Page 86 of Bad Moon Rising

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Bodhi gasped, “Where…can we go?”

“The hills.” I heard a yell behind and knew Moon and his men caught sight of us. The moon looked luminous, and the blustery, increasing winds moved clouds to cover and then expose it.

I pushed us harder, finally putting Troy’s good arm across my shoulder and grasping his belt on the opposite side so I could carry most of his weight. Clouds obscured the night’s full moon and the darkness deepened.

A red tracer zipped by us and disappeared in the black mass of looming hills ahead of us. They were guessing, but I knew that when the moon reappeared, they could see us.

I felt the slight change in elevation as we scrambled up the slope of the first hill. Brittle, dry brush audibly cracked as we pushed through it on our climb.

Troy groaned, “Oh god, this is killing me. I can’t climb any more.”

“We’re going over these low hills, then into the canyon. It’ll be easier going down.” I readjusted his arm on my shoulder, grabbed his belt again on the offside and leaned sideways at the hip to help lift him. The canyon bottom would be darker and easier for us to hide in than out here in the open. If they wanted to catch us, they would have to put out some major effort. I knew about a narrow pathway on the canyon floor, called The Tree of Life Trail, and if we could reach it, we’d be able to move faster while they descended down the rougher sides.

As we reached the top of the small hill, I glanced back in time to see all three men raise cell phones and click on the flashlights. We kept far enough ahead of them that the weak beams didn’t fully show us, but in such dim light they definitely saw movement. One of the big men said, “There!”

Several tracers passed over our heads and dropped in a long red arc into the dark canyon below. I didn’t waste any time and started down with Troy in tow and Bodhi breathing hard, but keeping up with me. My legs burned from the lactic acid buildup and had no strength. They quivered with every step, and descending the steep canyon walls didn’t make it easier. I gasped for air and shook my head to throw off the salty sweat that dripped into my eyes and off my nose.

Wind whipped harder, and the clouds seemed to be ripping apart. The lower we descended, the stronger the gusts became. Bodhi stumbled and slid down twenty feet before catching a sapling. I moved beside her, “You okay?”

She said, “Uh-huh.” I noticed her palms bled, but she shrugged it off and said, “I’m ready.”

Several tracers hit within twenty feet of us, but none closer. We passed one bullet on the ground, and the base glowed like the lit end of a cigarette.

Several minutes passed before I staggered onto the Tree of Life Trail and put Troy down. My heart pounded as it attempted to push more blood through me, and I drew large breaths so fast I felt light-headed. Bodhi lay on the trail near Troy.

The increasing wind gusted so strongly that I had to lean into it to stand. Moon and his men made noises descending the mountainside, and at first the darkness shielded them. Then a gust of wind moved the clouds away and bathed the canyon in light.

We saw each other at the same time. They stood on a low ridge a hundred yards uphill, but I saw Moon point at us and say something to his men. They lifted their Uzis and I said, “Hide!” I grasped Troy’s collar and pulled him toward the shelter of trees and heavy brush on the far side of the trail. Bodhi helped me or we might not have made it. We pushed through the dead brush and crawled under a small oak as tracers rained down on us like red hail.

The barrage seemed to go on for a long time, and that’s when I remembered they used extended magazines, which held 90 rounds. Tracers sprayed around us, going in the brush, some into the tree with a splat when they hit, and others hit rocks and skittered away like a fluttering red cardinal with a bad wing. It let up for a second and I rose, then ducked down as the firing started again. They had more than one magazine.

I said to Bodhi, “Next time they stop, we go.”

She nodded. I looked at Troy, who said, “Okay.”

I told him, “You have to help, Troy. I’m about out of gas.”

He said, “I will.”

We rose to our feet and I caught a whiff of smoke. Hair rose on my neck. A fire starting in this canyon and fueled by these winds and all the dead grass and brush would race through it like a runaway racehorse, burning everything, including us. I glanced around but didn’t see any flames. The firing stopped. I trusted to luck and hurried along the trail. A mile or so ahead towered the north side of Mount Lee. On the south side was the Hollywood sign. I thought we could find some help there, or at least a good hiding place.

I checked our pursuers and saw them coming down at an angle to intersect our path. No more tracers lit the sky, so I assumed they used all their ammo. Now they would have to get closer to use their pistols.

Troy helped for about fifty yards and then gasped, “I can’t go on.”

Bodhi slapped the crap out of him. “Get up! Y

ou’ll stay with us or I’ll slap your head off!”

I almost felt too exhausted to grin, but I did. Troy repositioned his arm on my shoulder and we hurried down the trail. I saw several good hiding places along the slopes where boulders and slabs of stone showed cave-like areas underneath, but Moon and his men were too close now. The trail curved around a hundred-yard bulge in the mountain base and revealed Mount Lee a short distance ahead.

Several gunshots rang out and the bullets hit very close. I glanced over my shoulder and saw them coming, not seventy yards behind.

Behind them, the canyon glowed a deep, ruby red.

Chapter 11

I said to Bodhi, “We have to hurry, there’s fire coming and we have to get out of this canyon.”


Tags: Billy Kring Mystery