I tossed two more flash grenades and went low as one of the stiffs let loose with his chatter gun. The whiteness spurted up around us like thick fog rolling in on the beach.
"What in hell," one of them yelled.
The shotgun's buckshot caught this cat in his stomach. Parts of his suit and body splattered everywhere as he slammed back into the truck.
I went over the edge of the roadway, using my arm to vault the low rail. The brightness of the grenades was fading. Bullets tore into the rail and the air around me as I dropped down on the side of the rise onto something sticking out from the hill. Danny had pulled Nap behind the Cordoba. One of the shooters was burying bullets in the car from where he crouched beside the truck.
I stuffed more shells into the Remington from the extras I had tucked away beneath my flak jacket and pumped off a couple at him. Where was number three? I went back down before the shooter turned my way and buzzed off some rounds toward me. He couldn't get us, but we couldn't get him either.
"Hey, how is he?" I yelled at Danny
"He's breathing." More gunfire popped off.
I was crouched on a large sewer pipe buried in the hillside. There was a grate over the front of the thing. My hip had eased some, and I crawled up the hill on my elbows. The truck was sitting near the top of the roadway. It was starting to get dark. I looked around. Across from where I was on the other side of the valley I saw some kind of power plant. There were large tubes running from the plant into the hillside. I looked back toward the road again.
I had a bad feeling the third gun was trying to sneak up on us, but I couldn't see how. There was no way to get to where I was except by coming over the rail. Maybe he was climbing on top of the truck to give himself a better shot. That way he could draw down on Danny too.
"Hey," I hollered again, but stopped. I could hear the truck going into gear and looked through the gap between the railing and the road to see it being turned straight again. The gunman who'd been shooting at us dived into the back, which was still open. The truck smashed into the Cordoba, crunching in the front part. Then the driver shoved the clutch into first and got it churning uphill again. The fool was going to try to get past the bobtail on one side. I went over the rail, holding onto the shotgun.
The driver went to the left of the bobtail where there was some space. He slowed down, then revved up, hitting the bobtail smack on the corner. He was gonna do it like a bank shot on an eight ball. The bobtail's rear end swung toward the mountain, then stopped. The damn thing was too heavy to ram like that. Me and Nap had put sandbags in the cargo part to give it extra weight. I let loose with a round from the shotgun, only hitting the side of the truck.
The driver souped the truck again and shot forward. This time he clipped the bobtail just right with a lot of force. The gunman in the back lost his balance, though, and dropped out on the roadway, landing on his side. As he got to his feet, Danny caught him square in the lower leg and he went down again.
The bobtail had been knocked straight enough to allow the garbage truck almost enough room to pass. Now the truck was chugging steadily upward, scraping the side of the bobtail as it tried to get past. Goddammit, stupid-ass Danny must not have shot out any of the tires. The garbage truck turned to the left again, tearing up railing like it was tin foil. Smart motherfuckah.
The dude in the roadway tried to get up and run for cover but his wound was too bad. He fell back down, holding onto his gun. I stood up and he drew down on me, but Danny clipped him from the side where he was hiding next to the Cordoba. The cat went over like he was a piece of cardboard in a strong wind.
I took another shot at the truck. But a return blast came from the driver and I went flat in the road, rolling to my right. Good thing he was busy trying to get the garbage truck away He went back at it, the truck half climbing over the rail as it ground the thin metal under its weight. The tires smoked and the gears made loud whining sounds.
The bobtail shook and rattled as the garbage truck bumped against it. I took off the flak jacket, dropped the shotgun, and started booking. They were weighing me down, and I was gonna need all the speed I could stoke. As I started to run up the hill, the driver steered the truck out toward the edge of the roadway Then right when it looked like it would go over the edge, he swung it back and cleared the bobtail.
My hip was absolute Jell-O, a hot shiver going up and down my leg. But I had no choice, I had to catch that truck. There was way too much to lose. Much more than I already had lost. The fibula and all that shit in my hip started to grind, but I couldn't take the time to care. Five, maybe six million dollars was gonna disappear around the top of the rise, and that damn sure couldn't happen. My future was in that garbage truck.
The thing was making its way up the hill, garbage spilling out the back. The truck would soon be at the top. I didn't know if Wilma was coming up from below. She must have heard the gunplay, but that was expected. We'd decided not to use cell phones ourselves just in case there was any monitoring going on by the DOJ or whoever. Maintaining radio silence that's what they called it on old episodes of Combat. I sure could use Sergeant Saunders' cool machine gun right about now to drop out of the sky and into my hands.
The truck's clutch wound up and I knew he'd slipped past second and popped it into third, hoping for more speed. A shot ripped out from the driver's side, striking the ground near me. He had to be using one hand to fire his semi-auto, keeping the other one on the truck's wheel. Good thing too since it had thrown his shooting off.
The truck was gaining speed and I wasn't. Come on, Zelmont, this is it and there ain't no more. No more chicks throwing their twat in my face, no more fine vines and bad rides, no more house in the hills. Yeah, no more house in the hills. I put to it, knowing my hip was gonna explode any second. The truck stayed in low gear 'cause he needed the torque to get the elephant of a machine up the hill.
Let's do it, Zelmont. No time left in the quarter and only one chance. I had the endurance but the hip was weak. No matter, I had to catch this fool. The truck was almost at the top and that would be my last chance. He'd have to slow up 'cause there was a turn and it was too sharp to make it like he was going.
Do it, Zelmont, do it.
I pumped and just as I was closing the gap I got wise. Rather than run up alongside where the driver was and get ganked, I'd go to his blind side and try that action. Keep going, Zelmont, keep going. I got to the truck just as he was doing the turn. Sure enough, he let loose with gunfire, knowing I was closing in on his trifling self. But I was already latching onto the unlocked rear door. The truck bolted forward, whipping around the curve and down the hill. Below us the lights were on and the city looked so peaceful, like there would be tomorrows forever.
I hung onto the door for life as it kept flapping, praying for my hip to keep functioning. If I slowed down I knew it would lock up again. I got going, climbing up the door along its edge. Twice I almost slipped down under the wheels of the rig, but somehow I got to the top of the truck. I went flat to rest and plan my next move. Below me I felt a lump, and I knew what to do.
The truck was whipping down the hill, the wind finally popping the ear that had stuffed up. The driver shot rounds into the top of the cab's roof, trying to nail me. But I'd laid back, waiting for him to do that. As we sped along I went forward again. I pulled the tab on the last flash grenade, then leaned over the passenger side of the cab and threw it through the busted-out window. It went off, blinding the driver. The truck swerved, the brakes screeching like crazy. Any second we were gonna tip over and I'd be thrown off the truck and the mountain. I held onto the frame of the passenger window, the little pieces of glass still left cutting into my hand. The truck's rear froze and the damned thing went sideways, tearing up the railing. The thing tipped over like I knew it would, the driver's side falling down on the roadway I held onto a metal ridge, my hands going numb. I couldn't lose, I just couldn't.