“Jesus, Andi, what the hell happened?”
Her long fingers dug into her outer thigh, encircling a matted stain.
“Let me see,” I said, pulling her hand away. Beyond frayed and discolored denim, a crimson dot was outlined with liquid red, mixed in with a bit of torn flesh.
“You were shot?”
“That glass-eyed asshole shot me,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice trembling. I'd never seen Andi in pain, not like this.
I looked around for something, anything to help stop the bleeding.
“Jet, Andi's been shot. Anything up front to stop the bleeding?”
He tossed a white T-shirt over the seat. "Dad leaves extra T-shirt in car in case he needs to change." I saw his worried eyes glance back through the rearview mirror.
I grabbed the T-shirt and gently pressed the wound.
“Hold on!” Jet yelled out. I stuck my hand on the door so I wouldn't fall into Andi, as Jet curled the yellow boat left, then jerked it right.
“Look out, asshole!” he screamed.
I looked out the back window and spotted three cyclists, each holding his bike in one hand and flipping us off with the other.
“Tie it.”
“What?” I turned my attention back to Andi.
“Tie it around my leg.”
I didn't second-guess her. I did as she said, and as I slowly twisted the knot, she let out a low-pitched groan.
“Thanks,” she said.
I looked at her face. Moist eyes, a single tear bubbling in one corner. I wanted to help her more, to do something to turn back the clock and keep her out of harm's away. Away from me. She was yet another person suffering from being close to me. I silently cursed myself.
“Jet, where are you taking us?” Every word I spoke spilled out faster and faster, hoping that it would somehow save us time, find a way to help Jet hide us from the killers.
“Can't go to hospital. Doctors will bring in cops. They ask too many questions.”
“Right,” I said, then wondered if all of me agreed with the logic. But I ran with it since my adrenaline-soaked brain couldn't think of another option.
Jet pulled out a cell phone and put it to his ear. It looked old, maybe four or five years, a simple model.
I then heard him speak in rapid-fire Chinese. Who knew what dialect? I could only listen to his tone. His voice was direct, forceful even. Then he was silent, apparently listening. He lowered the phone briefly and yelled back to us.
“Brace yourself!”
Andi grabbed my shoulder, and I planted my arm against the door panel. The boat flopped over a succession of speed bumps, dips, moguls...I wasn't exactly sure, but it felt like we were on the wrong end of a yo-yo. I thought it would never end. And then it did.
Jet tossed his phone in the passenger seat then used both hands to execute an obstacle course of quick turns. Finally, he slowed to about twenty miles per hour as he turned into a narrow alley, encased by tall apartment buildings on either side. The buildings had no base color from what I could tell. Chipped-gray, white, and some light blue had mixed together like a quilted blanket. Open windows everywhere, a bit of red and black graffiti sprawled on one building. But what stood out most was the plethora of clotheslines connecting one building to the other, like a perfectly sewn spider web. This web had laundry dangling from the lines, adding more color to the scene, most of it muted shades.
“Enter the building there,” Jet pointed to his left, where a kid close to Jet's age leaned next to an open door, a cigarette wedged between his forefinger and thumb.
“Where is this?”
He turned around and looked me in the eye.
“This is my home. My family's home.” His eyes glanced at Andi, who had her hand over her face. The white T-shirt was starting to turn red, even at the knot.
“Take right once inside. We have no working elevator, so you'll need to take steps. Up to fourth floor, 432. My sister is there. She will call my aunt, who is a nurse.”
“Your sister?”
“Yeah. She's cool, like me.”
I released a brief smile and patted his arm. “Thanks, Jet.”
I leaned over and pulled the door handle on Andi's side while I spoke to Jet. “Where are you going?”
“Need to drop off the cab, about eight blocks from here. I'll run back. No worry,” he said as confident as an FBI operative. I trusted this kid.
I pulled open my door and ran around to help raise Andi into a standing position. She hopped twice. “I think I need you to help me. Get on this side, and I'll grab your shoulder.”
Changing over to her right side to act as her crutch, we took one step in tandem, then another. Her fingers dug into my shoulder. She wasn't light as a feather, that much was certain.
“Back in few minutes,” Jet shouted through his open window, then he drove off.
“How you doing?” I asked Andi.
“Surviving,” she grunted out.
I raised my head, and the teenager with the cigarette extended his arm, like he was inviting us into his home. The building must be home to dozens, if not hundreds of families. We stepped and shuffled three more steps, then paused, both of us getting better grips of each other.
Out of the darkness beyond the entry, I heard giggling little girls and boys, and then saw six little heads peep around the corner of the open door, round faces and wide eyes. Gradually, each black-haired child walked slowly outside, all wearing sandals and clothes that were either stained, ripped, or both. None any higher than my waist.
A bold little boy stepped forward and eyed Andi and me. His belly stuck out a bit from a shirt that was easily three sizes too small. When he noticed her wound, he took a timid half-step forward, then he turned around and barked out orders in Chinese to his friends, all of whom apparently had their own opinions to share.
He turned back around and waved his arm like a cop at an intersection. "Follow me," he said.
“How does he know where we need to go?” Andi asked.
I shrugged my one free shoulder. “I just know that Jet said we need to go to 432. And we'll get there, whether the munchkins lead us that way or not.”
Four steps later, we made it to the entryway, then, as Jet instructed, took a right. The kids lined the walls, hands over whispering mouths. Slowly, each released a free hand and started waving us along.
“Is this what it feels like when you're finishing a triathlon? A bunch of people you don't know urging you to get to the finish line?”
“Something like that. Ow!” Andi touched the T-shirt, feeling a zap of pain.
“Okay to keep going, or do you need to sit and rest?”
“I'll be fine. Let's not stop. If we do, I'm not sure I'll have the energy to get back up.”
We shuffled along filthy concrete floors in a dimly lit hallway. At first, I picked up a scent of Chinese food. A few feet later, it smelled like sour sweat. Without warning, a door flung open to our left, and we stopped. An elderly, white-haired woman wearing a dusty-blue robe just stared at us. She pushed the door to barely open—I could see her eyes through the crack, like she didn't trust us being there.
Given their everyday routine, the vision of me helping a wounded, bloodied girl down their hallway, couldn't be a comforting feeling.
We arrived at the stairs, and the lead munchkin stood at the top of the first flight. "This way. Follow me." He waved his arm three times.
“You ready for the climb of your life?” I asked.
“Only because it might be for my life.“ Andi's face was hardened, her eyes narrowed. She held the railing with her right arm, while I stood perpendicular to her, aiding her left side. She hopped up one step.
“Dammit! Too rough. Need to be gentle,” she said turning my way, her brown eyes penetrating me.
“Got it. Nice and easy,” I said, winking automatically.
She bit her lip, then turned back to me and let out a chuckle. “You little shit. Trying to get my goat right here in the
middle of—”
“A staircase, in the heart of Chinatown somewhere. Didn't mean to crack a joke, but if the ball is teed up, sometimes I can't help but swing.”
“Okay, Hank Aaron. Swing your ass out of my way, and let's keep this entourage moving.”
I glanced around, and it seemed like more kids had heard about the mysterious people trolling their apartment building, one with a bloody leg. We hobbled up three more steps and hit the first landing. Five minutes later, we reached the next milestone, the second floor. Despite cool temperatures, Andi had begun to sweat profusely. She removed her jacket, and almost immediately, a little girl picked it up and ran off.
Andi didn't care to say a word.
She hobbled up another step, but her foot slipped, and she began to fall backward. I grabbed her wrist, anchored my legs, and leaned my weight in the opposite direction, keeping her from falling.
She took in several deep breaths. Her face was pale with patches of red from exertion. Her hair had long since turned into a ratty, brown mop. I heard a sniffle.
“I'm not sure I can make it up there.” Her usually strong voice sounded thin.
We both knew I was anything but one hundred percent physically, but I didn't ask questions. I felt a rush of adrenaline, a drive for us both to reach our goal and hopefully ensure that Andi could be taken care of.
“Put your left arm around my shoulder.”
“Huh?”
I grabbed her wrist and brought it around my shoulder, then moved her in closer. I bent my knees and slowly picked her up.
“You shouldn't be doing this,” Andi said, looking behind us at the downward slope of the stairs. “We shouldn't be doing this."
I didn't utter a word, mostly because I couldn't. My head throbbed, as did a multitude of joints and my ribs. My lungs failed to expand, so I used choppy breaths to keep the oxygen flowing to my brain. We got to the next landing, a throng of kids surrounding us, but I couldn't stop.
“Should we...?”
I ignored Andi, but my legs felt like wet noodles, my head and ribs shouting at me to stop. I moved quicker, and I hit each step faster than the last, my heartbeat outpacing every limb. Turning the corner onto the last flight, four kids on either side were now yelling at the top of their lungs, their tiny hands cupped around their mouths. They could see my red face and Andi's red leg. They looked like miniature coaches, or drill sergeants, urging, begging, ordering me to make it to the top.
Andi began to slip through my sweaty arms, her weight falling onto my knees, which felt like they were stuck in sludge. I leaned forward...the tip of my shoe tripped on a step, then I finally let go of Andi, and she slid onto the fourth-floor landing like it was a choreographed move. I landed like a stiff cadaver, most of my weight coming down with a thud on my two forearms, which sent a shockwave of pain sweeping through my body. More bruises to an already battered person.
The little ones immediately flocked to Andi's side, doodling with her hair. One little girl extended sausage fingers toward the bloody leg, but pulled her arm back like the wound might have teeth.
I released four exhaustive breaths, saliva escaping my mouth and mixing with sweat that beaded on my face. I padded over to Andi, who looked like Gulliver surrounded by Lilliputians. I helped her up liked she was a teammate—a damn tough one—and we hobbled another thirty feet, stopping at a silver door with three gold numbers nailed to it: 4-3-2, although the two dangled on its side.
I paused for just a brief second, a hint of doubt creeping into my neck, wondering if somehow Jet wasn't really who he said he was, if this was all part of some plan to lure us into a foreign dwelling, essentially walking into our own torture chamber.
Damn, my mind is warped.
I blinked away the ridiculous notion then moved my fist toward the door. Just before impact, hoards of little kids began peppering the door three feet beneath me, their tiny hands looking like biscuits, delicately rapping at the door, not wanting to hurt their bare knuckles on the hollow metal surface.
I chuckled out loud as I looked down at our guardian angels. Then the door cracked open. I could see a pair of eyes, a chain still separating Andi and me from the person on the other side.
“Who is there?” a girl asked. I think she was trying to make her voice sound low, authoritative.
“Uh, I'm Michael. This is Andi.” My running buddy leaned left and gave the girl a tight wave. Then, Andi bit her lower lip, another stabbing pain causing her to lose her balance, and she shifted her weight against me.
A quick nod, then the eyes behind the chain spotted the little kids hovering around us like humming birds zipping around a water bowl. The eyes focused on Andi's leg, dried blood now snaking all the way down her jeans like a bloody river.
“Who sent you?”
“Jet.”
I saw eyebrows crinkle. Then, a knowing nod. The door shut, then I heard metal slide, and the door swung open.
“Sorry about the questions. Can't be too careful, even if my brother told me you were coming.”
The young Asian girl had a pleasant look, her long, black hair nearly touching her waist. She wore a faded, gold dress with a white apron tied around it. Suddenly, she was interrupted by the buzzing birds prancing all around us.
“Shoo, all of you!” she said playfully. Then I heard two or three say, “I'm hungry.“
The girl walked toward a kitchen with peeled orange wallpaper, opened a crooked cabinet door, and pulled out a package of crackers. The kids flocked her around like seagulls at a beach. Had Andi not been grimacing from being shot, I might have taken a couple of crackers and tossed them in the air, baiting the kids to jump like puppy dogs.
“Seems like you've done this before,” I said above the incessant chatter.
“Any time they're able to get through that door.” A thin smile crossed her lips.
“Time to go home, little ones,” she said, herding the children, who appeared to not even notice they were being led out to the hallway, their own narrow playground.
“I'm sorry, we don't even know your name,” I said as the Asian girl turned the padlock, then hooked the chain and slid it across.
She turned and held out her hand like she was starting a professional meeting. But she looked like she was fifteen.
“Susan. Very nice to meet you.” When she took Andi's hand, she held it gingerly, almost like she was studying it.
“You are in pain. I'm so sorry. Gui only told me couple of tidbits of what happened.”
“Gui?” I asked then realized she must have been referring to Jet. I liked his nickname better.
Andi and I both held up a finger, ready to recite our story, but Susan lowered her head and beat us to the punch.
“No worries. You've been through a lot. Please sit.” She pointed toward a blue suede coach, the middle seat cushion missing, stains covering each armrest. Susan pulled a cell phone out of her apron and tapped a couple of buttons.
“Aunt Sylvia,” she said. And then we heard a flurry of Chinese. “She'll be right over.“
She glanced at Andi. “Can I get you something, anything?”
“A new leg,” Andi joked. “Water would be nice.“
Susan walked back with two waters, lowering her head as she handed us each a glass of water.
“Thank you.”
I kneeled down and reached toward Andi's leg, stopping a few inches short of the wound.
Andi said, "It's okay. I feel better now, sitting down, this water. Thank you." Her voice was sincere.
A knock on the door. Then a few more knocks, possibly a strange pattern.
“That's Gui,” Susan said, hopping up and walking toward the door.
“How did you know that?” I asked as she unlatched the door without hesitation.
“We have a code,” she said with a straight face. Gui...rather, Jet walked through the door. He gave us a quick, cool nod and headed for the fridge. He grabbed a gallon jug of water and tipped it back.
“Ahhh,” he sa
id then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Feeling any better?“ he asked Andi.
“A little, yes.”
I looked over at Andi. Her hair was beyond a mess, and she didn't give a rat's ass. After some water and rest, the stress lines seemed to have dissipated a bit.
Something buzzed, and Susan grabbed her phone. “Aunt Sylvia is here.”
“She lives close by?” I asked.
Jet spoke up while Susan unlatched the door. "Number two. The building across the alley. We call it number two. We live in number one. Most of our family lives in one of these two buildings," he said.
“Dahwings,” I heard a woman say as she flew into the small apartment. A stylish black bag hung from her shoulder. She looked to be mid-forties or so, her hair styled to perfection, makeup applied, but wearing pink and purple scrubs. Was there such a thing as designer scrubs?
“Let me take a look at your wound, my dear,” she said with grace. Her personality seemed quite different than those of her niece and nephew.
She pulled a pair of medical scissors out of her bad, along with an assortment of supplies, including a mound of gauze pads, syringes, and other tubes I didn't recognize.
Susan introduced us.
“Nice to meet you...”
“Just call me Aunt Sylvia,” she smiled at me, then turned to Andi. “By the time I'm done with you, you might be calling me Aunt Bitch.“
We both chuckled, then a worried look washed over Andi's face. I held her hand.
“Feel free to dig your nails in if you need to,” I said.
“Susan, get Andi a moist cloth,” Aunt Sylvia said.
Seconds later, Susan returned and started applying the cold rag to Andi's forehead.
“No silly, it's not to wet her down. She's not a seal.” Aunt Sylvia laughed at herself, and the rest of us followed, although I think Jet rolled his eyes. “Let her bite the shit out of it when I tear off this bloody T-shirt and jeans.“
Aunt Sylvia then went to work, and Andi howled like a wolf in heat.
Chapter Nineteen
Today
The deadline felt like a massive steel hook—the type used on five-hundred-ton cargo ships—surgically anchored to the base of her skull. Actually, this hook had tentacles, like a jellyfish, that had suctioned its grip to every organ in her body. Every physical movement, every thought or desire or even reflection sent electrical jolts shooting through her body, all ending with a final pop at the tip of her brain.
GREED Box Set (Books 1-4) Page 82
