Bike Week Blues (26 page)

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.

* * *

“
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?