Part 49
The Following Evening
First a few frightened voices.
BANG!
SNAPPOP!
“Hey!” A few more frightened screams.
Sktapoppopshakakakkrakitukrakcrackrakrakpoppop!
People start screaming and rustling about, mixed with the momentous “Hisssssh” of a smoke bomb ignition. The screams are frantic and growing longer. Kara and Nigel have jammed their guns through the branches, adding the sting of paintballs to the mix. POMP! POMP! POMP!
“Time to go,” Nep says and thrusts himself backwards into the shrubs. I throw myself at the prickly wall, bashing through delicate branches and shredding every hope of nut and twig. My dreads do a passable job of protecting my face. When light returns to my world, I am in hell.
Moist grass is beneath me. I'm surrounded by the acrid smell of side-of-the-road-plywood-fireworks-booth-smoke-bombs. Magenta light flares a few feet away, seen in strobe as tuxedo and evening gown draped legs stampede by, desperate for any avenue of escape. The air is hot and obscures my vision, but I am still able to get to my feet in the pinkish smoke. People are screaming and shouting all around, emphasized by the popping of the air guns. Every few seconds, there will be the sharp SNAP! of a firecracker.
Before I can even find my feet, a paint ball hits me in the side and stings like hell. The momentum sets me off balance and I nearly fall beneath the hooves of the panicked herd of affluence. I can’t find Nepotism and Mephis. If they’re already down, I’m a sitting duck, here alone, waiting for these rat fuckers to blow my head off.
Mephis Tyr swoops in on my left, grabbing my arm and forcibly stabilizes me. “Come on,” he orders pulling me toward Nepotism and a tuxedo-clad guard in front of us. All around firecrackers are exploding and paint balls are bouncing about, with wealthy dowagers running hither and thither, minds focused on detailed calculations of the dry cleaning bill.
A troop of well dressed oafs dash past us, screaming and caterwauling. We put on our best acting faces to dive in, dashing down a slight embankment, breaking free of the smoke and haze, firecrackers and paint balls still flying behind us
We stop short when we see a gun. Mephis is already reaching into his jacket, but I catch him before he blows our cover. The thick-necked guard in the tuxedo is doesn't see us. We are part of the frightened herd he’s sheep-dogging. Our only need is to keep our eyes on the mansion looming before us and the crystal doors. They are opened inward, and stuffed tuxes and evening gowns are thrashing about willy-nilly, trying to get inside where the punch bowl spiked with Vicoden will solve all their problems.
Go to Part 50
No comments:
Post a Comment