Gone (Gone 1)
Page 205
Enough of licking his wounds.
The battle was joined.
“Time,” he said. “Time to show them all.”
He kicked his own front door open and marched toward the plaza, shouting, shouting, wishing he could bay at the moon like the coyotes.
He heard guns firing and pulled his pistol from his belt and uncoiled his whip hand and snapped it, loving the crack it made.
Ahead, two figures were moving away from him, also heading for the sound of battle, two figures. One seemed impossibly small. But no, it was the other that was impossibly big. Sumo big. A shuffling, slumping, thick-limbed creature.
The two mismatched ones moved into a pool of light cast by a streetlamp. Drake recognized the smaller one.
“Howard, you traitor,” Drake shouted.
Howard stopped. The beast beside him kept walking.
“You don’t want any of this, Drake,” Howard warned.
Drake whipped him across the chest, tore Howard’s shirt open, left a trail of blood that was black in the harsh light.
“You better be on your way to help take down Sam,” Drake warned.
The rough beast stopped. It turned slowly and came back.
“What is that?” Drake demanded sharply.
“You,” the beast muttered.
“Orc?” Drake cried, half thrilled, half terrified.
“It’s your fault I did it,” Orc said dully.
“Get out of my way,” Drake ordered. “There’s a fight. Come with me or die right now.”
“He just wants some beer, Drake,” Howard said placatingly, clutching the wound in his chest, hunched over in pain, but still trying to manipulate, still trying to be clever.
“God’s judgment on me,” Orc slurred.
“You stupid lump,” Drake said, and whirled his whip hand and brought it down full force on Orc’s shoulder.
“AAHHH!” Orc bellowed in pain.
“Get moving, you moron,” Drake ordered.
Orc got moving. But not toward the plaza.
“You want a piece of Whip Hand, freak?” Drake demanded. “I’ll cut you up.”
Astrid felt a crushing weight on her lower back and legs. She was facedown, lying on top of Little Pete. She was stunned, but had enough presence of mind to understand that she was stunned.
She took a deep breath.
She whispered, “Petey.” She heard the sound through her bones. Her ears were ringing, muffling sound.
Little Pete wasn’t moving.
She tried to draw her legs up, but they wouldn’t move.