Those thoughts raced through Longarm's brain in an instant as he gripped Claudette's arm and attempted to wedge a path through the crowd for them. Everyone was pushing forward, trying to get closer to the floats that were still passing by, and once again Longarm was struck by the similarity to swimming upstream. He and Claudette were making only scanty progress.
How he heard the gun being cocked over the uproar was beyond him. Maybe it was instinct again. But something made him jerk around in time to see the little pistol being pointed at him by an Indian--or somebody made up to look like an Indian. Longarm's hand shot out and grabbed the barrel of the gun, twisting it upward just as it cracked spitefully. He heard the wicked whine of the bullet passing close beside his ear. It struck his hat and sent it spinning off his head. The Indian tried to bring the gun back to bear, but Longarm held it off while he brought his other hand up in a jabbing blow. With people all around him, there was no room to swing the roundhouse punch he wanted to throw.
The jab was good enough. The Indian's head rocked back, and the pistol slipped from his fingers. Longarm shoved him away and turned back to Claudette, hoping nothing had happened to her.
She was still there, but the crowd around her was clearing out a little. The gunshot had been loud enough to carry to the ears of the nearest revelers, and they were scurrying for cover. Several men shouted angry questions, and a couple of women cried out in fear. Longarm just grabbed Claudette's arm again and took advantage of the opportunity to plunge through the momentary opening in the crowd.
The whole place might be full of assassins, he realized. Like a damn fool, he had come out here to have a good time, and Royale's hired killers had followed him. He still had no idea what had happened to Annie and Paul, but there was no time to search for them now. He had to get Claudette to someplace where she would be safe.
For several yards, they were able to hurry along the sidewalk, but then the crowd closed in around them again. These people further along the block had not heard the shot, and did not know that a murder attempt was occurring in their midst. Frustrated, Longarm tightened his grip on Claudette's hand and pulled her toward the only open space he saw.
Together, they ran into the street, darting between two of the floats.
A startled shout went up from the krewe members on the next float in line. Longarm turned and began running alongside the colorful procession, tugging Claudette along with him. It was as if they were part of the parade, despite the fact that neither of them wore costumes. More shouts of surprise trailed them. Interfering with the Mardi Gras parade was unheard of. Not even those who had drunk far too much champagne would dare such a thing.
Longarm looked back and saw that he and Claudette weren't the only ones ignoring tradition tonight. Several men were pursuing them: a clown, a devil, and a man in the buckskins and coonskin cap of an early-day frontiersman. Dan Rice, Satan, and Davy Crockett, Longarm thought wildly. But the guns in their hands made them a deadly trio.
Those guns began to bang, and again there were screams as the crowd broke and ran for cover. The parade came to a screeching halt. Longarm ducked around another float, crossing back to the side of the street where he and Claudette had started. The would-be killers veered after them, firing again. Longarm heard bullets whip past his head, and hoped that the stray shots didn't hit anybody in the crowd.
He hoped as well that Captain Denton had some officers assigned to the parade route, but so far Longarm hadn't seen any police. Maybe they knew better than to interfere with Mardi Gras. It was certainly beginning to look like Longarm couldn't count on any help from that quarter.
Shoving Claudette on ahead of him, he turned and palmed out his Colt. He took careful aim and squeezed off a quick shot, and the clown stumbled, clutching at the leg Longarm's bullet had just ventilated. The brightly garbed killer tumbled off his feet, shouting curses. The Devil and Davy Crockett came on without slowing down. The guns in their hands blasted.
Longarm turned and ran again, thankful that Claudette hadn't slowed while he paused to cut down the odds. She was several yards in front of him now. She threw a frightened glance over her shoulder to make sure he was still behind her.
The mouth of an alley loomed up on their right. "In there!" called Longarm, indicating the alley with a wave of his gun hand as Claudette looked back again. She made the turn, stumbling only a little as she did so. Longarm plunged into the gloom of the alley behind her. Here in the thick shadows, Claudette was forced to slow down, and he caught up with her in a matter of seconds.
"Custis!" she panted, breathless from both exertion and fear.
"Keep going," he told her. "I'll slow them down again."
As he stopped and turned, he saw two figures loom up at the mouth of the alley, silhouetted by the light from the street behind them. One shape was indistinct, but the other was clearly marked by horns and a tail. Longarm triggered twice, aiming low. The muzzle blasts lit up the alley for an instant like orange lightning, and the roar of the shots was deafening in these narrow confines. Longarm couldn't tell if he had done any damage or not. Both of the pursuers fired, and brick chips thrown out by the bullets as they struck the building beside Longarm stung his face.
Behind him somewhere, Claudette let out a scream and shouted, "Custis!" Her voice was filled with mortal fear.
Longarm whirled around, leery of turning his back to the assassins, but knowing that he had to see what was happening to Claudette. He ran down the alley, heedless of any obstacles that might be in his path, veering from side to side to make himself a more difficult target. Suddenly, without any warning, he emerged into a small rear courtyard behind the buildings, and enough light came from the windows for him to see what was going on.
Despite the warmth of the night, his blood froze at the scene laid out before him.
Claudette was struggling in the grip of a huge black man in work clothes. She flailed at him and clawed his face, but he didn't seem to even feel the blows. He wasn't trying to hurt her, but he was holding her in an unbreakable grip.
Another man was shuffling toward Longarm, arms outstretched, his face as dull and lacking in expression as that of his companion. Longarm took one look at him and uttered a heartfelt, "Shit!"
The Devil and Davy Crockett behind him, bent on filling him full of lead, and a pair of equally murderous zombies in front of him...
It was times like this that made a fella wonder why he had ever pinned on a lawman's badge in the first place.
CHAPTER 12
The two pursuers burst out of the alley into the courtyard and opened fire just as the dead-eyed man lunged toward Longarm. Longarm threw himself to the side, rolling out of the way. The gunmen couldn't stop their trigger fingers in time, and several shots roared out.
But instead of hitting Longarm, the bullets thudded into the broad chest of the huge black man who had tried to grab him. Just as before, the slugs barely slowed the man. Unable to stop his single-minded charge, he crashed into the two costumed bushwhackers. They yelled in horror as his hands found their throats. More shots roared, the explosions muffled by the huge body.
Longarm came up in a crouch, knowing that for the time being at least, three of his enemies were occupied with each other. That left Claudette, who was still struggling in the grip of the other... well, zombie. There was nothing else to call them, thought Longarm. He reversed his hold on the Colt and threw himself at the figures swaying in the shadows.