Part 23 (2/2)
”Uh-oh,” Julianne said. ”This isn't good.”
”I told you something was happening. I can't figure out how they filled that thing with water. There must be a tank of some sort.”
”No,” she said. ”Not what I mean, Deuce.”
I looked at her. Her hand was still on her stomach, but her breathing had slowed and her jaw didn't look like it was clenched shut. But she was standing in a large puddle of . . . something.
”My water just broke.”
And then it really got crazy.
46.
”Your what just what?” I said amid the shouting and noise.
”Relax,” she said, leaning against our now stationary float. ”My water broke. The beast is definitely coming.” She pumped a fist in the air. ”Yes!”
I glanced away from her. Susan was making her way up the sidewalk, moving into the thicker part of the crowd, looking back over her shoulder. I didn't want her to get away.
”We have some time?” I asked.
”Yeah, we can finish the parade,” she said, then looked at the chaos in front of us. ”If there is a rest of the parade.”
The C.A.K.E. protesters were still firing water at the judges and screaming, but people were realizing that it wasn't part of the show and were starting to flow from the street to their truck to try and stop them. Mama, Bruce, and Matilda were trying to scramble down from their now soaked stage on the tower, but the hoses were making it difficult. Several men from the crowd were climbing aboard the C.A.K.E. truck and wrestling with Scarecrow and his cohorts. Dorothy was still screaming her brains out.
And Susan was getting away.
”I need to go get Susan,” I said.
”What?”
”I can't explain now,” I said. ”But she's trying to escape.”
”From what?”
”I think she killed George! And she's running!”
”Deuce, so help me, if you are chasing that woman and miss . . .”
”I won't. I promise.”
”. . . I swear to the Lord, I will murder both you and Victor and I'll tell this child that he or she was immaculately concepted.”
”Conceived.”
”Whatever! Now's not the best time to correct my grammar, Deuce. Just promise you won't miss the birth of your child.”
”I'll be there. I promise. We've got time, right? You just said so!”
”Deuce, if you . . .”
”I'll bet you,” I said, glancing toward the crowd. I could still see Susan, but she was about to round the corner toward the fairgrounds and I was going to lose her. ”I'll bet you I'll be there.”
”Bet me what? And are you wagering on the birth of your child?? Right now??”
”I make it there in time, I get to name the baby,” I said. ”I don't, you get full naming power.”
She started to say something, but then thought about it. I think at that point she actually would've been glad for me to miss it.
”Full naming power?” she asked. ”No arguments?”
”None. But if I get there, I get full naming rights.”
Her voice was drowned out by the roar of a motorcycle behind us.
Butch had pulled up, his helmet on, his sungla.s.ses on, a stern expression on his face.
And a ma.s.sive flag with George's face on it mounted on the back of his bike.
”She's running!” he yelled. ”You need a lift?”
”What?”
”The Blamunski woman,” he said. ”I heard part of your conversation. She's running. You need a lift before she gets away?”
I looked at Julianne.
”I swear to G.o.d, you better be there,” she said. ”Go.”
I kissed her cheek. ”I will be. Full naming rights.”
I looked at Butch. ”You got another bike that could get her to the hospital?”
Butch turned around, put his fingers to his lips, and ripped off an ear-piercing whistle. Two bikes immediately roared in behind him, both with the same George flag attached to the back of them.
”This woman needs a ride,” Butch yelled. ”Take her wherever she tells you!”
Julianne's forehead was in her hand.
I climbed on the back of Butch's bike and shoved on an extra helmet he'd handed me. ”I love you! I'll be there!”
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