Death Springs Eternal: The Rift Book III (38 page)

His pulse slowed and he was able to think clearly.
Get help. Find a doctor.
He nodded, stepped past the old woman, and knelt before his very pregnant redheaded lover.

“Kyra?” he whispered.

Her green eyes fluttered open.

“What?” she said, her voice sounding raspy and irritated.

“I’m gonna get help now, ‘
kay
?”

Her hand fell on his wrist,
then
worked its way up his arm and over his shoulder. She grabbed a handful of his too-long hair and yanked it.
Hard.

“
Why’re
you telling me about it?” she asked through clenched teeth. “Just fucking
go
already.”

Without saying a word, Josh eased his hair from her grip and backed away, head down. He caught a glimpse of Jessica on his way out the door. The younger woman’s hand covered her mouth as she laughed.

“Yeah really fucking funny,” Josh muttered.

Jessica slapped his ass and grinned. “Just get moving, oblivious guy. It’s just the pain. She probably won’t even remember when you get back.”

“Like hell I won’t!” yelled Kyra.

“See?”

Josh rolled his eyes and walked out the door. “Nice.
Real nice.”

“Just hurry up.”

“Fine.”

He was halfway down the hall by the time he heard Kyra bellow in pain once more. He picked up his pace, his embarrassment and irritation gone as quickly as it arrived.

He flew down the stairwell fast as he could. Once he reached the main lobby he came to a skidding halt. The place was almost always empty, the only folks he ever saw being the nice Vietnamese lady who’d checked him in and the Latino housekeepers. Now there were tons of people lingering about, hovering around the lobby, in the doorway, in front of the reception desk. All carried weapons, and all wore fatigues save one. The lone objector was a tall man with a pair of leather riding chaps strapped to his legs and a denim vest draped over a tank top. His long, slicked-back ponytail hung over one shoulder as if it’d been deliberately placed there. He looked ridiculous, especially with his handlebar mustache, but Josh didn’t dare laugh. He recognized him immediately, and couldn’t believe his luck that the cavalry had arrived just when he needed them most.

Josh walked forward, raising his hand to get the guy’s attention. “
Yo
, Pitts!” he shouted. “Man, over here!”

Pitts saw him and approached, his eyes alive but twitchy.

“Surprised you remember my name,” he said.

“Pretty hard not to,” said Josh, sticking out his hand in anticipation of a handshake. “I pretty much lived at a place named the same before all the shit came down.”

Pitts didn’t shake his hand, and appeared as if he was holding back a chuckle. Glancing around him, Josh saw that the soldiers who’d come with him—every single one—were now looking at the two of them.

“Um,” said Josh, trying to ignore both the stares and his growing unease. “I got a problem.”

“What’s that?” asked Pitts.

“We need a doctor.”

“Why? You hurt or something?”

“What? Oh no, not for me.
For my girl.
I think she’s having the baby.”

“That right?”

Josh shrugged. “Think so.”

“Well, why don’t we go see, eh?”

Pitts draped a huge arm over his shoulder and started leading him back toward the stairs. “Got some business to take care of, boys,” he yelled to the soldiers waiting in lobby. “Hold off until I get back.” He then leaned into Josh and whispered, “Don’t turn around, don’t look at them, don’t even nod,” into his ear.

Josh did as he was told. A sudden rush of fear made him stop breathing.

Once they were in the safe confines of the stairwell, Pitts shoved away from him and gestured for Josh to walk up the steps. He stayed by his side, grunting with each footfall. Josh wanted to say something, to ask what was wrong, but held his tongue.

They were at the first floor by the time Pitts opened his mouth to speak. “You almost ruined everything,” he muttered. “You
shoulda
’ stayed upstairs.”

“I’m confused,” said Josh.

Pitts shook his head.
“Can’t be mad at you.
No way you
coulda
’ known.”

“Um, okay.”

The stairs rounded the other way and they kept on walking. Pitts fell back, allowing Josh to guide him through the second level access door. From there it was a straight line to their room. Josh cocked his head, listening for Kyra’s howls, but all was quiet.

Josh ambled into the room to find Kyra at the table in the kitchenette, sipping a cup of coffee. Jessica sat across from her. It looked like the two of them were in the middle of gossipy lady-talk, what with the way they flipped their hair to the side and grinned at each other. Emily was nowhere to be seen.

Pitts stepped forward. “I thought there was a problem?” he said, looking perplexed.

“I think I’m in between right now,” said Kyra. She appeared downright chipper, and her rosy, freckled cheeks glowed in the overhead light. Then her expression soured, her bottom lip jutting out and her nostrils flaring. Quick as a cat, Jessica leapt from her chair and circled the table, kneeling beside her friend and rubbing her back.

“Okay then,” said Pitts.

Josh watched as the large man wandered away from him, snatched the radio from his belt, and spoke into it. “Send up Vincent and
Cartman
,” he said. A voice on the other end squawked in reply. “No,” Pitts growled, his tone commanding.
“Just those two for now.”

With that he re-sheathed the radio, made his way back over to Josh, and watched as Jessica worked to ease Kyra’s pain. They stayed like that for at least five minutes—Josh uncertain what to do, Pitts looking like he had everything under control—until footsteps pounded down the hall.

“Okay,” said Pitts, “time for the show.”

Josh’s vision exploded with bright stars, followed by panicked screeching from the two ladies. He toppled over, clutching at the side of his face. Pain surged down from ear to jaw, and when he opened his mouth he heard a click, followed by another burst of pain, as if it’d been dislocated. “What the
fuck
…” he began.

“Shut up and don’t move.”

Though everything in him wanted to fight back, Josh did as he was told. Even with his throbbing head, he recognized something odd about Pitts’s tone.
Something almost trustworthy.
Almost.

He hoped he wasn’t grasping at straws.

Two soldiers rushed into the room, weapons drawn. Josh curled into a ball and turned away from them. Jessica and Kyra continued to cry out in protest. Their horrified, high-pitched rambling filled his head.

“Is that him?” one of the soldiers asked.

Pitts answered.
“Yup.
But he’s mine. You guys get these two outta here.”

“Both going to the stables?” asked the other one.

“Nope.
The brunette’s going, but the redhead’s the general’s. Get her to Morales’s girls, have her prettied up, and get…who’s in charge of the University crew now?”

“
Fredricks
.
Or maybe
Jackson
.”

“Uh-uh, fuck that. Get in touch with
Fredricks
,
have him find her a doctor. I think she’s in labor.”

“You don’t want us to do that first?”

“
Negatory
, shit-for-brains.
Bathgate wants to see her as soon as he can. You gonna make him wait?”

No answer from the peanut gallery that time.

Jessica and Kyra had calmed down by then, their disapproval made known by grunts and whimpers. Josh chanced to arch his neck, and he spotted them, arms around each other, huddling against the far wall as if they could use their asses to bust it down and flee. Kyra’s eyes darted from one side of the room to another, until they fell on his prone form. Josh raised an eyebrow and tried to nod without moving too much. That seemed to calm her down a bit. Her shoulders relaxed, her lips parted, and she took a deep breath.

Josh rolled back over.

After an argument and a bit of a struggle—mostly from Jessica—the soldiers left the room, Jessica and Kyra in tow. Josh heard Pitts yell after them. “The other women should be in the
rec
room, along with the kids. Yeah, I know, I know. But as they say, everyone can be sold for
something.
Get Johnson to handle that. I’ll be down in fifteen.”

With that he closed the door, and Josh and Pitts were alone.

“Get up,” the man ordered.

Josh complied, planting one shaky leg beneath him. When he was standing, Pitts shook his head, took out his sidearm, and charged forward, screaming. Josh yelped and threw his arms over his face, thinking this was it, but nothing struck him. Instead Pitts flew by him and slammed the butt of the pistol into the wall over and over again, screaming, “How’s
that
you fuck!” the whole time.

Beads of sweat dripped off the man’s chin, made the corners of his handlebar mustache shimmer. After five good whacks he stepped back, panting, and shoved the gun back in its holster. The armpits of his denim vest were drenched.

“What…the fuck…” said Josh.

“Long story,” the man replied, shaking his head. He then turned around, opened the door a crack, and peered out. “Okay,” he said, looking back in Josh’s direction. “They’re busy with the others. Let’s go.”

Pitts slithered out the door without making a sound, a feat that seemed nearly impossible given his size. Josh followed him, tiptoeing around the corner and down an adjacent hallway. Screams and pleas for mercy came from behind them.

“What the hell’s going on?” asked Josh.

Pitts wheeled around. “Shut
up!
” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, at the door marked
STAIRS
, and put a finger to his lips.

Once in the stairwell, with the door shut firmly behind them, Pitts finally spoke. “Listen, kid, sorry for thumping you back there. Had to make it seem real,
y’know
?”

Josh grunted, massaging his sore jaw. “No, I don’t.”

“Shit’s just been real fucked up lately,” Pitts continued as if he hadn’t heard Josh speak. “A
lotta
shit happening I ain’t down with. What with Bathgate going all gaga over your lady to handing over the blacks to Handley to
Jackson
’s fucking meat market tomorrow night, I just don’t think I can take it no more.”

Josh’s mind reeled, the sore spot between his eyes pounding. He grabbed Pitts by the vest pocket and tugged. The larger man, seemingly taken aback by the act of physical confrontation, actually stopped moving.

“Please, just stop,” Josh pleaded. “What’s this
gotta
do with me?
With
us
?”

Pitts dropped a large hand on his shoulder. “You know why I was sent to that room?” he asked.

“Of
course
not.
Duh.”