“My own people, using my very own words against me,” Hanrahan said, shaking his head in mock sorrow. “What would poor Mother Hanrahan say if she wasn’t already in the clouds rocking sweet baby Jesus?”
“‘Gonna kick yer hairy asses for making poor Robbie cry’?” the cop suggested.
“Amen,” Hanrahan said, steepling his hands as if in prayer. “Now let’s get on with the mope hunt.”
Superstition winced theatrically. “I need to stop at Bubbles first.”
“Why?”
“Icky girl stuff you don’t want to hear about,” she said.
“Oh, well, then, shoo,” he said, motioning her away with both hands. “We’ll set up down the block and await your tangerine presence.”
She ran for the lounge as her team headed south.
Nogales, Arizona
Derek Davis blinked.
Looked at his hands.
Saw twenty fingers.
Shook his head.
Saw thirty.
“Oh, man,” he groaned.
He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t work. His arms did, a little. He clawed out of the blast hole and onto the hard-packed flat, panting like hundred-meter gold.
Where am I?
He slapped himself a couple times to wake his memory. Examined his palms.
Slippery with blood.
He spit. More blood. He saw holes in his flesh, round and puckered and burning like arc welders. There was a constellation of cuts, scrapes, and gouges, plus a raw furrow on the side of his head. He slipped a finger into the trough. His nail tapped something hard.
Skull bone.
He blew out his breath. He wasn’t dead, but it had been close. “World of hurt, cowboy,” he muttered. The cobwebs cleared a little. He looked around. “Bee,” he yelled in a phlegmy voice that sounded like nobody he knew. “You out there?”
“Damn tootin’, son,” the reply as sweet as apple cider. “They’re gone. You drove ’em off.”
“Good. That’s good,” Davis coughed. He wiped the dribble, took a look.
Frothy and pink.
Lung shot. Bullet or frag, he couldn’t tell. It wasn’t bad, since he was still breathing.
Not good, either.
“They banged me up some,” he said.
“Me too,” Charvat said. They traded explanations. “You gonna live?”
Davis shook his head. Then nodded, trying to be optimistic. “I’ll try my best,” he said. “Legs aren’t working. Arms are all right.”
“See if you can crawl,” Charvat said.
Davis was sure he couldn’t. Tried anyway. Made it a foot from the blast-hole. Strained real hard and made another foot.
“Slow as a constipated goat,” he said.
“You’re on a goat path, so that makes sense,” Charvat said, trying to move away from the boulders. He got nowhere, a turtle flipped on its back. “I’m stuck. I can bandage your wounds if you can get to me.”
“Deal,” Davis said. Dynamite kept erupting in his head. His vision swam in and out. He throbbed in places he didn’t know existed. “Does your cell phone work?”
“No. Shot up. Yours?”
“It’s on the path between here and you.”
“Can you get there?”
“Yeah, but you’d better pray that signal’s good.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Ma Bell,” Charvat said, folding his hand over his heart.
Davis locked his eyes on the phone. Grunted like he was messing his pants. Moved a foot. Then another. Thought of Superstition. Made a yard.
“Any chance you saw the man in charge, Derek?”
“The jefe?” Davis said. He recalled a rangy Mexican with a perpetual scowl, wearing crossed ammo belts. “Yes. Caught a decent look from the ridge.”
“Could you describe him?”
Davis did, added the license plate. Charvat whistled.
“What, you know this guy?” Davis said.
“Nope. Just pleasantly surprised at your good description. I’ll hire you if you pass the physical.”
Pass the physical. Davis began laughing. It turned into a hacking cough that brought up pieces of . . . well, he didn’t want to know. Accompanied by a thick, black fog he feared wasn’t actually in the air.
“Uh, Brian?”
“Right here.”
“I’m finding it a little hard to see all of a sudden.”
Silence.
“‘Course it’s hard to see, son,” Charvat said gently. “Sandstorm just moved in, doncha know.”
Davis looked up. The Man in the Moon grinned bright.
“Yeah, that must be it,” he said.
He coughed up more blood, kept crawling with his arms, which burned with effort and pain. Now the cell phone was within two yards. One yard. One foot. One inch. He wriggled his swollen hands from under his body and touched the lifesaving device . . .