He snorted. “I’m fresh out of heroics, girl. ”
They smiled at one another and were about to enter the stairwell when Trout came running out of the auditorium.
“Hey! Dez!”
She wheeled on him. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“With you. But I need a gun. ”
“Not a chance, Billy. Stay here with the kids. I don’t trust you. ”
“What? How the hell can you say—”
“With a gun, dumb-ass. You don’t know how to shoot, remember? Go find a baseball bat or something and stay the hell in there. ”
“Dez, I—”
She got up in his face, and though her mouth was hard, her eyes were pleading. “Billy … stay with the kids. Please. ”
“Ah … fuck,” he said, but he nodded. “Okay, Dez. ”
There was a brief look of relief in her eyes as she turned away and hurried down the hall with JT. For just a moment, and despite all of his conscious reasoning to the contrary, it felt to Trout that Dez was not running off to a fight, but that she was running away from him. It made no sense, but it opened a little door of insight in his head.
He turned away and Dez watched as the auditorium doors closed behind him.
Dez watched him go and she had to smile. At his willingness to help. At the courage he’d shown in coming back to town. At his ass. He had a great ass, she decided. She sighed and turned away, aware that the members of her “team” were watching her.
JT murmured, “I thought you were done with that boy. ”
“I am. ”
“Doesn’t look like it to me. ”
“Yeah, well I thought you didn’t walk with a limp,” Dez said.
“I don’t. ”
She got up in his face. “Want that to change?”
“Um … no, I don’t. ”
Dez nodded. “All right then, end of discussion. ”
If JT planned to say more it was cut short by a piercing scream of terrible pain that floated on the sluggish air from the darkened stairwell.
CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE
OLD FAIRBANKS ROAD
NEAR BORDENTOWN
Homer Gibbon heard the sound before he saw them. It was a big, deep, bass sound that filtered through the rain and the radio and the sound of his wipers. The throp-throp-throp of helicopter rotors. He pulled to the side of the road, rolled down his window, and leaned out to look.
They came over the treeline like a flight of giant insects from some old monster movie. Homer had never been in the military, but he knew everything related to war. From movies, from books and magazines, from endless jailhouse conversations. These were Apache Longbows, and he was pretty sure they were outfitted with 30mm chain guns, Hellfire, Hydra, Stinger, and Sidewinder missiles. At least that’s what he remembered.
Homer smiled.
Nice.