(to go back to Part Eight, click here)

“Slipped through your fingers?” Susan said.

“It’s complicated, really. We think he had somebody working for him on the inside. Somebody we haven’t identified yet.”

Susan held the gun box out to Puligi. “Hold this,” she said.

He almost dropped it. “Jesus, Susan. What the hell are you packing?”

“Ruger GP-100. Forty-five caliber.”

She ran to her bureau and started rifling through the top drawer. “It was my ex-husband’s. He needed something to trade me for the sailboat’s outboard motor in the settlement. It’s in here somewhere.”

“What is?” Puligi asked.

“The key to the damn gun box!” She tossed pink and baby blue panties over her head as she searched. In a misplaced thought, her mind took her back to when she threw them forward, at 1980’s rock bands.

The sound of a door crashing down brought her back to the present, followed by glass shattering. They’re both coming in. Oh God. Oh shit. She found the key.

“Stay here!” Puligi said as he set the gun box on the bed and rushed out the bedroom door.

As she watched him go, she saw the phone on her nightstand. How stupid! Call 911! The first and last time she had called 911, Ronnie had stormed into her room to tell her Trena was hurt. Now, in her most terrifying moment of need, she put the receiver to her ear. Dead. They must have cut the line.

She heard gunfire and a man shouting in pain. It sounded like Puligi.

“You son of a bitch! Take it standing up!” yelled Larry.

More shots and this time a different man crying out.

She found the key inside a pair of socks she didn’t wear any more. I knew they were in here somewhere.

“Hey, that’s my friend! Quit shooting at him! Die already!”

One shot this time, followed by a stifled yelp. Susan ran to the bed and managed to work the key into the box’s lock.

Puligi rushed into the room in a maniacal bear-crawl, dripping blood on the carpet. He slammed the door with his foot, then turned back to lock it.

“Sometimes you have to take the battle to your opponent,” he said through quick, ragged breaths. “We were going to be sitting ducks in here if I didn’t take advantage of the higher ground.”

“Larry’s dead?”

He crawled across the floor and tried to catch his breath. “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure his partner is.”

“Are you okay?”

“No, but I can’t go to the hospital right now.”

Larry’s voice called from somewhere on the stairs. “I can wait a long time, motherfuckers!”

“You’re not out of ammo yet?” Puligi yelled.

“Wouldn’t a government faggot like you like to know?”

Puligi whispered to Susan, “He had a revolver. I don’t know exactly how many shots he fired, but it was at least four or five.”

She pulled her gun from the box and held it aloft by the grip, pointed at the ceiling. “Well, I have six here.”

“You look like you know how to handle that.”

“I’ve shot lots of targets.”

Puligi pointed to the opposite side of the bed. He mouthed, “Over there.”

Susan held his hand to support him as they worked their way around the foot of the bed. They ducked between the bed and the wall.

“Hey, Batson bitch, you teach your son to screw little girls?” Larry yelled.

“He didn’t screw her, Outhouse!” she replied.

Puligi managed a deep breath and yelled, “You try to come in here and at least one of us will blow your head off!”

Susan whispered, “What do we do now? We’re trapped and my phone is dead. Don’t all you guys carry cell phones?”

“It’s in my car, hooked up to the charger. Besides, I’m pretty sure your neighbors heard the gunshots.”

It was a lot like a scenario Susan had played over and over in her head. At home, alone, reading a book in her bed. She hears a noise and realizes someone is in the apartment. She’s too scared to venture out, so she ducks behind the bed and calls out that she’s armed and knows how to shoot.

Now, however, it was real and she was not alone.

“I’m going to kill both of you and that pervert kid of hers!” Larry said.

——-

The brakes squealed and puffed as the bus stopped in the passenger loading area. Groggy from her long nap, Trena slowly stood and stretched through her spine’s protests. She noticed the dirty man looking at her chest. Nasty man. Stop it. She took a few swigs from a bottled water and then shoved it into her rucksack.

She couldn’t quite place the smell. Unlike the dry, medicinal smell of an airplane’s cabin, it was wet and musky. The bus’s less advanced air circulation system couldn’t hide the fact that humans, each with his or her own scent, were the cargo.

Trena worked her way slowly down the aisle, occasionally bumping her rucksack into the shoulders of those waiting more patiently than she ever could. She said, “I’m sorry,” at least 10 times, and rarely got a “That’s okay,” in reply, if anything other than a harsh glance.

She didn’t let the grumpy people get her down. “Thanks for a smooth ride,” she said to the driver as she turned to walk down the few steps to the oil-stained concrete.

Ronnie’s not far away now.

“Excuse me, young lady, could I have a word with you?” a man’s voice said from behind her.

She turned to see a uniformed policeman motioning her over. He was an Asian man about her height. She pointed at herself and asked, “Me?”

“Yes. I’m Officer Phong. I think some people are looking for you. Worried about you, even. Come inside out of the cold.”

Trena found it funny that he spoke with a southern drawl. She wasn’t amused, however, that Kerri must have ratted her out to her mom. How else would they have known exactly where she would be?

She followed Phong inside the station, where throngs of people waited for tickets, sat reading newspapers or playing portable video games, or cried at the sight of loved ones departing or arriving. Another policeman, standing near a wall-mounted pay telephone, raised his hand to get Phong’s attention.

Trena was vaguely aware of Phong’s introduction of his partner. All she could think of was her fading hopes of seeing Ronnie. Were these guys instructed to make her go back home? She’d crawled through two attics and skulked in and out of a minivan to get that far, only to be stopped by a tattletale’s minions. No, that’s not going to happen.

She ran.

——-

Ronnie parked at the bus station and got out. “You stay here, Grandpa, and watch for anybody suspicious. Honk like crazy if you see anybody.”

“I’m your lookout? Just what do you think is going on, Ronnie?”

“Please, just do it. I’m going in to call the cops.”

Ronnie ran. When a car backed out and hip-checked him, he limped for a few steps as he continued toward the front doors. He stopped suddenly when a little girl stepped into his path.

“Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?” she asked.

“No, thanks. In a hurry,” Ronnie said.

“Okay, thank you sir. Have a nice day.”

They’re worse than the perfume ladies at the mall.

Just through the front doors, he slowed and put his hands out to keep a turnstile from raising his voice. Looking for the phones, he noticed two policeman running around and into people. He scanned ahead of them to find their quarry.

Trena?

“Trena!” he called. She can walk! The past year had treated her well. Her body had filled out more.

Trena turned to look, but couldn’t find him. He called out again.

This time she saw him, and Ronnie thought he caught the slightest recoil in her reaction. She thinks I look bad the way my nose healed. Within a second, she looked ecstatic and weaved through the crowd toward him, the cops in close pursuit.

Ronnie felt like a pinball as he worked to meet her. When they finally made it despite the oblivious masses, they threw their arms around each other. “It’s good to see you,” they said, almost in unison.

Ronnie pushed away, his hands on her shoulders, and looked at her, incredulous. “You can walk!” he said.

“You can breathe through your nose!” Trena said.

The cops grabbed Trena’s shoulders.

“Let her go, son,” one of them said. He looked Asian but sounded like a hick.

“What’s going on? Why are you after her?” Ronnie asked.

“She’s a runaway,” said the other cop, a pale-faced man with freckles and red hair. The Irish and Asian Duo.

“I came to see him, that’s all.” Trena said.

He didn’t want to make Trena feel unimportant, and he was flattered she had gone to the trouble, but he had something else on his mind. “I need to talk to you guys, anyway,” Ronnie said. “I think somebody’s been following me, and he’s parked at my apartments right now.”

Trena’s eyes widened. “Someone’s been following me, too,” she said.

Trena listened along with the cops as Ronnie told them the story, including the stranger warning him not to communicate with her.

“Hey, Phong,” said Irish cop, “I heard about these kids today at the station. A detective called from somewhere in Indiana to tell us about their case. Chief put Padgett on it.”

“That’s these kids?” he gave them each a quick look. “Witness Protection, huh? I don’t know if I want to mess with that.”

“Please, you’ve gotta come out there and help us,” Ronnie said.

“Boyle, let’s call this one in. You two, don’t move,” Phong said.

The cops stepped away to talk privately. Phong pushed a button and spoke into the transceiver clipped on his shoulder.

Questions filled Ronnie’s mind. He blurted out, “How did you get here?”

“Where are we?” Trena said.

Ronnie thought for a moment, then smiled and pointed at her. “You took the bus.” Genius. Freakin’ genius.

“Your face. It’s –” she hesitated. “Different.”

He tried to take it in stride. “Yeah, the doctors did a few surgeries on my nose, but it never will look just like it did.”

“The last time I saw you, it was all swollen and gross. This is much better.”

“Swollen and gross? That’s how you remember me?”

“Only for a year. Now I think you’re cute again.” She smiled.

Phong and Doyle finished up their impromptu conference. They had serious looks on their faces.

“What’s wrong?” Trena asked.

“Everything’s fine. Miss, we’re under orders to take you with us.” Phong said. He turned to Ronnie, “And you, too. It may not be safe for you to travel in your car. We’re going to check out this suspected tail you say you have.”

“My grandpa’s in my car.”

Doyle sighed and rolled his eyes. “Go get him,” he said.

In the back seat of the police cruiser, Grandpa wasted no time breaking the ice. “Well, Ronnie, your mother was right. She doesn’t seem like a harlot at all.”

“Grandpa!”

“That’s okay,” Trena said. Then, to Phong and Boyle, “Why aren’t you running your sirens?”

“We don’t want to run off anybody who might be sneaking around,” Phong said.

Ronnie held back talking to Trena with everyone else in the car. He just sat back and tried to convince himself that his mom was okay. She’s a smart lady.

The town looked different somehow in light of the things going on around him. The mall and the other shops seemed trivial. St. Edward’s Hospital stood out more than usual. Although it was his first time in a police car, something else seemed strange, too.

“Hey, why don’t I hear a police radio?” he asked.

“It isn’t all APB’s and 5150’s like you hear on TV,” Phong said. “Sometimes there’s just nothing on.”

On Ronnie’s street, the car passed through alternating bands of light and shadow as they drove alongside the majestic cottonwood trees.

Ronnie starting sweating when he saw the sign for his apartments. As they turned into the parking lot, he said, “What the hell?”

Three squad cars sat, blue lights flashing, facing his apartment building. Movement on the right caught his eye. It was Billy, his gas huffing friend, trying to get a better look at what was happening.

“Mom!” Ronnie yelled. “Did you guys know about this? Is she okay?”

“We knew there was a situation, but we didn’t want you to hear anything on the radio,” Phong said.

“Hear what?” Ronnie asked. “Is somebody hurt?”

“We’re not sure, son. When we spoke to dispatch from the bus station, we heard that there had been a 911 call of shots fired.”

“Shots?” said Ronnie and Trena.

“Shit! We gotta go help her!” Ronnie added.

“All we can do is let our colleagues do their jobs,” Boyle said.

——-

Resting the heavy gun on the bed, but still keeping it aimed at the door, Susan heard hope from outside.

“This is the police. Put down your weapons and come out with your hands up,” said a voice through a megaphone.

“That’s it, Lead-head. You’re done,” Puligi shouted hoarsely.

“Fuck that,” Larry said.

A shot pierced the door and sent splinters flying into the room. The door swung open and banged into the wall.

Larry rushed into the room and turned to shoot.

Susan pulled her trigger. The recoil sent her hand up in the air and she barely held onto the gun. Larry fell against the door and dropped his, but stayed on his feet.

Susan stood up from behind the bed and faced Larry. She trained the gun on him, this time holding it securely in both hands.

“Susan, don’t shoot!” Puligi said. His voice was barely more than a ragged whisper.

She looked down at Puligi, unsure he was going to make it out alive.

When Susan looked back to the bedroom door, Larry was gone. She scanned the room and didn’t see him, but saw his gun on the floor. No, no more slipping through fingers.

Susan rushed out of the room and saw Larry had made it only three or four steps down the stairs. Figuring there was no way he could avoid prosecution this time, she aimed at his legs and fired.

As he fell Larry shouted, “You bitch!” He let out a series of grunts and expletives as he tumbled down the stairs. He said, “Motherf” and then all was silent.

Susan stood at the top and looked down. About halfway up the section above the landing was a man she’d never seen, lying perfectly still flat on his face. On the landing lay Larry Outhouse, body twisted, eyes open but not moving.

Her nose burned and her eyes starting watering. Tear gas. She ran to the bedroom. “Quick! They’re gassing the place!”

Puligi sat slack against the wall in the corner, barely visible behind the bed. Susan ran to him, “Wake up! They’re gassing the place.” She slapped his face.

His eyes blinked open for an instant and he grunted.

“No, dammit, come on. We just have to get to Ronnie’s balcony.”

She got an arm underneath his and helped him to his feet, then half dragged him to Ronnie’s room. He fell against the bed as she struggled with the sliding glass door lock. Finally, she opened the door and helped Puligi out into fresh air.

“Mom!” she heard Ronnie yell.

“Drop your weapon!” the megaphone commanded.

Susan blacked out.

(to be concluded)