Forty-six
King grew agitated when the sporadic firefight began
at daybreak. The giant stood in the center of the motel court, dancing in
circles like a drunk with one foot caught in a hole, bellowing orders and
threatening laggards. While Abe watched on in confusion, Delaney came up
behind him and put a gun to his head. “Who the hell are they, Abraham?”
Abe had no idea who they were. “Trevor Industries,”
he said. Trevor Industries was his best bet. He had seen their
helicopters come and go in the past. He had some vague idea of the size
of the corporation. King had simply bitten off more than he could chew.
“We’re pulling out,” Delaney said.
With a sinking sensation, Abe knew that he and Evie
and Lazarus wouldn’t be going with King and his people. Evie was probably
dead by now, raped and murdered by her own brother. Lazarus had yet to
reappear from his motel cabin.
An enormous explosion from the direction of the
die-casting plant sent a shockwave tearing tiles from roofs throughout
town. A cloud of smoke smelling strongly of cordite settled over the
area. Delaney began to mimic King, turning about with a look of panic on
his face, as if trying the futile task of guarding a three hundred and
sixty degree perimeter. With the gun still held to his head, Abe was
forced to turn with him.
From that point on, the siege began in earnest.
Delaney pulled him against the nearest of the cabins as the firefight in
the surrounding town ebbed and flowed. Rifle fire and the eerie flashes
of stroboscopic light that signaled the self-destruction of King’s
defeated men
drew ever closer.
