Blue Belle b-3
Page 32
174
I wheeled the Caddy into the junkyard. The gate swung open. Terry jumped in, steered us through.
"Belle?" I asked him.
"Not yet," the kid said, his mouth hard.
The Mole was waiting. "Where's Ramón?" I asked him.
He pointed at the wolf pack. Fighting over what was left.
I lit a smoke. Carried the Prof out of the Caddy, put him on top of an oil drum. I stood with my people.
"Mortay's dead."
"You make sure?" the Prof asked.
"They'll need a microscope for the autopsy. It's over. You blow the basement?" I asked the Mole.
"You didn't hear it?" Terry said.
"No."
"It'll be on the news," the Mole said.
I looked at the Prof. "She was well away. They weren't looking for her. Why didn't she just run?"
His eyes shone in the fire. "Why didn't you?"
I couldn't answer him. Fists clenched so tight my arms ached.
The little man dragged on his smoke. "Her dice, brother. Hers to hold, hers to roll."
175
Tortured rubber screamed on concrete.
"Belle. The back way!" the kid shouted, taking off. We ran to the fence. The Camaro shot through, skidding past us. It stopped where the Prof was sitting. Belle didn't get out.
I ran back to her. Bullet holes stitched the driver's door. I wrenched it open. Belle fell into my arms. The Mole reached past me, unsnapped the seat belt. I carried her to the bunker. "Don't talk," I said, lowering her to the ground.
Her gray sweatshirt was one big dark stain. The Mole cut it away. She was torn to pieces, the blue necklace around her neck. "Get the medical kit," he said to Terry.
I bent close to her. "Hold on, Belle. You'll be okay in just a minute."
Her eyes were closed. They flicked open. "Burke?"
"You're home now, Belle. It's all right."
Her voice was soft. "My race is run, honey. I'm done."
"Shut up! Save your strength."
"Tell me."
"I love you, Belle."
"I'll be waiting for you," she said. Her eyes closed. The Mole shouldered me out of the way, plunged a needle into her chest, his fingers at her neck. I was on my knees, watching him work, begging in my mind.
He turned to me. "She's gone."
176
They left me alone with her then.
I couldn't hold it in me - screaming curses at the night. The dogs went quiet.
I lay down next to her, wrapping her in my arms. Tears on blood.
177
The sky was getting light when they came back. The Mole. Terry. The Prof, riding a wheelchair.
I stood next to the little man, my hand on his shoulder. Felt his hand on mine.
"Pull it together, brother. The way she'd want it. She's with the Lord now. And He's one lucky son of a bitch."
The Mole covered her with a prayer rug.
I gripped my brother's hand, and said goodbye to my Blue Belle.
FB2 document info
Document ID: c432bfd7-8ca4-4e74-bf4e-751c9f707a3b
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 29.5.2012
Created using: calibre 0.8.53, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
Andrew Vachss
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