Part 20 (1/2)
”Ain't this why you love us so much” was no question.
But ”What you doing at our Crypt. You ready to be Bones?” was what got Abby's attention.
”I've come to talk,” Abby said, voice even and clear.
Across the street from her, a punk with bad acne and a worse leer shook his head. ”Shows what you know about the Bones. We don't talk to you. We do you.”
That got a laugh from the porch. Abby could almost hear pistols slipping out of their hidden holsters. These were the best the Bones had. These were the ones that carried the heat.
Do this wrong, Abby girl, and there will be a lot of blood and guts on the street, but not one ounce of brains.
”I heard tell that you might have happened on a friend of mine. Young kid. About as tall as me.”
”You like'em young” came from another punk, and brought snickers.
”My niece likes him,” was all Abby said.
”Maybe I like her,” said another lounger. He got even more snickers, and suggestions of what to do with Cara, and how.
Abby found her hold on her temper slipping.
And a firm hand gripped her right elbow.
”We didn't come here to banter with nadas,” Sergeant Bruce's voice rang out loud and clear. ”Why don't you take your jokes inside and tell the Bone Man he's got company that wants to discuss some serious s.h.i.+t with him?”
”And who might that be?” said the first slick punk with the sly grin Abby so wanted to wipe off his face.
”Princess Kristine of Wardhaven” blasted loud.
Three black, all-terrain rigs gunned down the street, sending a cloud of dust out that could have pa.s.sed for a smoke screen. The ”sunroof” was open on all three, with gunners manning mean-looking machine guns from well-defended positions. Second squad rode the running boards.
A moment later, the three rigs came to a halt behind Abby and Sergeant Bruce. Marines poured off them and came out of the shade behind them to fill in the intervals with armed and ready shooters.
”Now that's the way the cavalry is supposed to do it,” Bruce whispered in Abby's ear.
27.
Kris let the Marines do their thing, waiting in the back seat of the middle rig, careful not to step on any of the captain's sparkles. Though she was only seeing it from the rear, so to speak, the show was quite impressive.
With full-battle rattle, it would be as intimidating as all get out.
It was probably the lack of full-battle gear that left someone with the guts to shoot.
Kris was about to let Captain DeVar hand her out of the rig. That would normally have been Jack's job, but what with both of them beat up, it would not have been very impressive for them to fall flat on their a.s.ses. So Kris was just that extra second longer in dismounting and someone was just recovered enough to take a shot.
It was a strange battle to listen to. Or maybe this battle was a unique affair.
A pistol snapped off full-power rounds as fast as someone could pull the trigger. Another joined it. Then more.
From around Kris, she heard the pop of one low-powered sleepy dart. Then another single shot. Then more.
Very quickly there was nothing coming in on full power.
Just as quickly, the sleepy darts fell silent.
Captain DeVar stood up on the running board, giving Kris a good view of the sharp creases in even his civilian pants. ”You dudes had enough fun? Any more of you want to try that?”
Apparently the survivors declined the offer.
”Any Marines down?”
”No, sir,” the sergeants answered quickly.
The captain dropped gracefully down to the ground and faced Kris. ”Your Highness, you sure you want to do this? I imagine about now, there's a lot of folks in great need of changing their underwear. I figure I can get the kid back just fine.”
”What, and miss a chance to talk to a local,” Kris said with all the panache the pain and drugs allowed her. ”Who knows, this one might tell me the truth for a change.”
”I will never understand Longknifes,” Captain DeVar said, offering Kris his hand.
”n.o.body does, Captain,” Kris said, dismounting. ”Not even Longknifes. But you didn't hear that from me. It's top secret.”
The captain mumbled something under his breath. Kris made a point of not hearing it.
Marines held their automatics at high port; there was nothing coy now. They escorted Kris, Abby, and a darling girl Kris took for Cara, across the street and into the shade of the front porch.
No one lounged at the tables now. Those still mobile were as far to the left or right as the porch rails allowed.
Several were no longer able to move.
The center of the porch had tables upended and seven, eight men down. Most were sleeping the sleep of Pfizer-Colt's best. Two, no three, were bleeding.
”Did we do that?” Kris asked Captain DeVar.
”No, Your Highness, those rounds came from the back or side. My guess is these boys weren't all that good at shooting. Hopped up on adrenaline and fear, they couldn't hit the broad side of a barn at five paces, much less my Marines at ten. But they sure could hit the guy next to them, or ahead of them. What were the heartbeats on this bunch, Sergeant Bruce?”
”Gabby says they were pounding near out of their chests, sir.”
”Amateurs. Sergeant, how's your heart?”
”Been higher on the shooting range with Gunny Brown breathing down my neck, sir.” That came with a grin.
”How I like working with pros,” the captain finished. ”Your Highness, you stay here while I take a gander inside.”