“What?”
“He’s down! She’s on him!”
My insides cringed. I tried to sit up but I couldn’t—not the way Lee was sitting on me.
She began to climb off. Trapped between the bleacher seats, her legs dangling, it was a struggle. Finally, she freed herself.
The moment she was off me, I lurched upright and looked for Rusty. Whatever cars remained on Janks Field, their headlights weren’t pointing in our direction. All we had in the arena was darkness and pouring rain. I could hardly see the cage, but there seemed to be pale shapes inside it. They might’ve been naked bodies squirming in a tangle, but I couldn’t be sure.
Lee dropped onto the bench in front of me, twisted around, reached out and squeezed my arm.
She helped me climb out from between the bleacher planks. Then, side by side, we hopped carefully but as fast as we dared down the slick boards like a couple of hikers leaping from rock to rock in an effort to cross a stream.
No one was in our way.
The stands on both sides of the arena looked empty. It seemed that everyone except us had already fled. By the sounds of engines and car horns and shouts, many of them were still in Janks Field, fighting the traffic jam.
I hardly got a chance to start worrying about them, however, before several dark shapes hurried into the cage with a gurney.
Then several more came running toward Lee and me.
We almost reached the bottom of the bleachers before they stopped us.
The man blocking our way said, “Show’s over, folks. Time to go home.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Lee said. “Not without my son.”
“Your son, right.” Though I couldn’t make out the details of his face, he was obviously the same man who had stopped us the last time. “Go on, get outa here.”
“You can’t make us,” I blurted. I was angry and scared. I needed to get past these people and stop the others from taking away Rusty. “This is public property. And anyway, my dad’s the chief of police. So you’d better just get out of our way.”
“Sure, kid.”
“Please,” Lee said to him. “We only want to ...”
I broke to the side, my feet somehow not flying out from under me, and leaped. One of the gang tried for me. I shouldered him or her out of the way, but the impact knocked me crooked. I managed to plant one foot on the bottom row of the bleachers and spring off. In midair, I saw several dark figures moving inside the cage ... rolling the gurney. A pale body was sprawled on the gurney. Someone else stood nearby, hands on hips.
Balance gone, I landed on the ground with a splash, stumbled and started to fall.
I was caught by strong hands. They clamped me just below my armpits and hoisted me upright. After I was standing, they didn’t let go.
“What seems to be the problem beret’
It was the voice of Julian Stryker.
“My friend,” I blurted. “They’re taking away my friend.” In case he didn’t know who I meant, I said, “Rusty. The one who...”
“I know who he is,” Stryker said. “He’s been hurt. They’re taking him to an ambulance.”
The sky suddenly trembled with lightning.
Stryker’s mane of black hair was plastered to his head, his stark white face dripping and shiny, his lips crimson. So much like a beautiful woman, but rugged and craggy like a man. His silk shirt was clinging like ebony skin to his powerful shoulders and chest.
In the last moment of brilliant light, I saw past Stryker’s side—the gurney gliding by, weighted down by Rusty.
Rusty, naked except for his white socks. Chubby, pale, shiny.
His arm was no longer bandaged.
Where his arm had been nipped by the poodle, he now had a mouth-sized patch of gory pulp.
Thunder rumbled.
Darkness clamped down and Rusty was gone.
Chapter Fifty- seven
Let go of me!” I shouted into Stryker’s face.
“Just settle down.”
“They’re taking him away!”
“Nothing to worry about.”
