Serial Saturday: The Figurine, Part 29

The car’s engine revved as it came, and Farthing continued drawing his pistol with only a slight pause. He snapped off one shot, then turned to jump to his right. Jefferson lunged behind him, going to the left, and threw his hip at Farthing’s back as he went by.

Farthing twisted even as he stumbled, and Jefferson caught an accusatory expression on his face in the blinding glow of the approaching headlights. Jefferson thought Farthing was actually trying to bring his pistol to bear, still moving in that rapid, jerky way he had.

Then Jefferson was hitting the road as he heard a wet thud behind him. He felt the car whip past, just missing his legs he thought, and turned in time to see Farthing still bouncing on the road like a battered rag doll. He scrambled to his feet as he heard squealing brakes from down the street–the Cord encountering Reeves’ car.

He staggered over to Farthing and knelt next to him as he heard the Cord approaching. Hopefully, even if Gantry had seen him push Farthing, he could avoid being run down by being next to the man. Not that it would have hurt Farthing to be run over one more time. It was clear, in the approaching Cord’s headlamps, that his skull had been staved in, along with all the other broken bones.

Jefferson stood and ran toward the Cord as it screeched to a halt nearby.

“He’s dead,” Jefferson said, as he yanked open the passenger door. “Get after Reeves.”

For a moment Gantry just stared at him as he slid into the seat. “Go!” Jefferson shouted, and he did, hitting the gas and swinging the Cord in a wide U-turn.

Reeves’ car was just turning off the street, several blocks up, and Gantry floored it in pursuit. For a moment, it seemed like Gantry was about to say something, then he shook his head and glared forward as he wrestled the car through the turn.

Reeves’ car was still in sight, and Jefferson thought he could see some smoke drifting from it–maybe Farthing had done some damage bouncing off it.

“Don’t catch him,” Jefferson said, “let him lead us where he wants to go.”

“Stop giving me goddamn orders, Quinn,” Gantry muttered, but he let off the accelerator slightly.

Soon it was clear that Reeves was heading for the swamps outside of town, which wasn’t much of a surprise. Jefferson’s only question was what they’d find there–Temperance, Clyburne, or just Sciribath.

Gantry swore suddenly, and swerved. The street had become more of a back road now, trees replacing houses on either side, and Jefferson caught a glimpse of a pair of people shambling along the road in the headlamps as the went past, also heading for the swamp. Gantry slowed further as a few more people appeared, walking slowly along and seemingly unaware of the two cars going past them.

The tail lights of the car ahead of them slewed back and forth for a moment, and Jefferson saw a shadowy form thrown off the road–it seemed Reeves wasn’t quite as good at avoiding the stream of pedestrians as Gantry was.

Gantry went past the crumpled form without a glance, focused on the car ahead. “Okay,” he muttered, “okay.”

Jefferson looked ahead and saw that Reeves was pulling over. Gantry accelerated, and Jefferson reached under his coat for his revolver.

“You want to give me my Colt back?” he asked. Gantry ignored him, slamming on the brakes to skid to a stop next to Reeves’ car. He threw open the driver’s door, and Jefferson followed him a moment later. It was tempting to just plug Gantry where he stood, but the big man whirled, holding his own pistol, and gave Jefferson a smile.

There were people all around them, Jefferson realized, walking past barely visible in the dark, moving off the road into the marsh. All ignored the two, as well as the cars.

“Not sure I need you to track folks down anymore, Quinn,” Gantry said.


Copyright © 2012 SM Williams

~ by smwilliams on November 17, 2012.