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"So does Mickey. Hey, where you going?"
"Lynwood."
"Hot date?"
"Yeah, with a pretty-boy strongarm cop."
"I'll tell Touch--he'll be jealous."
Adrenaline-rain peaked it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Lynwood--wind, rain--streets running crisscross and diagonal. Dark--hard to see; Aviation and Hibiscus--that pay phone on the corner.
Tombstone laughs--Jack's call reprised: "He kicked natural or got snuffed by somebody else? Come on, let me redeem myself. Say Welles Noonan for that same ten?"
Stucco pads--quasi slums; empty bungalow courts. Spindrift--the 4900 block--I skimmed numbers.
24, 38, 74. 4980: a two-deck stucco dive, abandoned.
One light on-downstairs left, the door open.
I walked up.
An empty living room--cobwebs, dusty floor--Schoolboy Johnny standing there calm.
No jacket, empty holster--trust me.
Trust s.h.i.+t--watch his hands.
"Are you grieving for Junior, Johnny?"
"What do you know about Stemmons and me?"
"I know he made you for the fur heist. I know that other stuff doesn't count."
"Other stuff" made him blink. Ten feet apart--watch his hands.
"He had evidence on you, too. He felt terrible things for certain people, and he collected evidence on them to even things out."
"We can work out a deal. I don't care about the fur job."
"You don't know the half"--eye flickers craaaazy.
Footsteps behind me.
My hands pinned/my mouth cupped--smothered/my sleeves rolled up/stabbed.
Walking air--tunnel vision--peripheral gra.s.s. Tingles/flutters up my groin/toasty warm.
Side doorways, shoes, trouser legs flapping.
Elbow dipped, shoes on concrete, right turn-- A door opened--warm air, light. Mirrored walls, herringbone patterns up close. Somebody stretched me p.r.o.ne.
Light overhead--snowflake blurry.
_Whir, click/click_--cylinder noise, like a camera. Sliding on my knees-- white wax paper under me.
Propped up.
Tape strips on my eyes--slapped sticky blind.
Somebody hit me.
Somebody poked me.
Somebody burned me-hot/cold sizzles on my neck.
Not so tingly/toasty warm--no flutters up my groin.
Somebody pulled the tape off--sticky red blood in my eyes.
Cylinder _click-clicks_.
Propped up on white wax paper. Something in my right hand, heavy and s.h.i.+ny: MY souvenir j.a.p sword.
Shoved, focused in: Johnny Duhamel naked, holding MY gun.
Burned: hot/cold--my neck, my hands.
Burned raw--Johnny kneeling, gla.s.sy eyes, taunting me.
Burned--steam in my face-Johnny taunting me-blue slant eyes.
Get him, cut him--wild swings, misses.
Johnny weaving--grip down, swing two-handed.
Miss, hit, miss--pale skin ripped, tattoos gouting blood. Hit, rip, rip--an arm gone, socket spray. Johnny jabbering j.a.p singsong, blue slant eyes-- Miss, miss--j.a.p Johnny p.r.o.ne, twitching crazy. Sight in--this chest tattoo--split it, split him-- Miss, miss--wax paper shredding.
Hit, jerk down--spine snaps/blade drag/pull--red EVERYWHERE.
Gasping--hard to breathe-blood in my mouth.
Somebody stabbed me--I went tingly/toasty warm/flutters up my groin.
Fading out: flamethrower burns toasty nice, j.a.p surrender.
Floating toasty black. _Tick tick_ somewhere--a clock--I counted seconds. Six thousand-drifting off--ten thou four hundred.
j.a.p zeros gliding, voices: Meg: Pops never touched me--David, don't hurt him. The peeper: Daddy, Daddy. Lucille: He's _my_ Daddy.
j.a.p zeros strafing Darktown. _Tick tick_--fourteen thousand odd.
Toasty black.
Blurry: gray herringbones, shoes.
Wall mirrors topsy-turvy; j.a.p zeros. I tried to wave--stupid--tapeddown arms wouldn't let me.
A chair--taped in snug.
Projector clicks.
White light, a white screen.
Movie time--Pops and Meg?--don't let him grope her.
I thrashed--futile-sticky tape, no give.
A white screen.
Cut to: Johnny Duhamel naked.
Cut to: Dave Klein swinging a sword.
Zooming in--the sword grip: SSGT D.D. Klein USMC Saipan 7/24/43.
Cut to: Johnny begging--"Please"--mute sound.
Cut to: Dave Klein thras.h.i.+ng--stabbing, missing.
Cut to: A severed arm twitching on wax paper.
Cut to: Dave Klein, gutting motions--Johnny D. coughing entrails.
Cut to: Lens gla.s.s dripping red; a finger flicking spine chips off the surface.
I screamed-- A needle stab cut me off mute.
Fading in--moving--night--winds.h.i.+eld blur.
n.i.g.g.e.rtown--South Central.
Chest pains, neck pains. Beard stubble, no holster.
Swerving.
Sirens _whoop whoop_.
Burn aches.
Disinfectant stink--somebody washed me.
Where/what/who--Johnny Duhamel begging.
No.
Not for real.
THEY made me do it.
Please--I didn't like it.
Sirens, flames up ahead.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Fire trucks, prowl cars. Beard stubble--say a day's worth. Smoke, fire--Bido Lito 's flaming skyward.
A roadblock--swing right-- I jumped the curb. Gray suit camera men right there--monsters.
