop's prone body, scratching and pummeling him in the process.
Pink-face tried to pull him off, but Dirty Kurt wouldn'tbudge. He began gnashing his yellow teeth, and biting at the cop on the ground.Without hesitation, Mort moved to help the cop get Dirty Kurt off of the man.There was clearly something wrong with Kurt, more than just your classicanti-authoritarian violence.
"Easy there, Kurt. Let him go, man."
With the help of the other officer, they pulled Kurt offthe cop. Weasel got up off the ground, and checked on his bites and scrapeswhile his partner held Dirty Kurt on the ground. Weasel gave Dirty Kurt a kickin the ribs. It didn't seem to bother him.
"C'mon, man. You ain't got to do that," Mortpleaded.
Weasel waved a finger in his face and said, "Youshut your goddamn mouth. What the fuck are you guys on down here anyway?"
Pink-face ignored the questioning and said, "Help meout here, Dave. Let's get this guy cuffed. He's giving me the fuckingcreeps."
Weasel and Pink-face managed to cuff Dirty Kurt's handsbehind him, but he was still too much to handle. While they began the processof cuffing his legs, Mort tried to wander off discretely. Weasel hadn't forgotabout him. "You stand right
