Jenna stumbled and grabbed hold of one of the machines.
“You really don’t want to do this,” Michael said, stepping toward them now. “Just let me take the girl and we’ll save the dustup for another day. I couldn’t care less about a worthless bunch of drudges.”
“Worthless?” Zack said. “You trying to hurt our feelings?”
“That would require you have a heart and a mind and a soul. And you’re oh-for-three at-”
The Winnebago roared and came at Michael, swinging the pipe hard, aiming for his head. Michael ducked with plenty of room, but the Winnebago swung again, going for another head shot. The pipe whooshed past Michael and he jerked back, watching it brush past his chin, a little too close for comfort. Then he sidestepped and spun and sliced the Winnebago’s gut with his Roman.
A split second later, the guy vaporized, dust scattering violently in the air, blowing directly into the faces of Zack and the others, as the pipe he’d held clattered on the floor.
But Michael didn’t slow down. Not waiting for them to attack, he spun and swung, effortlessly knocking the pipe out of the tattooed chick’s hands, then doubled back and brought up the Roman again, the edge of his blade slicing through the swastika on her neck. She burst into fine ashes, her piercings scattering across the floor like jacks on asphalt.
Deciding he didn’t have time to waste on this nonsense, Michael ripped his Glock from his waistband and opened fire, taking out the two remaining muscle men with two quick shots.
Then he turned the gun on Zack.
Zack took one look at the bead rings, the nose hoop, the star plugs, the barbells, the ear studs, the nipple piercings and God knew what else on the floor in front of him and stumbled backwards, dropping his weapon, throwing his hands up. “Okay, okay, okay, man! I give! I give!”
Michael stopped, lowered the gun. “What do you do when you see a roach on your kitchen floor, Zack?”
Zack looked confused. “What?”
“Just answer the question. What do you do when you see a roach?”
Zack kept backing away. “I don’t know, man, I don’t know-I-I step on it. What do you do?”
Michael smiled. “Show it no mercy.”
Then he brought the gun up again and fired, the bullet piercing Zack’s chest, turning him to dust.
Good riddance to bad rubbish.
Michael crossed to the sewing machines, where Jenna stood frozen on the spot. Despite the drugs, there was a look of stunned disbelief on her face.
Had she really just seen all that?
“W-who are you?” she stuttered. “What just happened?”
“I’ll explain later,” he said, grabbing her by the wrist. “There’s bound to be an army coming up those stairs any minute now and we need to get out of here.”
She jerked her arm, trying to pull free. “You’re a lunatic. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Michael held her firm and leaned his face toward hers. “Listen to me, Jenna. I didn’t want it to happen like this, but if you stay here you’re in danger. We have to go. Now.”
He could see that the drugs were still confusing her, that she didn’t know what to do, but she stopped resisting and he tightened his grip on her and pulled her toward the door. Without a backwards glance, they ran to his Buick, jumped in.
“Put on your seat belt,” he said, firing up the engine. Then he jerked the car into drive.
Two minutes later, they were blasting down Wilshire, weaving in and out of traffic, and the girl had come out of her stupor enough to realize how scared she was.
“What’s going on?” she cried. “Who are you?”
“That’s hard to explain.”
“How do you know my name? Did my parents send you?”
“No. They don’t know anything about this.”
“Then what’s going on? What happened to those people back there? They just … disintegrated.”
“There are things in this world that are hard to understand, Jenna. And I can’t give you an explanation that’ll make a lot of sense to you. Not like this. So right now you’ll just have to trust me.”
“Trust you? I don’t even know you. You’re just some gross old man!”
She seemed more alert now, which might have had something to do with the speed of the car and the wind rushing through her hair.
“Pull over,” she said. “Let me out of this thing.”
“I can’t do that, Jenna.”
“Pull over! Or I swear to God I’ll-”
Suddenly they heard shouts and the revving of engines as two cars pulled up on either side of them, packed with drudges from the dance club. One of the drudges scrambled out of the back passenger window and sprang onto the trunk of the Buick.
Jenna screamed, and another one leapt from the car on Michael’s side, diving into the Buick’s backseat. Pulling himself upright, he wrapped his hands around Michael’s throat.
As Michael struggled to breathe, the first one went for Jenna.
Grabbing his Roman, Michael swung out, slicing him across the face, and a shower of dust blew back and away, disappearing into the sky.
Jenna screamed again.
Then the second one tightened his grip, and Michael’s vision narrowed. It was a miracle he was even able to drive. Fumbling the Roman, he grasped for it and missed, and it tumbled into the backseat. He tried to grab hold of his Glock, but he fumbled it, too.
He grasped Jenna’s arm. “My gun,” he croaked. “Find my gun…”
Jenna’s face was pale with panic. Her eyes wild.
“Do it!” Michael croaked. He hammered a fist at the drudge’s head, but the guy didn’t let up.
His vision was almost gone, the street in front of him a dark blur. He felt Jenna moving around beside him, but had no idea what she was up to. Then, just as he was about to black out, Jenna screamed again, a shot rang out-
– and the pressure on his neck disappeared, the drudge disintegrating behind him, sending a swirl of black dust into the air.
As Michael’s eyes came back into focus, Jenna dropped the gun to the seat as if it were contaminated, and started to tremble, tears springing into her eyes.
Throwing his arm across her, he told her to hold on, then jerked the wheel, taking them into a hard right turn down a side street. The other cars faltered only slightly, then regained speed, once again pulling up alongside the Buick.
Then the driver on the left side jerked his wheel hard and slammed into the side of the Buick. The jolt hammered through Michael but he didn’t slow down.
The car slammed into the Buick a second time with brutal force, the impact knocking Michael’s hands off the wheel.
The Buick careened toward the sidewalk but was cut short by a row of parked cars. Metal screamed as they came to an abrupt, jarring stop, pitching Michael forward. His face hit the wheel, pain rocketing through him as blood burst from his nose and the world started spinning around him.
Suddenly there were drudges swarming all over the Buick, and Jenna screamed as hands grabbed at her, ripping her seat belt free and pulling her out of the front seat.
Dazed, Michael lifted his head, his vision blurred, as another car pulled up alongside them.
A black limousine.
The rear passenger window rolled down and Beelzebub signaled to the drudges. “Bring her to me.”
Jenna struggled as the drudges dragged her over to the limo. “Let go of me!”
As she got close to the window, however, Beelzebub reached out and took her hand. A gesture that calmed her a bit.
“It’s all right, my angel. I won’t let him hurt you.”
“Who are you people? What do you want from me?”
“We have time enough to talk about that. But first we need to get you somewhere safe.”
Michael tried to move, but his legs were pinned under the dash. “Leave her alone.”
Beelzebub ignored him. “What do you say, Jenna? Would you like to come back home with me? You’ll be safe there. Not a thing to fret about.”