“Leave him alone!” Nix yelled.
The bounty hunter snatched a handful of Nix’s hair, tore her away from Benny, and slammed her against the station wall.
“Shut up, girlie. You don’t tell us what to do. ”
Benny came off the deck in a surge and drove his fist into Skins’ ribs. It was a good try, but he was still dizzy from the blow he’d taken, and his fist merely skittered along the big man’s side. Skins pivoted and drove a heavy punch into Benny’s back, nailing him squarely between the shoulder blades and knocking him flat onto his chest.
“Try that crap again, kid, and I’ll cut pieces off of you. ”
It was all Benny could do to breathe. When he’d landed, his breastbone had struck the broken bokken handle, and it felt like the hard wood had punched a hole through his chest.
“Benny!” Nix cried, but when she tried to bend to help him, Turk grabbed her by the sleeve and pulled her away. The action caused her shirt to ride high and expose most of her midriff. Both of the bounty hunters whistled and laughed and made comments that were as vulgar as they were threatening. Nix did not give in or give up. She fought them, kicking out as hard as she could, slapping at Turk’s face, raking her nails on his arms, pounding her fists on his chest and cheeks. Her attack was so sudden and fierce that for a moment the bounty hunter reeled back, letting go of her to use both hands to block his face. Nix tried to kick him in the groin, but Turk turned his hip and swatted hard enough her across the face to spin her into the wall again. She hit hard and slid down to her knees.
“Filthy little whore!” Turk growled. His lip and right ear were already swelling.
But even then Nix would not stop. As Benny watched she launched herself from her knees and drove into Turk’s legs, knocking him back against the rail. She made a sound like a hunting cat, a snarl that started low in her gut and rose up, filtered through rage and humiliation and the certain knowledge of what the future held. Her scream scared the birds from the trees and echoed off the mountain slope. Turk kept backing away from her, startled and confused by this child who had been frightened and cowering all last night and who was now attacking him with insane strength and speed.
“Slap some sense into that little hellcat,” demanded Skins. “Screw it … let me do it. ”
Skins stepped over Benny and reached to take a handful of Nix’s hair, just as Turk caught one of her wrists and then another. Skins drew a knife with his free hand. “I’ve had enough of your crap, girlie girl. You don’t need both eyes to fight in the zombie pits. ”
That was all Benny could take. Even though he could barely breathe, he dug one hand under his chest and grabbed the broken bokken handle, then jammed the other hand hard against the catwalk and heaved himself to his knees.
“Leave her alone!” he screamed and with all of the fury and fear that flowed through him, he drove the jagged end of the bokken into Skins’s back. When the sword had snapped, it left a hardwood stump that was as sharp as a real blade, and Benny threw his weight behind the thrust. The jagged point bit deep into the soft spot above the bounty hunter’s belt, and Benny buried it to the hilt. Blood ran hot and red over his fist, and Skins whirled and clubbed him down. Benny fell, raising his arms to ward off the next blow, but Skins stood there, gasping like a fish out of water, eyes bugged wide in unbelieving surprise.
Nix stamped down hard on Turk’s foot and tore her wrists free of his grip, then shoved him in the chest as hard as she could, h
oping to knock him over the rail. Turk was so busy staring at Skins that he was caught off guard, and staggered back all the way to the rail by the ladder, but he did not go over.
Instead, he caught his balance at the last second. Skins dropped heavily to his knees, the impact causing the metal catwalk to ring like a bell. His eyes rolled up, and he fell forward onto his face with a meaty crunch.
“You’re dead. ” Turk snarled at Benny. He grabbed his pistol and whipped it from the holster, thumbing back the hammer in a smooth and practiced move. “I’ll friggin’ kill you both for—”
That was all he got out. It was all he would ever say again.
He looked down at his chest, at the bizarre thing that suddenly sprouted from between the ribs on the left side. Benny and Nix stared as well. The whole front of Turk’s shirt exploded with red as three gleaming inches of sharpened steel extruded from the bounty hunter’s chest. He tried to say something, but there was no air left in his lungs, no power left in his voice.
Behind him there was a blur of movement and a grunt of effort. The blade vanished, pulled back into the wound and then out of Turk’s body. Benny watched as the person behind him cocked a leg, placed a foot on the bounty hunter’s body, and shoved him forward, so that he landed face-down, inches from Skins.
The figure stood there in the harsh morning sunlight. Tattered jeans and hand-sewn leather moccasins, a shirt that had once been bright with a wildflower pattern, with a leather pouch slung across her body on a thin strap. Hair the color of newly fallen snow swirled around her tanned face, and she stared at them with cunning hazel eyes. In her tanned hands she held a spear crudely made from a long piece of quarter-inch black pipe wrapped in leather and topped with the blade from a Marine Corps bayonet.
The Lost Girl.
42
“WHO ARE YOU?” NIX ASKED, BUT AT THE SAME TIME BENNY SPOKE her name.
“Lilah!”
The girl stiffened, and the bloody spear swung around in his direction. Her hazel eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
Benny held up his hands. “No, wait … I’m Benny Imura. ”
She showed no sign of recognition.
“I’m Tom Imura’s brother. ”
The girl said nothing.