Rock Her (11 page)

“Annie,” Kip said urgently, “when I was in the Marines, the
most important thing in combat was to have cover and concealment.”

“I don’t understand, Kip. What is that?” Annie said, shaking
her head in confusion.

Kip moved quickly and pushed her forward as he headed toward
the door.

“It’s something we don’t have right now.”

As they reached the doorway, Kip reached back to grab the door
and pull it shut behind him. As he did, the glass window shattered and the
plaster wall exploded just inches from his face.

Kip slammed the door closed and grabbed Annie’s hand. He pulled
her down the hallway, yelling to the playing children to get into their
apartments and close their curtains. Annie was crying and when she looked at
Kip’s powder covered face she screamed in horror. Kip grabbed her by putting
both hands on her face and held her still. He pushed her up against the hallway
wall.

“What is happening?! Kip, what is going on?” She cried.

“I don’t know, Annie.” Kip look as confused as she did. “I need
to figure this out. Somebody wants either you or me dead. But I can tell you
that we are safe for now. Whoever was shooting was across the street. We are
safe here in the hallway. Please try to calm down. I won’t let anything happen
to you.”

“Kip, who would want us dead?” Annie asked as she wiped the
tears from her face.

Kip froze and held her tight. He looked around the hall as the
children disappeared into their apartments. Their mothers shooing them in and
giving Kip evil looks. As if all of that was his fault.
Hell, it may be
!

“I don’t know Annie, but I intend to find out.” Kip said, and
he left her there against the way as he bolted back to her apartment door. “And
Annie, I mean it, you stay right there.”

Annie nodded quickly. She did not intend to move from that
spot.

“Hero” By Skillet

Kip stopped just outside her door and when he downloaded enough
courage he shouldered through it, breaking it open. Then he dropped and rolled
through the glass and debris until he stopped behind the kitchen counter. From
there he spied around the edge through to the shattered window, surveying the
windows in the building across the street. Most of them were drawn open but
there were a few that had the curtains closed. But in only one of them could
Kip see the curtains moving, being blown by the slight breeze. This told him
that the window was open, but the curtain was pulled. Exactly what he would do
if he wanted a concealed place to shoot from.

Just then a flash between the curtains and the countertop
pinged as a bullet ricocheted off of it. It impacted into the cabinets above
his head.

The shooter was still there.
And a really bad shot.

Kip wished he had his M-16 in his grip.
I could take this clown out in one shot
. And he could. Kip had
qualified expert on the range every year in the Marine Corps. His marksmanship
was legendary. He had been invited to sniper school out of combat training, but
he chose not to go. He wanted to stick with the friends he’d trained with.

It was just a matter of zeroing in on the flash from the last
shot of the assassin across the street.
But
I don’t have my M-16, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do now that I am
pinned down.

Then Kip heard sirens getting louder from the outside. Someone
must have called the police. Suddenly a burst of fire erupted from the window
across the street and wood and glass shattered all around him. He covered his
head as debris rained down upon him as multiple shots were fired at him. Then
the gunshots stopped and Kip peeked around the edge. He saw the barrel of the
rifle jerk to the side, disturbing the curtains, then disappeared.
The shooter is running.

The sirens were so loud, it sounded as if they were right below
the window at the entrance of the building. Knowing he was out of immediate
danger, he jumped to his feet and bolted toward the door. Annie was on the
other side about to go in, despite Kip’s order to stay put. She heard the
gunfire and thought Kip had been shot. The door burst open and knocked Annie
back against the wall.

“Get down against the wall,” Kip yelled. Then he ran down the
three flights of stairs. He threw the doors of the main entrance open and ran
out across the street. Police cars and rescue vehicles were pulling up, and he
dodged them in the road and disappeared into the building across the street.
The building was the mirror image of Annie’s building. He ran up the stairs to
the third floor, knowing that enough time had passed that the shooter was no
doubt on the run.

Kip tried to picture the building from the outside as he tried
to figure out which apartment to invade. Fortunately, the building was not complicated,
and the apartment in question was fairly obvious. As he reached the third floor
a quick look down the hall showed him that the door to the apartment he wanted
was open. He walked quickly, hugging the wall in case the shooter was still
anywhere nearby. When he reached the open doorway, he used his military
training to eyeball the room. He squatted low and made a quick scan into the
doorway. Then he stood high and looked again. He confirmed that the open living
room was empty.

Of course, the shooter could have been hiding in the bathroom
or bedroom. But Kip’s common sense told him that the shooter was on the run.
The police sirens outside would have guaranteed that.

So Kip bolted down the hall. Clearly the fuck hadn’t come down
the main stairs or Kip would have passed him on the way up. He didn’t know the
building but he was sure there had to be a back stairwell at the end of the
hall. And when he arrived there, his assumption was confirmed.

The door was ajar, and Kip nearly forgot all of his training
and burst through it. But at the last second he remembered himself. This was a
classic set up. Leave a clue to follow, and then set an ambush. Kip had handled
situations like this countless times but always with a weapon, his rifle, or a
grenade. He cursed at being empty handed.

Without anything to defend himself, he stepped aside and pushed
open the door. Immediately a burst of automatic weapons fire shattered the wall
opposite him. Kip hunkered down against the wall letting the dust from the
drywall coat him once again. Then the fire stopped and Kip heard footsteps
pounding down the stairwell. Kip jumped to his feet and followed, listening for
the echoing of his quarry’s feet slapping the stairs. If he heard them stop he
would be in dire straits. He was in a closed area with him, and he had nothing
to protect himself. But Kip heard the stairwell access door to the ground floor
open below and the sirens from the emergency vehicles echoed into the
stairwell. The shooter was making his way outside.

Kip made a quick look around the stairway rail and below. The
shooter could not be seen. But he could make out the top of the door cracked
open and holding still. The shooter must have been squatted and looking
outside, surveying the alley.

This was a perfect time to make his move, but there was no way
for him to take even one step down. The acoustics in the hall were such that
the footstep would be echoed throughout the stairwell, no matter how light he
planted it.

Kip searched his mind and memory of his combat tactics for a
solution, and before he finished his thought, he found himself rising and
launching his body over the rail. It was this kind of thing that got him a John
Wayne label back in Afghanistan: acting before fully thinking things through.
He thought more on the way over the rail, and realized this was a deadly bad
idea. Another realization came to him on the way down as he first laid eyes on
the crouched would be assassin.
Fuck, I
know this asshole!

The asshole looked up and saw Kip flying toward him just before
the rocker slammed into him. The shooters rifle slammed against the cracked
open door and it flew open. Both of the men, locked together, Kip with a death
grip on his prey, rolled out into the sunlit but still wet alley behind the
apartment building. They rolled together through the puddles and garbage that
made up the potholed and cracked pavement until they crashed into a cluster of
galvanized garbage cans, sending them scattering against the opposite wall. Kip
let the man free as he stumbled to his feet. The shooter lost his rifle in the
attack, and it skittered away across the alley. As the man stood, Kip steadied
himself for his rush. He recognized the same dirty overcoat from two nights
before.
The homeless looking autograph
seeking assassin. What the hell is going on here?

The man rose slowly and began to circle as he pulled his torn
and filthy duster back into place. He was obviously trying to get closer to his
rifle, which had come to rest by the stairwell door they had just burst through.
Then he raised his head and looked into Kip’s questioning eyes. He reached up
and smoothed out his beard, and Kip noticed more oddity. His hands were clean.
This is no bum
.

“Why the hell are you trying to kill me?” Kip kept his
distance, but turned his body to always stay facing this nut job.

“What? Kill you?” The man said, a look of humor had come over
his face.

Kip was taken aback by the reaction. Could it be that this guy
is so far gone he doesn’t know what he’s doing?

Then Kip watched as the man stepped slightly closer to his
rifle, and Kip too better stock of the man’s weapon. A Mossberg Tactical AR-15,
a thirteen hundred dollar weapon pretty much anywhere you bought it. And it was
in perfect condition. None of this was adding up. Something else too. As the
man took another step toward his rifle, Kip noticed his shoes. The water from
the alley was beading on the well-oiled patent leather.
Bum my ass!

“Who said I was trying to kill YOU?” the man said, just as he
quickly bent to pick up the rifle. Before his hand made it to the stock, the
door swung wide and an iron bar swung down on him from inside the building,
knocking him to the ground. It gave Kip the split second he needed to cover the
distance and tackle the man again, drawing him out of reach of the rifle. But
as they rolled, the man ended up on top and with a lucky move, he managed to
get his hands on each side of Kip’s head. He banged his skull into the gravelly
pavement, sending Kip into buzzing state, nearly unable to see anything except
the man’s fist recoiled and inches from his face, about to plant directly into
his nose.

Again, the metal pipe came down from out of Kip’s peripheral
vision. It impacted on the back of the hobo assassin’s neck, sending him
rolling over Kip and away. Then Annie was there, kneeling over Kip, her hands
cupping his head. When his vision cleared, he turned his gaze from her tear
filled face to the fleeing bum. His duster the last thing he saw as the man
turned the corner and disappeared from the alley.

Kip took a deep breath and tried to sit up. Annie helped him to
a sitting position and started to examine the back of his skull.

“Annie, what the hell are you doing here?” Kip said. Didn’t I
tell you to stay put.

Annie paused what she was doing and put her face in front of
his. “You’re welcome.”

“Kip smiled at her. “Okay, thank you for saving me. But really,
why are you here? Where are the cops?”