Riders In The Sky Part 21

From a table in the middle of the room, a fat man in a rumpled suit complained about the sun, why couldn't someone pull a curtain or a shade, he could barely see his food.

"Listen," Lisse said, thickening her bayou accent, using her hands, "you think that's something? I worked at this hotel, the Royal Cajun, near the Mississippi, in New Orleans? You ever been there? No? Too bad, you ought to go, it's like no place you ever seen in your life. Anyway, we had this guy used to come in once in a while, he weren't much taller than a good spit, he used to talk to the river."

"Yeah, right," Cora said. "So what?"

"So what? Honey, the river talked back. Told him what to order, what to wear, told him once that he should go into a casino and bet everything he had on number four."

Reed, his mouth filled with turkey, giggled. "Did he?"

"d.a.m.n right. Bought the hotel, made me manager, told John there he didn't pay his bill, his a.s.s'd be on the street before he took another breath."

They looked at him.

John nodded solemnly and crossed his heart. "True. All true."

"So ..." Cora frowned. "So what did you do?"

John snapped his napkin open, draped it over his lap. "What could I do? I married him. h.e.l.l, he was rich, right? You can do stuff like that in New Orleans, they don't care. That made me her boss, so I fired her a.s.s when she wouldn't bring me breakfast in bed."

Reed choked, Cora coughed into a laugh, and he saw in the distance what looked like flags and banners moving along the highway. The march, he thought; I'll be darned, they're really doing it.

"There was this guy once. In Kentucky? He wanted to make me a hooker. Said I'd make lots of money. Reed said go ahead, he was tired of begging."

"I did not."

Lisse reached over and covered Cora's hand. "Did you kill him, sugar?"

"Kicked him in the b.a.l.l.s."

Lisse nodded her approval. "Good choice, dear. Men are like that, you know. You hit him in the head, he wouldn't feel a thing."

"Hey," Reed protested, and Lisse rapped a spoon against his skull.

John could see the marchers, a hundred of them, maybe more. He couldn't hear what they sang or chanted, could only see them from the chest up because of the hedge. They seemed to be having a pretty good time. The parking lot cops were gone, joining a score or more others he could see who were lined up on the shoulder. They didn't appear very concerned. A couple of the children spotted them and clamored to go outside to see the parade.

The fat man complained again, louder, telling his waiter that he didn't much appreciate eating in a fish bowl.

"He was my favorite customer," Lisse said, nodding at John. "I knew he was kind of sweet on me because he kept tipping me half the stupid bill."

"You did?" Cora said.

John nodded. It was true. Almost, anyway.

"Took me on a picnic on a ferry boat. One that goes across the Mississippi, down by the hotel."

That was true, too.

Lisse sat straight, fluffed her hair. "Defended my honor when a sc.u.mbag from h.e.l.l tried to deflower me."

"Tried to what?" Reed said.

"Wow," Cora said. "Kind of romantic, huh?"

Another truth, but not all of it. Not by half.

"Hey, come on," Reed protested, "I helped you out a lot of times."

Cora blushed fiercely, suddenly, and became fascinated with the slice of pie the waiter slid in front of her. Her cheeks fairly glowed.

They're in love, John decided; they're in love, but they're afraid. He didn't blame them.

The marchers, evidently confined to a single highway lane, began to pa.s.s the hotel. Several children pressed against the restaurant wall to watch, calling to their parents, who called them back to their tables to eat their dessert and stop making a scene.

Lisse looked over her shoulder, watched for a few seconds, and looked back with a disinterested shrug, then grimaced when the fat man demanded to see the manager. John made a face that made her smile; Cora and Reed suggested several things the fat man could do to take care of the sun, none of them even remotely physically possible.

A young boy appeared at John's side, fair hair slicked back, clip-on tie decorated with tiny s.p.a.cemen and a few drops of gravy. "Mister?" he said. "Mister, can I have your grapes?" and he pointed to the table's centerpiece.

"Edward Pearl," the woman at the next table scolded, "you get right back here, young man. Now, hear? And stop bothering the nice man."

"But Momma-"

John plucked a few grapes from their stem and handed them over. "Better git, Eddie," he said in a low, man-to-man voice. "Your mother's a little mad."

The boy took them quickly, stuffed them in his mouth as he hustled back to his table.

"I'm sorry," the woman said as she gave the boy a halfhearted swat on the rump.

"No problem," he told her. And almost said, I know how it is, I have a son of my own.

It was an effort to look away; it was an effort to pick up his fork and cut himself a piece of pie; it was an effort not to dress Eddie Pearl in a cowboy suit.

"John?"

He didn't look up; he didn't dare; he was afraid the bright sun would put a tear in his eye.

"John."

He waved his left hand-I'm okay.

"You know," Reed said, "there was this woman, I forget where, Carolina or something, she-"

"Oh, please," Cora said. "She was drunk, okay?"

"She was not. She liked me." He looked to Lisse to plead his case. "We were in this little town-"

He stopped when one of the kids called to her parents across the room at the top of her shrill voice, flapping her arms excitedly, telling them to come look at the other parade. Edward Pearl immediately climbed up on his chair and pointed confirmation, neatly swiveling a hip away from his grasping mother. The commotion instantly sent the other children running to the side wall, pressing against the gla.s.s, waving and shouting.

John half rose to see what all the fuss was about, but Reed beat him to it when he said, "Holy s.h.i.+t."

Crows, John thought; oh my G.o.d, it's the crows.

crows in a flock, bright blue eyes, tearing out the throat of his- He blinked, rubbed his eyes hard and blinked again.

"d.a.m.n," he whispered.

It wasn't the crows at all.

A dozen people, maybe more, wearing dirt-smeared black dusters and stiff cowboy hats, bright blue bandannas tied across their faces, only their eyes exposed, running full speed toward the hedge wall in front, spreading out quickly and expertly, their backs to the hotel.

Ten paces away they reached into their coats and pulled out shotguns and rifles.

"Lisse;" John said.

The fat man rose and slammed his napkin onto his table. "*I have had just about enough of this," he bellowed. *"Where the h.e.l.l is the manager?"

The first shot turned a handful of the police around, and a flagbearer dropped below the level of the hedge, screaming, but not before John saw her spitting blood.

There was no single second shot; it was a fusillade, from both sides.

One of the black-coated raiders turned sideways as he ran, ignored the march, and aimed at the hotel.

When the first bullet shattered the gla.s.s wall near the top, John grabbed Cora's arm and yanked her from her chair, yelled to Lisse and Reed, and spun around, intending to make a run for the lobby. At the same time, the other customers panicked, parents racing for their children, others for the exit.

The wall exploded inward in half a dozen places.

A waiter went hard to his knees, fumbling at a spear of gla.s.s embedded in his side; more shards brought a woman down, draping her facedown across a table, the gla.s.s sparkling in her back; the children scattered, shrieking, screaming, stumbling over upended tables and toppled chairs, while hands frantically grabbed for their arms; at the back of the room another waiter slumped against the salad bar, gleaming red hands clasped across his stomach; the fat man plowed through tables and chairs toward the exit, still bellowing, kicking aside a crawling man, stepping over another.

The screams inside matched the screams outside.

John saw two men fall near the exit, knew he'd never make it, and threw Cora to the floor behind a long serving table, tipped it onto its side, and dropped beside her with a heavy arm across her back. He couldn't see anything now, not without lifting his head, not without taking his arm away as Cora lay there, shrieking, kicking her legs.

Pitchers and vases exploded, knives and forks danced and spun, a light fixture in the ceiling flared and threw sparks, and there were sirens inside and out, blaring above the explosions, above the gunshots, above the screaming.

He looked to his left, over Cora's head, and saw Eddie Pearl's mother sprawled on her back, arms outstretched, one hand clutching a napkin, nothing left of her face; and next to her he saw the boy, staring at the ceiling, legs twitching, a gaping hole in his throat and blood drowning his clip-on tie; he looked to his right and saw a little girl hobbling as fast as she could into the lobby, one shoe off, her white sock bright pink, while behind her a heavyset man tried desperately to scoop her up with one arm, the other hanging dead at his side.

He couldn't find Lisse.

Wood splintered over his head, and he felt needles slam into his back and the backs of his legs.

"Reed!" Cora shouted, and scrambled out from under his arm and to her knees, trying to see over the table, a cut on her cheek running red to her jaw.

"Down!" John yelled. "For G.o.d's sake, get down!"

He pulled at her hip, but she shook him off. "Reed! Reed, where are you?"

When he lunged for her and missed, he cursed and grabbed the table's edge, hauled himself up, and squinted through the bright sunlight.

Into silence.

A long, deep, warm silence.

No flags or banners left on the highway; bodies in the parking lot; bodies in the restaurant.

When the moans began, he thought he'd go deaf; when the crying began, he staggered to his feet and stumbled across the floor, not caring about the wounded, not looking at the dead.

"Lisse," he said. "Lisse?"

Cora screamed.

He whirled, nearly fell over, and saw Lisse standing dazed just inside the lobby, the sleeve of her dress torn at the elbow, her hair falling disheveled over her eyes. Swaying. Someone's blood fresh on her shoulder and the side of her neck. Calling to him without speaking, pointing mutely at the body that lay at her feet.

"Reed!" Cora screamed, and began to run. "Reed!"

3.

1.

M.

oonbow Levin was supremely unhappy.

First, she had, a year or so ago, lost her best friend in the whole world. She had been his princess, her mother was going to be his queen, and they were going to live in a seriously large castle someplace that wasn't anywhere near the desert, and he would fight dragons and demons every night just for her.

Then she had lost her home in the desert, because she and her family had to run away from things she still wasn't quite sure she really understood. Only that it cost her the best friend she'd ever had.