Bike Week Blues

by Mary Clay

  I kneeled down and rolled Rich to his back. His face was swollen almost beyond recognition, but his chest rose and fell slowly. “Gawd, what kind of animals are these people?” I gasped.

  Penny Sue was on her feet rubbing her wrists. “Is he all right?”

  “He’s alive, but in bad shape. He needs medical attention right away.”

  Gun aimed at Red, Fran handed me the duct tape. “Hurry, let’s get out of here.”

  Penny Sue snatched the tape from me. “I’ll do it,” she said through clenched teeth. Red was as limp as a rag doll and offered no resistance. Penny Sue bound Red’s wrists and was starting on her ankles when a male voice pierced the night.

  “Red, you worthless junkie!” The guy from the Pub with the spiked collar burst through the palmettos. He shoved Penny Sue backward and kicked Red hard. She didn’t move.

  Fran held the gun on him with shaking hands. I fumbled with the Taser, which I’d carelessly hung from my shoulder.

  In one swift move, Spike reached in his belt, and a switchblade flashed in his hand. “Anyone moves and the old lady gets it.”

  Fran, Ruthie and I froze, uncertain what to do.

  Spike’s beady eyes stared at us unblinking. “I’m good with blades. Granny will have one between the eyes before she gets off a shot. Drop your weapons.”

  Fran and I exchanged a glance and prepared to drop our hardware. Spike sneered with satisfaction.

  And, that’s when things went into slow motion. Out of the blue, Penny Sue lurched like a cat, growling, “Eat shit and die!” She caught Spike around the knees and knocked him into a thicket of scrub. She hopped to her feet like a gymnast and delivered a kick to his groin that must have propelled Spike’s privates halfway to his throat. But, the old boy was tougher than he looked. As she kicked, I saw his right hand flip back, ready to hurl the knife.

  “Duck,” I screamed. Penny Sue lunged over Red, tucked her head, and went into a forward roll. I nailed Spike’s arm with the Taser and the knife dropped harmlessly to the ground. To be safe, I gave him another shot in the groin for good measure, as Fran stepped over Red and snatched the knife.

  Ruthie hurried to help Penny Sue, who’d landed butt up against a big palmetto. Back on her feet, she brushed herself off and said, “Sorry for cussing, Fran, but I haven’t had my black cohosh today, and I’m in a really bad mood.”

  “No problem,” Fran said, holding the tape. “Help me bind this varmint.”

  “My pleasure.” Penny Sue stepped over Red and pushed Spike’s wrists together while Fran wrapped the tape.

  “Move or utter a single sound and you’ll get it in the crotch again,” I said, waving the Taser.

  His eyes narrowed, but Spike didn’t move. A hefty kick and a Taser blast to his family jewels seemed enough for one night. They secured his feet, put a strip of tape over his mouth, and finished binding Red’s ankles. Penny Sue was about to put tape over her mouth, when Ruthie cried, “No!”

  “What?” Penny Sue asked.

  “Red hasn’t moved though all of this commotion. She’s really out of it and not a threat. Besides, if she’s taken pills with vodka, she might vomit. Red could choke to death if her mouth is taped.”

  “You’re right. She’s going to be in enough trouble with Vulture and Spike. Let’s get out of here before anyone else shows up.”

  Penny Sue was still dressed in shorts and a skimpy halter top. “You want my jacket? Aren’t you cold?” I asked.

  “Are you kidding, I’ve finally cooled off.”

  We carefully sat Rich up, then lifted him to his feet. With Penny Sue on one side and me on the other, we put our shoulders under his armpits and clasped our hands around his back. Concerned with speed and not stealth, Fran led the way with the halogen lamp while Ruthie covered the rear with the Taser.

  Although the total distance we had to travel was only a few hundred feet, it might as well have been fifty miles. Rich was a dead weight, and Penny Sue and I had to walk sideways to get him down the narrow path. We stopped several times to catch our breath, but eventually made it. Fran stepped out of the brush and into ankle deep water.

  “Oh no, the tide’s come in!”

  Maybe there’s something to the bumper sticker slogan that menopausal women don’t have hot flashes, they have power surges. The mere sight of the water gave Penny Sue and me a spurt of energy so strong, we literally picked Rich up and carried him to the front buggy. We slid him into the passenger side, while Penny Sue crouched in the small space behind the seat and held him up. I put the key in the ignition, turned on the headlights, and took off with Fran and Ruthie close behind.

  I drove north, as close to the scrub line as I could manage, and we were making good time when an outcropping of rock showed in the headlights directly ahead. We’d skirted it easily before when the tide was lower, but now we’d have to drive into the surf. I stopped and watched the waves hit the rock for several beats. With luck, I could probably time it when the tide pulled back. I watched, waited, then floored the accelerator. The buggy lurched down the slope into about six inches of water. No problem—the tires were big. I hung a left to head back up the hill, but the right tires dug into the soft sand and stopped. The cart teetered as the right side sank. A wave crashed, finishing the job. The buggy rolled over, spilling the three of us into the water. Penny Sue cracked her head on the roll bar, knocking her out. Rich, already unconscious, landed face down in the water and floated out with the tide. Fran and Ruthie abandoned their cart and waded in to help. As I swam after Rich, they dragged Penny Sue up the bank toward their buggy. Before they got there, a wave smashed the cart from the side, sucked the sand out from under the tires, and drew it out to sea. They stood with slack jaws as Saul’s cart, headlights still blazing, slowly went under.

  I didn’t have time to worry about them or the carts, because Rich was a handful. I rolled him on his back, hooked my arm under his chin, and crawled toward shore. If only I weren’t so out of shape, I thought, puffing and blowing for all I was worth. Fortunately, my feet soon found purchase in the sand, and I could drag Rich up the incline. Ruthie rushed to help me, and we laid Rich out next to Penny Sue on the outcropping.

  Drenched and exhausted, the three of us collapsed on the edge of the surf.

  “I think it’s time to call for help,” Fran said, reaching into her pocket. Her phone wasn’t there.

  Ruthie moaned. “Mine was in the cart.”

  I unzipped my bike belt and pulled my cell out. I hit the button, nothing happened. I punched a few keys, then hit the power button again. Zip. “I guess it’s not waterproof.”

  “Now what?” Ruthie asked.

  “We wait. Carl knows our approximate location. As soon as he and the others are finished, they’ll come looking for us.”

  I stood up to check on Penny Sue and Rich. Penny Sue had started to twitch as if she were coming around. Ruthie waded to the other side of the rock and began massaging Penny Sue’s wrists. Rich’s breathing was unusually shallow. Fearing he’d swallowed water, I rolled him to his stomach and smacked his back. He didn’t cough anything up, so I sat down, turned him to his side and put his head on my lap. I could barely stand to look at his battered face. But, at least he was alive.

  We sat in silence for a long time when, suddenly, Fran whispered. “I hear someone splashing through the surf.”

  I looked back toward the tunnels. “Where?”

  “From the north. Listen.”

  I held my breath and strained to hear. There it was—splashing, footsteps in the surf. “It must be one of Vulture’s goons, who else would be out here? What should we do? The Taser’s gone.”

  “So is the derringer.”

  I reached into my pocket. I still had a flashlight.

  “Give it to me,” Fran said.

  “Why, what are you going to do?”

  “I’m the shortest. I’m going to crawl up the beach along the brush line. The guys will never see me. Then, I’m going to jump up, and knock ’em
in the head with the flashlight.”

  I admired her guts, but … “That’s too dangerous.”

  She held her palms up. “What else can we do? We’re sitting ducks with nowhere to hide. If we do nothing, the goon will probably shoot us on sight.” She nodded at Rich. “A person who’d do that wouldn’t hesitate to kill us.”

  I closed my eyes. Fran was right, of course. I let out a long breath. “Be careful.”

  Crouched low, Fran sloshed around the rock and started crawling on all fours. Ruthie and I locked eyes, barely daring to breathe. We could hear splashing, it was getting closer. I thought of Zack, Jr. and Ann and wondered if I’d ever see them again. Had I told my children I loved them the last time we spoke? If I got out of this alive, I’d be sure to tell them every time we talked in the future.

  Suddenly the sloshing stopped and a male voice mumbled, “What the—?”

  To the south, lights flashed and a cacophonous cry tore through the darkness. The Klingons must have landed. Then, to our left, a shrill scream from Frannie, a dull thump, and a big splash. As we strained to make out Frannie May, a shrill whine—like Fourth of July fireworks—streaked across the ocean. A moment later, there was a burst of light that lit up the sky—the Atlas V.

  With the light from the rocket, I searched for Fran. She was hanging on the back of a very tall man. As the rocket rose higher, I made out a wild hairdo—dreadlocks—on the man’s head. Gawd, it was Sidney and Frannie was hanging from his neck, kicking his butt for all she was worth.

  * * *

  Chapter 19

  “Ruthie, that’s Sidney,” I shrieked. “Get Fran off his back!”

  Ruthie disentangled herself from Penny Sue and took off down the beach. Penny Sue’s head hit the rock with a good thump, jarring her awake. She looked at me, trying to focus. “Leigh? Where are we?”

  “Don’t move. You’ve hit your head, you may have a concussion.”

  “Rich?”

  “He’s alive. Don’t worry, Rich’ll be fine.” I wished my confidence matched my words.

  By this time, Ruthie, Fran, and Sidney arrived at the rock. Sidney, rubbing his backside, kept a safe distance from Fran.

  Fran raised her hands. “How was I to know he was FBI?”

  Sidney rolled his eyes. “Do you really think Vulture has blacks in his gang?”

  “I didn’t know what color you were—it was dark, and I only saw your back.” Fran looked at me. “I did what any patriot would do.”

  Sidney waved off her comment, kneeling beside Rich. “Don’t worry, I’m not pressing assault charges. I know you meant well. “How is Rich?” Sidney asked me, pulling out a flashlight and shining it on Rich’s face. “Whoa! They did a number on him, didn’t they?” Sidney reached in his pocket and pulled out a radio. “This is Shorty. I’ve found the Fox and we have a serious medical situation.” He glanced at Penny Sue. “Make that two. We need a chopper with a medical team at these coordinates.”

  Literally a moment later, I heard choppers coming from the south.

  Sidney saw my expression. “That’s not for us. That’s the Cape’s security. Something big went on down there.”

  “Yes, and we know what it was,” I said. “Fran’s son and his friends stopped Vulture from shooting down the Atlas with a Stinger missile. We found an email on Rich’s computer, indicating Vulture was planning to do it.”

  Fran pulled Sidney’s sleeve, and pointed at his radio. “Call someone now, and tell them not to hurt my son. He saved the country. That rocket had a nuclear-powered satellite. If it weren’t for them, we’d all be glowing.” She tugged his sleeve harder, and gave Sidney the look. “Call, tell them not to hurt the Klingons and Navy Seals.”

  Sidney’s eyes narrowed doubtfully, but he pushed the button on the device and spoke. “Shorty here. There may be civilian vigilantes—”

  Fran poked his arm. “Patriots!”

  Sidney gave her a look. “Cancel that. Civilian patriots may be on site. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble identifying them.” He snickered. “Some are Klingons.”

  “Come back, Shorty. I missed the last part,” the voice on the other end said.

  “You got it right. The Klingons and some Navy Seals supposedly thwarted the gang’s attempt to shoot down the Atlas rocket. Use discretion. Over.”

  The guy on the other end laughed hysterically, but finally gasped, “Copy that. Will do.”

  A few minutes later a helicopter with a big spotlight on the front rumbled up from the south. “That would be ours,” Sidney said. He stood up and waved his arms. His radio chirped.

  “Patrick Rescue Wing responding to a general call for aid. What’s your status?”

  “Two severely injured. We need backboards, neck braces, and a quick trip to a trauma center.”

  The helicopter pinpointed us in its spotlight and hovered overhead. “Roger that. We’re sending down two paramedics.” An arm swung from an open door on the side of the helicopter with a basket attached. Within minutes, two men were lowered to our location. They scrambled out of the basket, gave a hand signal, and the basket rose. A few minutes later a stretcher-type contraption was lowered in its place.

  The medics quickly examined Rich and Penny Sue. By then, Penny Sue was fairly lucid, though they insisted she stay still and threatened to sedate her if she didn’t. Sidney positioned himself beside her and kept his large hands on her shoulders, as the medics fastened a neck brace on Rich, lifted him slightly, and slid a backboard beneath. They strapped him to the board, then secured the board to the stretcher. A moment later, Rich rose into the air.

  Penny Sue watched this with a mixture of relief and horror. “I’m afraid of heights; besides, I feel fine.”

  A paramedic hovered over Penny Sue with a flashlight. He turned her head to the side and took note of a massive bruise on her jaw. Whether that was the result of Red’s slug at the Cabbage Patch or something that happened later, I didn’t know. I also noticed, for the first time, that she had a beaut of a shiner. Gawd, what had she been through?

  The medic flashed the light in her eyes several times and shook his head. By then, the stretcher had descended with another backboard, neck brace, and blankets. “Bring me a blanket, I think she’s going into shock.” Seconds later they had her on the backboard, covered in the blanket and on the stretcher.

  “I hate heights,” Penny Sue wailed.

  Ruthie rushed to her side and stroked her forehead. “Say the mantra Om-m, om-m, over and over. That’s the highest vibration of all the mantras, it will protect you.”

  Penny Sue looked up, a tear sliding from the corner of her eye. “Okay, I’ll say it for me and Rich.”

  The medic gave the signal, and Penny Sue started to rise. The higher she went the louder the Om-m’s became until she was safely in the helicopter.

  The basket came down, and the medics prepared to leave. “Wait, where are you taking them? I need to call Penny Sue’s father,” I said, catching the arm of one of the medics.

  “Halifax Trauma Center in Daytona Beach.”

  The basket rose, and we stared at Sidney. “Now what?”

  As the chopper plop-plopped into the distance, Sidney’s tall pal, Frank, and a slew of park rangers swooped in on All Terrain Vehicles. We quickly filled them in on our rescue operation and the fact that we’d left Red and Spike in the palmetto scrub.

  “Tunnels in the scrub?” a burly ranger scoffed. “Impossible, we’d have seen them.”

  “They’re virtually invisible. We had a hard time finding the entrance with GPS,” Ruthie said.

  “If they’re so well hidden, how did you find them in the first place?”

  “Infrared,” Fran replied tersely.

  The ranger shook his head, but motioned for three others to follow him down the beach to search for Red.

  We headed north in the ATVs. A half-hour later, we were standing next to Saul’s truck, which was surrounded by a bunch of cars and jeeps.

  “How did you find us?” I asked
Sidney as he held out his hand for the key to Saul’s truck.

  Fran dropped relinquished it sheepishly. “I have good insurance,” was all she said.

  Sidney smiled at Fran. “I’ll bet you do.” Then to me, “I put a GPS transponder on the truck bumper.” He pointed at a black disc on the back of the truck.

  “When?”

  “When you stalled at the light on Peninsula.”

  “That was you?” Frannie May said. “I thought it was the kid who lives next door.”

  “I’ve been keeping an eye on you since Vulture killed my partner, Sammy.”

  “The guy behind Penny Sue’s car?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry. But, why were you following us?”

  “Rich asked me to. He knew Penny Sue might come looking for him and feared for her safety. He’d also found out you,” he looked at Ruthie and me, “were responsible for Vulture’s brother being jailed on your last visit.”

  Ruthie and I stared at each other. My gawd, it was—we didn’t have to say the name.

  “All Vulture knew was that the snitch was a rich bitch from Georgia who drove a yellow Mercedes. With Penny Sue’s car, it didn’t take much to put two and two together.”

  “Vulture was the person taking shots at Penny Sue’s license plate?”

  “Yeah, he noticed the car when he nailed Sammy. Pure coincidence—same with Penny Sue’s weird encounter with Red. We were watching both you and Red at the Pub that night. We couldn’t believe it when you ran into each other.”

  “Penny Sue thought you were Sidney Poitier’s son.”

  Sidney chuckled. “I wish.” He handed the truck key to Frank.

  “Are we going to jail?” Ruthie asked, her voice shaky.

  “You trespassed and destroyed government property, among other things. I doubt you’ll do hard time if you make restitution,” he said blithely.

  “What does that mean?” Fran snapped anxiously.

  “Pay for the damage.”

  Our Italian friend held up her hands. “No problem, I have good insurance.”