Part of the truck now hung over the side of the hill. The engine was still running. I pried my bloody hands off the ridge, my triceps tight like I'd just done a hundred reps. I waited, listening, but couldn't tell if the dude inside was moving around or not. I didn't have a gun or any more grenades. I looked back down the road but couldn't see Danny.
All right, do something. I leaped off the truck, landing where the underside was facing out. Suddenly gunfire tore from somewhere and I could hear the windshield explode into a million pieces. I dove flat, covering my head, almost peeing in my pants.
"Come on, hero," he teased me, "are you man enough or not?" He shot the assault weapon again, but he wasn't moving around. He was popping from inside the truck. I smiled. He must still be blinded from the grenade. I got up, my right leg almost unable to bend. But I couldn't worry about that right now. Whatever I'd done to it, I could use some of my millions to get it fixed.
I latched onto the axle to hoist myself up. My shoulder brushed against the oil pan, and it burned like hell. "Shit," I screamed.
The blind boy in the truck laughed. ''Hurt yourself, honey?" Motherfuckah.
I eased around to the front. Then the damn truck moved and my heart shot into my throat. The fucking thing was rocking on the edge. But there were no other plays I could run. The shooter's vision would be clearing up any second and I had to be in motion before that. I peeked around the corner of the front of the truck to look through the windshield. The chump was lodged in there, the steering wheel pressed up on him. He was holding the gun, swinging it this way and that.
"Hey," Danny called from below, at least having enough sense not to use my name. "She's monitored the police calls. Somebody called the sheriff, man."
The gun went off again. He was shooting around, hoping to hit me. Obviously he still wasn't seeing good. I moved as fast as I could. The dude was blinking, trying to hear which way I was coming. His gun swung up, left, right, then dead on me. His eyes were looking better. Blood was running from his nose. My hip was oatmeal. I sprinted at him, crying silently in pain, and all but fell into the truck through the busted-out windshield. I grabbed the barrel of the gun, then landed an elbow on his face.
"Black bastard," he yelled, beating at me with his fist and trying to pull my mask off.
I guess my weight did it 'cause the truck went over the roadway, sliding down the hill. I held on, my arms pulled so tight I was afraid I'd dislocate my shoulders. It was only a few seconds but it seemed a lot longer. The truck stopped, wedged against some rocks and shit poking out of the hill. How long it would stay there I had no idea.
The breath was knocked out of me. I was laying all up in the cab, my arms barely able to move. But I had to keep pushing myself, I had to win. There would be no rematch after today.
The shooter was wailing in pain. The steering wheel and dash had collapsed on him. Using my feet I couldn't make a fist and my arms couldn't swing I knocked the shit out of the fool with whatever I had left. Suddenly dust clouds came up around us. The truck was starting to slide again.
"Zelmont," Wilma said from up on the road.
I was so goddamn worn out I was gonna collapse.
"Zelmont," she screamed.
"Get your ass down here and help me. This rig is about to slide down the mountain with our money." The fool pinned under the wheel groaned and I slapped him upside the head. I'd already thrown his piece out the window.
"Nap's hurt," she said. "Danny is bringing him over."
I stuck my head out the window as the truck wobbled some more. "Wilma, didn't you hear me? You gotta get down this hill now."
The sirens could barely be heard under our voices. We stared hard at each other. I started easing out of the broken window, but the truck was teetering and tottering so I stopped.
Danny came hobbling up with Nap. The big man didn't look too good. His face was losing color. His side was red where he'd been shot and so were both of his hands. Danny had tied his sweat top around his brother's torso. But we all could tell it wasn't helping much.
"Come down here and get this cash," I shouted at Danny.
The young buck was looking back, then at Wilma, then at me. Panic was as plain as zits on the boy's face. "Come on, you and Wilma gotta do it." She looked at me as I pointed at her. "Yeah, miss thing, you gotta get dirty like the rest of us peasants."
Wilma was gonna say something, but didn't. Danny let Nap down on the road.
"Danny, you stay there," I said. "Wilma, take the lead to the truck here."
"Where's the money hidden?" Wilma asked.
"In the back, you gotta dive in."
The disgust on her face was enough to make me laugh, but I held off. "Here," I said, holding up the headpiece with its built-in gas mask. I'd snatched it off the driver.
"But"
"Hurry up, Wilma," I ordered her.
She scooted down to where I was. She put on the mask, giving me the evil eye with her beautiful browns. I pointed to the rear. "Get busy."
The truck creaked, and I was sure I was a goner. If that wasn't enough, the sirens were getting closer. But the truck settled, and Wilma got to work.
Calling up reserves from who knows where, I got myself loose and crawled over to the rear doors. The shift of weight made the goddamn thing move again. When it stopped I kept going to the back of the truck. Luck was with us and both of the doors had been thrown open in the crash.
I had to hand it to Wilma, she was getting the job done. I guess greed is a great motivator. She hauled out the wire bundles, dollar bills peeking from the edges of the brown paper they were wrapped in. She handed them to me and I passed them up to Danny. We had an assembly line going on.
"I think that's it," she said, taking off her mask. Garbage and stink came off her in waves. I sure hoped the cops didn't stop her. "Good thing there was a large bin along one wall underneath the garbage that the bundles were packed in."
I wanted to smile but I was having back spasms. Together with the hip I could barely move. "Help me up to the road," I said to her, sinking to one knee. Whatever I'd been running on was spent. I put my head down.
When I raised my eyes I saw Wilma standing over me. Despite the stains on her clothes and junk hanging off her she managed to look superior.
"The great Zelmont Raines," she snarled, hands on her hips.
She looked up at Danny, who was no doubt loading the bundles into the Mazda van she'd rented. I couldn't see her ride from where I was but knew it had to be up there on the road. The engine was purring like a cheetah, all ready to gobble up some pavement. If she was gonna double cross me, this would be the best time to do it.
"Funny how things work out, ain't it?"
"Isn't it, though?" Wilma stared down at me.
Danny suddenly reappeared, his Glock in his hand.
"Get Zelmont out of there." Nap had managed to half stand up, but he was damn near out on his feet too. "Do it." He spoke in the tone he had used so many times to get us fired up in the fourth quarter.
"Sure, Nap, that's what I was going to do." Wilma grabbed the front of my overalls and got me to my feet. As she did, the truck crashed down onto the hill, kicking up all kinds of dust and rocks. Me and Wilma just looked at each other.
"If we take Napoleon out of here we're bound to be spotted. The cops are probably going to be stopping all vehicles in this area, and four black people in one is going to attract attention."
I didn't like where she was going, but it did make sense. "Then you better leave me and Nap since we're both busted up and that will make the pigs suspect."