Six Bad Things_ A Novel - Charlie Huston [41]
I actually hear the sound as I snap.
It sounds good.
Just like a bat hitting a ball.
I step inside Danny’s swing. His forearm hits me in the shoulder and the hammer ends up slamming against my back. I hook him under the ribs, he folds in two. I grab the back of his head and bring my knee up into his face. He turns at the last moment so I don’t break his nose. But I can fix that.
I have his head in the open car door and am ready to slam it on his face when I realize his friends are running into the street. I drop his head, scoop up the hammer from the asphalt, and swing it in a mad arc. They fall back, but stay in a tight group, and I dive at them, shoving the fat guy back into his two skinnier buddies. They stumble, Fat Guy falling on top of Mullet Head, and Ponytail Boy windmilling his arms to keep his balance. I start kicking at the heads of the two on the ground.
—Stop it! Stop it!
I turn, hammer raised. Leslie flinches back. I lower the hammer. Leslie sticks her finger in my face.
—What the fuck are you, some kind of maniac? Ya didn’t have to beat the shit out of ’em, they’re all a bunch of pussies anyway.
The two on the ground are curled into scared little balls, their knees drawn up, hands covering their heads. Ponytail Boy has run off into one of the houses in the cul-de-sac. I throw the hammer into some bushes. Danny is on his ass, leaning against the side of the car, holding his bleeding mouth.
—Danny.
He doesn’t look up. Blood is trickling steadily from his mouth. I think he may have bit through his lip. I squat down in front of him. He looks up at me. His eyes narrow.
—Hey.
His hand comes away from his mouth and he points at me.
—Heeey.
—Get off my car, Danny.
He’s still looking at me, tilting his head, squinting but not moving. I grab his legs and pull. He scoots on his butt to keep from tipping over. I drop his legs and get in the car. Leslie has followed me and squats down next to Danny.
—Stop being a dick to him, can’t ya see he’s hurt?
I close the door and start the car. I can feel a lump growing between my shoulder blades where the hammer tagged me. I shove the stick into first and pull away. In the mirror Danny is still sitting in the street, pointing after me. Leslie has one hand on his head and is giving me the finger with her other one.
I’m almost at the end of the block when a garage door back in the cul-de-sac swings up and Ponytail Boy comes screeching out in a jacked-up black Toyota pickup with monster tires.
Great. Pursuit.
I’VE BEEN lost in these tracts for about ten minutes now and nothing looks familiar. Or rather, everything looks familiar because it all looks exactly the same. Wait a sec. That’s it. That’s the liquor store where I got off the trolley. I stop the car, put it in reverse, and back up to the last intersection. There it is, just up the street. From there I can follow the trolley tracks back toward the I-5.
It only takes a few minutes to reach a major intersection, where I see signs for the highway. I’m almost at the on-ramp when I get a look at the gas gauge. Empty. I pull into the last-chance Shell and kill the engine.
I’ve got about four gallons in the tank when the black Toyota squeals to a stop at the intersection. Danny is in the front, Ponytail Boy behind the wheel, Leslie is squeezed between them, and Fat Guy and Mullet Head are in the back.
A big red Suburban is on the other side of the pumps from me, screening the BMW from the street. I duck down a little so they can’t see me. When the light changes they’ll go right past, and I can sneak out onto the freeway.
Then I see their turn signal flashing.
They’re going to come in here.
The light changes. I pull the hose out, hang it up, and close the tank. Two cars make the turn before the Toyota. I reach into the car and hit the ignition, but stay standing so I can peer through the windows of the Suburban. The Toyota makes the turn and heads for the driveway behind me. I get in the car and ease