“Did you kill my son?” Buddy Lee asked Andy. The stars had finally retreated and his vision had cleared. Andy had moved the gun out of his face. Instead it was hanging loosely by his leg.
“Shut up,” Andy said.
“Who sent you?” Buddy Lee wheezed. He hadn’t exerted himself like that in a long time. His heart felt sluggish in his chest. The back of his throat was so dry he thought if he coughed now gravel would pop out and clatter across the floor.
“Shut the fuck up,” Andy said.
Oscar came to a door on the left side of the hall that was partly ajar. It was narrower than the other three doors he had already passed. This had to be the bathroom. Was someone hiding in the tub with a shotgun? He’d seen that in a movie once. The good guy had shot one of the bad guys when he was taking a piss. Oscar used two fingers and pushed the door open all the way. It was indeed the bathroom. A blue ambient light in the ceiling gave the room a ghostly glow. The blue light was built into the exhaust fan. The bathroom had a shower stall, a sink, and a pale-blue toilet. Or was that the effect of the blue LED light. Oscar frowned. The top of the toilet tank was missing. He heard the reservoir filling with water. Like someone had just flushed it. Oscar backed up into the hall. He heard glass crunching beneath his feet. He raised his head and squinted. There had once been a light fixture in the ceiling. One of those fancy pendant jobs. Now there was just a thin metal tube hanging down. Like someone had smashed it—
Oscar spun around just in time for Ike to shatter the top of the toilet tank over his head.
* * *
“You gonna wish you had killed me, boy,” Buddy Lee rasped.
“You keep talking that shit like you somebody I ought to be afraid of. You ain’t nothing but an old drunk that needs to shut his fucking mouth. Yeah, I can smell it coming off you. Just like my dad,” Andy said. Buddy Lee heard the bravado in his voice and the uncertainty that was hiding just beneath the surface. A minute after Oscar had ventured down the darkened hall, the whole house shook. Something had hit the floor like a slab of granite.
Andy took an unconscious step toward the hall with his gun raised. Buddy Lee was on his knees when the kid stepped toward the hallway. Quick as a wink he dropped to his ass and used both feet to kick the kid in the side of his right knee. He thought he heard a snapping sound. Andy screamed and fell backward and to the left. When he hit the ground, the big pistol jumped out of his hand like the Gingerbread Man making a break for it. Andy clutched at his knee for the briefest of seconds before realizing he had lost his gun. He rolled onto his left side and stretched out his right hand for the Colt.
Ike came out of the shadows like the spirit of Nemesis in the flesh. He stomped on Andy’s right hand, and Buddy Lee was positive he heard a crack that time. Andy screamed again as Ike picked him up off the ground by his shirt. Once he had him on his feet, Ike hit him with a ferocious uppercut. The younger man was lifted at least three inches into the air. He landed in a heap under the wall-mounted television. Ike glared at him for a moment before picking up the Colt and tucking it into his waistband. He went to Buddy Lee and retrieved his jackknife from his back pocket. Ike cut him loose, then helped him to his feet.
“Glad you decided to join the party,” Buddy Lee said.
“When I heard the commotion, I figured I’d hang back a minute. Sounded like more than one guy, so I tipped over the dresser to get their attention. Force them to split up. Besides, I figured you could handle yourself. No use losing the element of surprise,” Ike said.
“Well, I’m glad you had all this confidence in me. But tell me this: What was you gonna do if they had blown my goddamn head off?” Buddy Lee asked.
“They didn’t, so we don’t have to find out,” Ike said. Buddy Lee shook his head. He looked down at the crumpled form of the skinny kid.
“I told you you should’ve fucking killed me,” Buddy Lee said.
“Did you really say that?” Ike asked.
Buddy Lee nodded. “I meant it, too.”
FOURTEEN
Andy’s eyelids fluttered. He had promised to make them bleed for the Breed. The tables, however, had been turned. He was bleeding, and it didn’t seem like he was going to be allowed to stop anytime soon. He tried to raise his head but it felt like it was full of bricks.
Buddy Lee slapped the kid as hard as he could. He followed that up with a one-two combo to his ribs. He took a step back and leaned forward with his hands on his knees. A glob of sputum worked its way out of his lungs. He closed his mouth and walked over to the trash can near the second roll-up door in Ike’s warehouse. He spit it into the small brown wastebasket. He didn’t have to look at it to know it would have more of the faint red spots mixed in it.