A cloud of dust was caught in the moonlight, like ground fog, kicked up as they skirmished. Bringing a fist down, but having left his feet to deliver the blow, there was no power to it. Jerked out of the way of the wide arc of the bat's swing. Heavy thwack to his body as he was hit with a bat when he connected the next time.
Tristan followed through with a slashing movement, driving several of her attackers to La Payasa. Planting her heel to the back of his knee, she dropped him. She reeled backward, dodging the jabs of another boy, her slight figure dancing about, easily evading him before wandering back within range to lay him out with a couple of punches.
Lady G gagged on the taste of soot. Gasping for breath, she woke to the smell of smoke. Fire ate through walls. Flames blazed up around her. She grabbed handfuls of air, fought the urge to drift into it, to drop her hands and run into it. The layers of clothes with which she wrapped herself: a T-shirt featuring a panther wrapped by a cobra under a grimy, faded blue hoodie, under a jacket that had seen better days. No matter the temperature, she carefully selected her wardrobe in order to hide her shape. She hooded her eyes. Lady G made her way to Nakia. Pepper spray in one hand, the other clutched after the girl.
'You're safe, baby. I won't let anyone hurt you.'
'Are you a friend of my dad's?' Nakia asked.
'I am,' Lady G said.
'You're pretty.'
Police sirens wailed. Dred's crew scattered, running wild through the mini-woods. The copse of trees offered few hiding places as uniformed officers swooped in. A police helicopter circled above them. Cantrell and Lee, trailed by a film crew, led the officers into the melee.
As soon as the chaos erupted, King threw himself into Dred. The Caliburns flew free. King quickly scrambled for the nearest one. Dred slammed into a girder then hunted for the other gun. King whirred and began blasting at the shadow creatures. His bullets tore through them, a stream of light trailing in their trajectory. With a grotesque twist of their mouths, the wispy substance dissipated like fog in the morning sun against the cleaving magic of the Caliburn. The ebon vapor tendrils faded into nothingness. Dred's face contorted into a mask of hatred and madness, though his eyes remained those of a little boy lost. He spied the Caliburn and dove after it, finding cover behind a pallet of bricks.
'Like I said before, for all your talk, in the end, you settle things the same way we do: with guns and fists,' Dred said.
'I know. Most I can hope for is that when the cause is just, God will give me a pass.'
'I'm afraid not, King. Luther's blood runs in both of us, my brother. There is a birthright to be claimed. We are Cain and Abel.'
Brothers. Things began to make sense to King, but he didn't have time to digest the implications. He pushed the revelation to the side and rushed toward Dred, too close for him to get a clear shot. King used his Caliburn to close in on Dred's wrist, deflecting Dred's shot. The momentum threw him off balance, his gun drawn low.
Grappling in close quarters, Dred raised his leg with the hopes of throwing off King's aim, though King wasn't trying to shoot him. Dred straightened from his crouch after ducking a wild swing from King and slashed his weapon toward King's shoulder. King shifted to the side, blocking the pistol whip, and punched Dred. Twisting aside, bent at the waist, Dred's arms pinwheeled in a pendulum slice, crashing his gun-weighted hand into King's nose. Capitalizing on the lucky blow, Dred threw an uppercut which snapped King's neck backward. King sprawled on his back, dazed but still holding on to his Caliburn. When his eyes focused, Dred had drawn down on him.
'And so it ends.'
'It doesn't have to be this way. We can find another way.'
'King, the story ends the way all stories end: in pain and death.'
'Please, Dred.'
The sound of Dred's Caliburn firing caused King to fire. Lady G screamed. King managed to squeeze off three shots as the bullet punched through his shoulder and took a chunk of flesh out his back. Every action movie he'd ever seen had folks take bullets in the shoulder yet keep moving like they barely nicked themselves shaving. His arm refused to move, his fingers dancing off the edge of his hand to their own accord. Took a while to realize they throbbed to the pulse of his heartbeat. The pain exploded in his brain and all his body could do was drop where he once stood. The next bullet tore through his belly. He collapsed next to Dred, clutching his belly with his good arm. Dred's eyes stared at him, vacant and glassy, accusatory to the end.
Lady G ran to King. She stopped short when she saw how much blood there was. His mouth opened and closed. She dropped beside him, testing his hand in her lap. She held his hand, slick with blood, to his stomach, pressing to staunch the blood loss. He seemed so small in her arms. Dirty. Bruised. Not believing she deserved to mourn him, she let her tears run down her cheeks. Pulling his hand from hers, he brushed her hair from her face. A blood smear scored where he touched her.
'I got you right here.' She put their hands on her heart. 'I love you. You can believe that.'
He knew it was too late for himself. He'd finished what he'd set out to do. He swallowed blood. His breath came in rapid flurries.
'I'm so tired.'
He kissed her hand. 'I understand something now. I wish I could start over and do everything right.'
'I know. And you will always be in my heart.'
A silence settled over the scene. Lott and Wayne wept in their own ways, to themselves. Percy sobbed uncontrollably. Pastor Winburn lowered his head. Omarosa slipped in and out of the scene to retrieve the Caliburns. Lott watched as she disappeared into the waters of the White River with them. She would find her way back to the lake. Paramedics pushed them aside to go through the motions of resuscitation, but it was too late.
King was gone.
EPILOGUE
Stories are made up by people who make them up. The ones that work, endure. It was a time of bloody battles. A time of dark brutality, when life was short. Chivalry. Honor. Courtly love. Loyalty. Courage. Humility. Ideals of an earlier age were not entirely lost.
At first blush, nothing much had changed about Breton Court. The neighborhood waited out the evil, let it run its course like a boxer punching himself out. They survived it. Once again, it survived the city's threat to raze it. The owners of many of the condos within, under pressure from the city and local ministers, sold many of the condos to local residents. There would be no slumlords here. Wayne walked to Big Momma's place to meet Lady G. The dedication was today. The laughter of children filled the air. Percy's little brothers and sisters played on the Slip 'n Slide as Big Momma hustled them indoors in order to get ready.
The Boars walked through the neighborhood with a lawnmower. It was probably stolen, but it was the start of him attempting to make an honest living. Wayne measured progress in baby steps. Sometimes a client smoking weed instead of crack counted as improvement. And cutting lawns definitely was better than working a corner.
'I know you made it to church,' Rhianna said.
'I didn't see you,' Wayne said.
'Yeah. I'm on sabbatical.'
'That's what you call it now.'
'Yeah, we'll be back next week. Up in the pulpit.'
'You may want to ease into it first. Maybe make it to a pew.'
'You know, some people running around here saying King ain't dead…'
'Come on now, he ain't Tupac.' Though the thought warmed Wayne. 'What do you think he's doing?'
'You need a unicorn that body surfs on rainbows. Along with a mule sidekick that is the keeper of all of the secrets of the universe. We need an enchanted castle with a moat full of Skittles because that's what the rainbow turns into once the unicorn gets home.' Rhianna gestured wildly as if painting the picture in the air. 'Picture it: King rides the unicorn after consulting with the mule on exactly where he needs to go and what mission to pursue. And no one can eat the Skittles except for the three of them, because everyone else who tries spontaneously combusts.'
