[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.Hadad bounced backwards into Carla, thensideways onto the ground, his sombrero flying.He had been holdingthe OT-15 under his coat with his left hand, finger on the trigger.Whenthe stock of the gun hit the street, the sudden jar caused him to pull thetrigger.A stream of bullets drilled the horse in the chest and side.With ashudder that ran the length of its body and a shrill scream, the horsecollapsed on its side, dead.Its falling weight twisted the wagon tongueto which it was hitched, flipping the wagon on its side, and throwingthree squealing pigs onto the street.The 250-pound animals heavedthemselves to their feet and tried to escape these crazy humans with allthe speed their pumping legs could give them. Reset Never Again103Hadad saw none of this.His mind filled with shock and pain as theodd angle of the gun s recoil and its jolt against the street twisted histrigger finger back, dislocating and breaking it.He instinctively lookeddown at the injury and gripped his painfully throbbing left hand withhis right, hardly conscious of the added pain in his right wrist he hadinstinctively used that hand to break his fall.Agony made his eyes water and his mouth gape wide.He gasped airin short breaths.He was barely able to see, let alone register in hismind, the grunting and snorting pigs lumbering past him.He did seethrough his watery eyes the driver and his helper rising from the streetwhere they had jumped.The pair rushed toward him. What the fuck are you doing, you fucking Jap? the driverscreamed at him. You idiot.You shot my Lucy. Hadad tried to get up, but the driver, a heavyset, bearded youngman in heavy woolen work pants, suspenders, and a straw hat, kickedhim in the side and knocked him over again.Red-faced and scowling,he picked up Hadad s OT-15 from the street where its recoil hadthrown it, gripped it by the barrel, and took two big steps over to theFord.He wound up like a Major League batter and swung the OT-15twice at the Ford s dashboard.Hadad heard the glass over the instru-ments breaking.Just warming up, the driver turned from the denteddashboard to batter the motor cover and the canvas top and its strutsuntil the OT-15 s stock broke in two.He threw them into the Ford.Not even winded, he bounded back to Hadad, who had gingerlystood and was holding his left hand in his right, with his injured fingersticking out.The farmer wrapped one muscular hand in Hadad s coatand lifted Hadad s face up to his.Hadad s agony had diminished topulsing pain, but now he screamed in renewed agony.Eye to eye, thedriver spit into Hadad s face, You killed Lucy, my fucking horse. Yeough! Hadad yelped, still hanging from the driver s large fist,still holding his right hand in his left. My finger is broken.Be careful. Fuck your finger you owe me, the driver growled.Carla had just moved into an offensive stance facing the driver, herfists ready, when Hadad cried, I will pay you.Let me go, damn it. The driver tightened his hold on Hadad instead. You better have$300, or I m going to flatten your fucking face, he bellowed, spewingspit.The driver s helper stepped close behind Hadad to back up thethreat.Carla still held her position a few feet away, obviously ready totake care of both men, if necessary.Even with a broken finger andbruised wrist, Hadad felt he could handle these two in spite of the pain, R.J.Rummel104but he also was aware of the crowd that was gathering a truck andseveral horse-drawn wagons and carts had stopped in the street to seewhat was going on, and pedestrians were collecting.He saw Carla getready to attack.She was looking at him as though she had a peeledlemon stuck in her mouth.He hollered at her, Give him the money,Carla. Carla relaxed, unfisted her hands, and brushed the dirt off her dress.She shook and rubbed her holster purse to knock the dirt off it, andstomped a few steps to pick up her hat.She straightened out the stackedlace and fluffed up the artificial flower buds, then carefully put it on herhead, making sure it was straight. Damn it, Carla, hurry up, Hadad hollered as the farmer adjustedhis tight grip on Hadad s coat.Apparently now satisfied with her hat, she stood straight, her headheld high and her chin out.She gave Hadad an I will kill you later look, then slowly reached into her holster purse.Her hand pausedbriefly at some bulky object, then moved past and pulled out her roll ofbills.When the driver saw the money, he loosened his grip on Hadad.Spraying more spittle in Hadad s face, he yelled, I forgot the fuckingpigs.You owe me $400. As Carla ambled the few steps to the farmer, Hadad misinterpretedher face. Do not do anything, Carla, he warned. Just give him themoney. Carla scowled. What did you think I was going to do? I m savingit for you. She took out five one hundred-dollar bills and handed themto the farmer when he released Hadad.The farmer s eyes grew large as he counted the money.His mouthsagged and he stood still for a moment, simply holding the money.Then he turned and motioned to his helper to unhitch the dead horsefrom the wagon.He turned and gave Hadad a final foul look, shovedthe money deep into his pants pocket, and ran down the street after thepigs.Hadad s broken, dislocated finger now just ached.He picked up thebattered OT-15 magazine and tossed it into the Ford with the otherpieces, then turned to Carla.He could feel the blood surging into hisface. Where s your OT? he growled. Let me have it. Carla looked at him, her hand on her hip, and told him through herteeth, I would like nothing more. She pointed to her OT-15.It wasstuck barrel first in the dirt and horse manure alongside the street,where it had fallen when he fell into her. Reset Never Again105Hadad put out his right hand.Carla hesitated, then picked up thegun and handed it to him.Grimacing at the renewed pain in his rightwrist, he turned the weapon around with one hand, looked at the dirtybarrel, and then tried to look down it. It is plugged with dirt. He cussed for several moments in Turkmen and rolled his eyes up-ward as though asking God, Why me? Finally he tossed the weaponinto the Ford and hissed, Come on.We still have our Stahls.They arenot going to escape. Hadad picked up his sombrero, put it on with a flourish, and tilted itforward to almost cover his eyes.With two sharp nods, he motionedCarla to follow him, and walked around the dead horse.Carla advised, Look both ways, Hadad. He ignored her, and looked both ways.Traffic had resumed, albeit slowly, as people still rubberneckedover the dead horse and upset wagon in the street.When there was along break in traffic, Hadad, still cradling his left hand in his right,stalked across the street.When he stood safely on the boardwalk, hewaited for Carla to hurry across.She looked him over. You re a mess. Hadad stood with his back to the street [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.Hadad bounced backwards into Carla, thensideways onto the ground, his sombrero flying.He had been holdingthe OT-15 under his coat with his left hand, finger on the trigger.Whenthe stock of the gun hit the street, the sudden jar caused him to pull thetrigger.A stream of bullets drilled the horse in the chest and side.With ashudder that ran the length of its body and a shrill scream, the horsecollapsed on its side, dead.Its falling weight twisted the wagon tongueto which it was hitched, flipping the wagon on its side, and throwingthree squealing pigs onto the street.The 250-pound animals heavedthemselves to their feet and tried to escape these crazy humans with allthe speed their pumping legs could give them. Reset Never Again103Hadad saw none of this.His mind filled with shock and pain as theodd angle of the gun s recoil and its jolt against the street twisted histrigger finger back, dislocating and breaking it.He instinctively lookeddown at the injury and gripped his painfully throbbing left hand withhis right, hardly conscious of the added pain in his right wrist he hadinstinctively used that hand to break his fall.Agony made his eyes water and his mouth gape wide.He gasped airin short breaths.He was barely able to see, let alone register in hismind, the grunting and snorting pigs lumbering past him.He did seethrough his watery eyes the driver and his helper rising from the streetwhere they had jumped.The pair rushed toward him. What the fuck are you doing, you fucking Jap? the driverscreamed at him. You idiot.You shot my Lucy. Hadad tried to get up, but the driver, a heavyset, bearded youngman in heavy woolen work pants, suspenders, and a straw hat, kickedhim in the side and knocked him over again.Red-faced and scowling,he picked up Hadad s OT-15 from the street where its recoil hadthrown it, gripped it by the barrel, and took two big steps over to theFord.He wound up like a Major League batter and swung the OT-15twice at the Ford s dashboard.Hadad heard the glass over the instru-ments breaking.Just warming up, the driver turned from the denteddashboard to batter the motor cover and the canvas top and its strutsuntil the OT-15 s stock broke in two.He threw them into the Ford.Not even winded, he bounded back to Hadad, who had gingerlystood and was holding his left hand in his right, with his injured fingersticking out.The farmer wrapped one muscular hand in Hadad s coatand lifted Hadad s face up to his.Hadad s agony had diminished topulsing pain, but now he screamed in renewed agony.Eye to eye, thedriver spit into Hadad s face, You killed Lucy, my fucking horse. Yeough! Hadad yelped, still hanging from the driver s large fist,still holding his right hand in his left. My finger is broken.Be careful. Fuck your finger you owe me, the driver growled.Carla had just moved into an offensive stance facing the driver, herfists ready, when Hadad cried, I will pay you.Let me go, damn it. The driver tightened his hold on Hadad instead. You better have$300, or I m going to flatten your fucking face, he bellowed, spewingspit.The driver s helper stepped close behind Hadad to back up thethreat.Carla still held her position a few feet away, obviously ready totake care of both men, if necessary.Even with a broken finger andbruised wrist, Hadad felt he could handle these two in spite of the pain, R.J.Rummel104but he also was aware of the crowd that was gathering a truck andseveral horse-drawn wagons and carts had stopped in the street to seewhat was going on, and pedestrians were collecting.He saw Carla getready to attack.She was looking at him as though she had a peeledlemon stuck in her mouth.He hollered at her, Give him the money,Carla. Carla relaxed, unfisted her hands, and brushed the dirt off her dress.She shook and rubbed her holster purse to knock the dirt off it, andstomped a few steps to pick up her hat.She straightened out the stackedlace and fluffed up the artificial flower buds, then carefully put it on herhead, making sure it was straight. Damn it, Carla, hurry up, Hadad hollered as the farmer adjustedhis tight grip on Hadad s coat.Apparently now satisfied with her hat, she stood straight, her headheld high and her chin out.She gave Hadad an I will kill you later look, then slowly reached into her holster purse.Her hand pausedbriefly at some bulky object, then moved past and pulled out her roll ofbills.When the driver saw the money, he loosened his grip on Hadad.Spraying more spittle in Hadad s face, he yelled, I forgot the fuckingpigs.You owe me $400. As Carla ambled the few steps to the farmer, Hadad misinterpretedher face. Do not do anything, Carla, he warned. Just give him themoney. Carla scowled. What did you think I was going to do? I m savingit for you. She took out five one hundred-dollar bills and handed themto the farmer when he released Hadad.The farmer s eyes grew large as he counted the money.His mouthsagged and he stood still for a moment, simply holding the money.Then he turned and motioned to his helper to unhitch the dead horsefrom the wagon.He turned and gave Hadad a final foul look, shovedthe money deep into his pants pocket, and ran down the street after thepigs.Hadad s broken, dislocated finger now just ached.He picked up thebattered OT-15 magazine and tossed it into the Ford with the otherpieces, then turned to Carla.He could feel the blood surging into hisface. Where s your OT? he growled. Let me have it. Carla looked at him, her hand on her hip, and told him through herteeth, I would like nothing more. She pointed to her OT-15.It wasstuck barrel first in the dirt and horse manure alongside the street,where it had fallen when he fell into her. Reset Never Again105Hadad put out his right hand.Carla hesitated, then picked up thegun and handed it to him.Grimacing at the renewed pain in his rightwrist, he turned the weapon around with one hand, looked at the dirtybarrel, and then tried to look down it. It is plugged with dirt. He cussed for several moments in Turkmen and rolled his eyes up-ward as though asking God, Why me? Finally he tossed the weaponinto the Ford and hissed, Come on.We still have our Stahls.They arenot going to escape. Hadad picked up his sombrero, put it on with a flourish, and tilted itforward to almost cover his eyes.With two sharp nods, he motionedCarla to follow him, and walked around the dead horse.Carla advised, Look both ways, Hadad. He ignored her, and looked both ways.Traffic had resumed, albeit slowly, as people still rubberneckedover the dead horse and upset wagon in the street.When there was along break in traffic, Hadad, still cradling his left hand in his right,stalked across the street.When he stood safely on the boardwalk, hewaited for Carla to hurry across.She looked him over. You re a mess. Hadad stood with his back to the street [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]