Children of the Knight (46 page)

Lance opened the Internet and used the satellite map app to locate their position. It seemed to take
forever
as the sound of sirens echoed all around them, and the up and down pounding motion of Llamrei’s galloping strides gave Lance the beginnings of a splitting headache.

Finally
, their location appeared on the screen, and he studied it as best he could with his head bobbing up and down. “Not good, Arthur. We’re coming up to a dead end, and after that’s the river!”

“Be it possible, ye think, to jump the river?” Arthur called out, very serious.

Lance’s mouth fell open, his heart in his throat. “No way, Arthur, not less Llamrei can fly!”

Arthur was running out of options. “What else doth ye find?”

“There’s railroad tracks right before the river,” Lance shouted back, an idea forming in his mind. “Hey, Arthur, they got big-ass train cars out there! We could hide in one a them!”

Arthur nodded. It would have to do. They had no other choice.

Lance slipped the phone back into his pocket and clutched Arthur tightly with both arms. Just in time too. As they reached Mission Street, he spotted a huge steel factory just on the other side and more police cars plowing down Mission to cut him off.

Arthur had to make a split-second decision. “Hang on, Lance!” he called out.

Before Lance could even respond, Llamrei was airborne, soaring upward with a thrust of her powerful legs. As Lance looked down he saw her left rear hoof crack the flashing red light of a police car passing directly beneath them. Then they were down, off the road, and into the steel company parking lot. The police car they’d jumped slammed on its brakes and ended up colliding with the oncoming cars from Third Street in a crescendo of crunching metal and screeching tires.

Arthur glanced back, relieved that they’d bought a few precious seconds while the police untangled themselves.

“What now, Arthur?” called Lance.

“Into that building!” Arthur yelled, pointing to a massive warehouse looming ahead. The truck doors were open, and Arthur easily navigated Llamrei through them. They found themselves within a large, machine-filled warehouse with towering shelves for finished products and massive machines for grinding, cutting, and welding of steel. It was near closing time, so most of the workers had gone home. The one man they encountered gaped in astonishment as the white horse carrying two riders galloped frantically past his workspace.

Exiting the back of the building, Arthur spotted the railroad tracks just ahead and an idle freight train comprised of many cars. But what caught him completely off guard was the man standing in front of an open boxcar waving frenetically to him.

Knowing his choices were limited, Arthur galloped toward the gesticulating man and pulled in Llamrei’s reins. There was a ramp leading up into the boxcar, and the man was gesturing wildly for them to go up. “Hurry, man, ’fore the cops see you!” And he winked.

Arthur grinned and gave a slight bow before trotting the frothing horse up into the boxcar and into the cool shadows within. Instantly, the ramp was pulled up, and the heavy sliding door slammed shut.

Within the silence of the boxcar, Llamrei’s heavy rasping was the only sound. Arthur and Lance looked soberly at one another, and Arthur patted the trembling boy on one shoulder. Then he lovingly stroked Llamrei’s neck, feeling the sweat and her uneven breathing, calming the animal with his touch. Then they heard voices outside and lots of feet tromping on the dirt around the railroad track.

“Did you see a guy on horseback?” a voice asked.

“Sure as hell did,” the trainman replied. “Damnedest thing I ever saw. Imagine that, a—”

“Which way did they go?” the first voice interjected.

“Up that way,” the trainman replied. “Toward Myers. Say, what’s goin’ on, officer?”

Arthur and Lance had no idea what “Myers” was, but the cops seemed to know because the heavy footsteps pounded off, and stillness returned. Arthur and Lance exchanged another look. The boy’s shadowed face reflected the dread gripping his heart, and Arthur grinned to reassure him.

In a few moments the heavy wooden door slid back and the trainman’s swarthy face appeared. He grinned, showing a front tooth missing. “Sent ’em north. You guys better head south and lay low somewheres.”

He lowered the ramp and stepped back to watch Llamrei trot down to the dirt ground outside.

Arthur and Lance both gazed in wonder at their savior, baffled as to why he’d helped. “Ye have my gratitude, sir,” Arthur told him with great deference. “We doth be in thy debt.”

The man waved the thanks away. “No, I’m in yours, King Arthur. I seen you on TV and what youse gonna do, and I’m all for it.”

Arthur nodded and smiled. “Thank you.”

The man grinned and reached up to grab Lance’s hand. “And I wanna shake your hand, Sir Lance, cuz what you said near cut my heart out. What a great kid ya got there, Arthur.”

He released Lance’s hand just in time for the boy to blush with embarrassment and drop his gaze.

“He be the greatest I have ever known,” Arthur confirmed, flicking a pride-filled look back at Lance, who smiled bashfully and nodded his thanks. Arthur turned back to the trainman. “Your name doth be?”

“Walter Mills, at your service, King Arthur. You ever need use of a train, my friend, just look me up.” He grinned a moment and then glanced back nervously over his shoulder. “You best skedaddle. They might come back.”

Arthur nodded. “Good night, Master Walter.” He turned Llamrei and trotted around behind the railroad cars to walk along the river side of the tracks, just in case more police came snooping around. As soon as they could find a way down into the riverbed, they’d be into the storm drains and safe.

“’Night, fellas,” the trainman called and hurriedly closed up the boxcar for the night.

T
HE
setting sun bathed Esteban’s neighborhood in shimmering auras of red and gold as Ryan and Gibson stood in the middle of the street near the building with the mural. Behind them, billowing clouds of smoke from the flaming police cars still reached skyward to clutch futilely at the vanishing sun. Both men gazed around the area in shock. The local residents, having calmed down after Arthur’s escape, now stood with them.

“
This
is what they did all day?” Gibson exclaimed, unable to believe his eyes.

“
Sí
,” said a young woman clutching her two children to her side. Everyone else just nodded, including the elderly
abuelita
with the rolling pin.

Ryan looked around the neighborhood, a look of disgust on his face as he turned to Gibson. “Shit!” he cursed, swigging again from his bottle of antacid. He glanced once more at the renovated homes and businesses and the energized people, and simply couldn’t believe his eyes. Who the hell
was
this Arthur guy anyway?

C
ITY
H
ALL
was one of the most famous buildings in Los Angeles, seen in practically every movie and TV show set in LA since the 1950s, and still retained its distinction as the tallest base-isolated structure in the world. An imposing edifice, its art deco styling and impressive thirty-two-story tower and Romanesque archways made it almost like going to a movie set for anyone ascending the massive flight of steps and entering the historic landmark. It served as home base to the mayor of Los Angeles and the Los Angeles City Council.

As city lights twinkled all around the building, Mayor Villagrana and Police Chief Murphy sat in the mayor’s lavishly appointed office in front of a large, flat-screen TV, everything in the office having been purchased at taxpayer expense, of course. They watched with irritation as Helen Schaeffer spun the pizza parlor standoff with gusto on
Channel 7 News
.

Villagrana was in his second term, a career politician who’d actually begun his career in San Francisco, and had become memorable primarily for his frequent photo ops and expensive travel extravaganzas, at taxpayer expense, naturally. Middle-aged, of Mexican descent, handsome, and photogenic, Villagrana had not done anything substantive for the residents of LA during his six years other than raise water rates and trash collection fees. Fortunately for the feckless politician, there had been no major disasters or calamities to shake up his tenure in office.