by Billy Kring
Amber, Archie, Vick, and a dozen of the gym regulars stood outside our office as we arrived. Amber rushed to the truck and hugged my neck so tightly I could barely breathe. As the others crowded around us, Amber moved to Bodhi and they hugged a long time, with both crying. I shook hands with the others. Amber went lastly to Hondo and hugged him, then returned to me and put her arm around my waist as we walked to the office.
Once inside, we told them what happened. When we finished, Archie said, “Have they found this Moon guy’s body?”
Hondo said, “Not yet, they’re still fighting the fire. Ronny gave the firefighters and police a good description of where they fell, so I think it’ll be in the next couple days.”
By then, I felt so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. Amber hadn’t left my side and she whispered in my ear, “You want to go home?”
“I think so.”
“Come on, I’ll take you.”
We told everyone goodbye, and I made sure Hondo would take care of Bodhi. We left after Bodhi gave me one more hug. Amber drove Shamu. I fell asleep almost before we left the parking lot. Once home, I staggered like a drunkard to the bed and fell face down on it. Amber covered me with a small blanket she brought from the couch. She snuggled beside me as I fell into an exhausted, troubled sleep.
The next day my legs and back felt so sore I could hardly walk. Amber had left for work early, so I took my time getting out of bed.
Hondo sat at my kitchen table drinking coffee when I rose. He studied me as I shuffled to the cabinet to get a cup. “You look like Tim Conway in those old Carol Burnett skits, the one where he plays the old white haired man.”
I retrieved a cup, poured coffee and sat across the small table from him. “I don’t have white hair.”
“You don’t have much at all on the back of your head.”
“I might have singed a few.”
He looked at my arms and hands, which had blisters the size of quarters on portions of them. “You’re going to look like a pinto pony when those pop and show the pink skin on your tan.” He saluted me with his cup, “Glad that’s the worst of it.”
I said, “How good was the Kiowa?”
“Almost as good as me,” he said, holding his thumb and forefinger a hair’s breadth apart. “But not quite.”
“Makes me glad the cops showed.”
“Amen to that.”
We drank our coffee, refilling our cups because it seemed like a two-cup day. I said, “We need to do something for Juan’s family.”
“We’ll talk to the police, see if they can help us on the address.”
I said, “I don’t have much in savings, but I’m willing to send it to them.”
“Me too.”
When we finished coffee, Hondo rinsed out his cup and put it on a towel to dry, then said, “Take your time coming in. I’ll open the office, make a few calls from there and see how things are progressing.”
“Did you check with Bodhi?”
“First thing this morning. She’s hanging in there. I told her to come to the office and be with us. She said she would.”
“Good. I’ll be there in a little while. I still smell like smoke, and I need a bath.”
“I’ll see you there.”
When I arrived at our office, I saw a police car and a County Sheriff’s sedan. I went inside and saw Vick and a big-shouldered police sergeant I didn’t know. Hondo and Bodhi sat with them at our table.
Vick said, “We’d like you to go with us this morning.”
I said, “Where?”
“On Mount Lee. The fire is under control and our people can’t locate where you said the three men went down. We want to find the bodies.”
“Okay.” I looked at Bodhi, “You don’t have to go.” She looked relieved.
The police sergeant said, “I’m John Mata. You want to ride with me?”
“Sure.”
Mata’s car led a small procession to Mount Lee, with Vick behind us. He said, “What I hear, they’re not sure exactly what part of the slope to check.”
“I’m sore from yesterday, but I’ll gimp up there and see if I can point it out.”
Mata said, “They’ve got some four-wheel drives out there. We’ll get them to take you up to the top, save you a little walking.”
“I’m for that.”
He said, “Least we can do, you being a hero and all. One of the firefighters got a video of you topping out on the mountain, carrying those two people and with the flames and smoke behind you, kind of epic.”
“You’d have done the same thing.”
“I couldn’t have done the same thing, brah. By the way, the video is on YouTube and going viral. Last I looked, it had over three-hundred thousand hits in twenty-four hours.”
“I hope they got my good side.”
Mata laughed, “It was all good, Baca.”
We reached the small group of other law enforcement and first responder units and conferred with the leaders. Mata volunteered to drive me up to the summit, so one of the others tossed him the keys and pointed to a red Jeep Wrangler.
When we reached the summit near the Hollywood sign, I exited and looked around. What I saw seemed surreal. One side of the mountain, the Hollywood sign side, looked green and brown. The backside was blackened ash and skeletal trees pointing ebony, devil-like fingers toward the sky. Here and there small tendrils of pale smoke drifted skyward. Several firefighting groups moved on the slopes, targeting those areas and extinguishing the heat sources.
Two men and a woman walked from the radio tower area to join us, introducing themselves as the forensics team, with the woman as the chief Medical Examiner, Anna Hawkins.
Hawkins pointed at the fire-devastated side and said, “Recognize the place?”
“Not from here. I need to retrace my route.”
“We’ll go with you.” I nodded and we started down.
It was all I could do to keep from whimpering with each step. My legs and back felt like the muscles were impregnated with shards of glass, and each movement made them yell at me to stop moving.
Hawkins said, “You’re moving well, considering your efforts yesterday. I thought you might be stiff and sore.”
“It would have killed a lesser man.”
She laughed, as did the others, “I don’t think you’re far wrong on that, Mr. Baca.”
The further we descended, the more my muscles warmed and became less painful. After ten minutes, I almost felt normal. Almost.
Hawkins said, “We’ve gone up and down twice before, so I’m hoping you can locate the area. Our legs are weakening at a rapid clip.”
I surveyed the slope and saw familiar boulders fifty yards downslope and to our right, but further to our right than I remembered. “Over there.” I said. We crossed at an angle and reached them without trouble. The boulders seemed larger up close. “They were on the other side, that’s where I last saw them.”
We worked our way to the far side, being careful because of the steep slope and a good bit of loose talus. A small cave-like opening showed at the base of two boulders. The burned remains of a medium sized oak lay across the opening. One of the men used his phone to shine a light underneath the tree and said, “Bodies.”
I stood to the side as they went about with their work. Hawkins had a good team. When they removed the tree, the man said, “Looks like they crawled in here to escape the fire.”
I asked, “How bad are they?”
“Like a burned match head.”
Hawkins said, “The tree on top of them. Oak burns hot and long.”
They worked carefully to remove the first body. Then one of the men said, “Uh-oh.”
Hawkins said, “What?”
“Appears to be a bullet hole in the back of this one’s skull.”
“Photograph it,” Hawkins said. They removed the corpse and placed it in a body bag, then returned to the cave.
“The second one’s deeper in here. It’ll take us a minute.” They worked and moved in the cram
ped space, but eventually got the second body out of the hole. The man said, “This one’s shot like the first one, back of the head.”
Everyone worked hard and sweated a lot, exposed to the sun like we this, and the men in the hole panted from the heat. Hawkins said, “Did you find the third body?”
He said, “There’s only two.”
I felt my scalp prickle, “Can I look in there?”
“I’m telling you, there’s not a third body.”
“I understand, but can I look?”
He sighed, and exited the hole. I said, “Can I borrow your phone? For the light?”
He handed it over and I crawled into the stinking darkness where it smelled like a badly burned roast. I twisted so I could go in headfirst. The space felt too small, with the rock scraping my back and the earth and debris hard against my stomach. I had to stop and close my eyes for a second to stop the smothering fear of claustrophobia welling up in me. I got it under control and opened my eyes. The bottom of the hole had enough soil for me to see where someone crawled farther into the narrowing space. I pushed my head into the space and saw a thin brightness ahead. I used the phone light to check everything before backing out of the tight, stinking space.
Someone, a desperate someone, might be able to squeeze through the narrow space, and if the light I saw happened to be an opening, they might be able to get out that way. I crawled out of the cave and went to the far side of the boulders. There is was: a narrow, slit-like opening.
Hawkins said, “Is it large enough?”
I nodded, “Yes. And only Moon could fit. The other two bodies are his enforcers.”
The man said, “With bullet holes in their heads.”
I said, “Moon shot them, then pulled them on top of the opening to block the fire.”
Hawkins said, “He must have left the cave while the blaze still burned, because the firefighters arrived on the scene fast, even before they spotted you.”
I looked down at all the blackened acres in the canyon. Moon would have gone through the fire, looking for another way to escape. He certainly didn’t come over the mountain like Bodhi and I, or someone would have seen him.
Hawkins must have thought the same thing. She said, “He went into the inferno. My guess is his body is out here somewhere among the other charred remains.”
I said, “You don’t think he made it out?”
She rolled her eyes at me, “Do you?”
“I guess not.”
She looked around one last time, “Let’s get off the mountain. I’ll send someone back for the bodies.”
We shook hands at the bottom of the hill, and then I drove toward the office. I thought about calling Hondo before I realized I didn’t have a phone. It’s an odd feeling, because I was used to having immediate communication with everyone. Traffic was heavy, so I took a couple of detours, which made it feel like I made good time even if I didn’t.
Hondo had Bodhi, Amber, and Archie waiting at the office when I arrived. He also had a box of Winchell’s donuts on the table. He said, “Just for you.”
“All of them?”
“No, you have to share, but you can go first.”
I used a napkin to grab one and take a bite of the warm, sugary goodness. “Hey, these are fresh baked.”
“Right out of the oven and from the store to you.”
I took another bite and savored it. Hondo sighed. Archie crossed his arms and tapped his foot. Amber and Bodhi gave me the come on hand sign to talk.
I swallowed and said, “Is there some chocolate almond milk? No?” I figured I’d pushed the limits of their patience so I told them what we found among the ashes.
When I finished, Hondo said, “Think Moon escaped the fire?”
“Man, I don’t see how. But we didn’t find a body, and there are a lot of people looking. So I don’t know.”
Bodhi said, “That complicates things.”
I asked, “How so?”
“The attorneys told me that Troy had his will set up so that if he died, Moon gets everything.”
“What?”
“Yes. The only way I inherit is if Moon is dead, then Mom’s fortune reverts to me. And with no body…”
I was angry. “It’s not right.”
Bodhi said, “I have my attorneys working on a solution.” She smiled, “And I have you to thank for being alive, which is the most important thing.”
I said, “Let’s hope Moon’s body turns up.”
Hondo nudged the donuts closer to me, “You’re not through, are you?”
So I ate another one, and my friends finished off the box. Later that evening, Amber and I went to my place, where we watched television for a while, then went to bed.
The next morning I woke to the smell of bacon cooking. I slipped on my shorts and went into the kitchen, where Amber had pancakes and bacon ready and on the table. I said, “What did I do to deserve this?”
“You didn’t get yourself killed.”
“I’ll have to keep that up.”
“You’d better.”
She had the house open for the morning, and the air smelled cool and fresh. The sliding glass door to the deck had been pushed back and allowed a nice view in addition to the breeze.
I toasted Amber with a coffee cup and watched her put the last pancake on the pile before bringing them to the table. As she bent to put the plate down, I caught a whiff of smoke coming in off the deck.
The burned, blackened form of a man stepped into the house and raised a long barreled pistol, like the buntline model used by Wyatt Earp. I had a pancake on my fork and flipped it like a Frisbee at the man’s face to make him jerk his head as I yelled at Amber, “Run!”
I jumped from the chair and grabbed the seat as I twisted at the waist, launching the chair at him. The chair hit into the man’s arms and his first shot went wide.
Amber scrambled past the table as the man, who I recognized as Moon, snapped a quick shot at her. Amber grunted and stumbled, falling on her hands and knees as a spot of blood showed on her lips.
I lifted the table and held it up toward him, charging him and trying to shield Amber. A shot hit the table and came through, but missed me. I felt the table hit him but he didn’t go down. I could see under the bottom edge as his feet moved backward to keep his balance.
Suddenly the long pistol came over the top and fired so close to my face that I felt temporarily stunned and deafened. I swatted at it like a clumsy bear and the pistol sailed through the air and off the elevated deck to hit on the slope below.
I tossed the table aside and charged him, only to catch an ice pick through the hand. I jerked back and he came at me, saying in a horrible, throat-burned voice, “You killed my brother! You. Killed. My. Brother.” With every word he stabbed or slashed at me with the ice pick.
I watched his feet, then shot a high, roundhouse kick at his head.
Moon reacted fast, and the ice pick struck the bone just above my ankle and penetrated a good inch.
Hot pain shot up my leg. I stumbled back and went to the ground, then rolled to my feet, hopping on one leg. The ice pick stuck out diagonally from the inside of my ankle.
Moon reached the fire pit and grabbed an iron poker used for decoration. He swung it at my head and I ducked as the weapon cut the air, making a vhoop sound.
I heard Amber make a bubbly moan as she called my name, “Ro-bha-ny.” My heart broke. I stood on both feet and waited for Moon. He feinted, then came at me.
I moved my feet and caught my free foot on the ice pick, causing a jolt of heart-stopping pain to shoot into my wounded leg. I staggered, and felt the impact of the iron poker as it whistled through the air to catch my ducking head above the ear and send red dots and blue lines across my vision.
I went to my knees and he brought the poker down on my back. I felt a rib give and my breath whoosh out.
Rolling forward, I hit his legs like a large bowling ball and sent him staggering to the rail.
I rose and raced a
t him, throwing kicks and punches as fast as I could, using them to work him off balance and as far from Amber as I could get him.
Moon countered. He’d had some martial arts training, and blocked a number of my attacks.
My breath came in gasps and my leg felt almost useless. Moon seemed manic, energized. He rasped, “Today you die, you yellow coward.”
I had my feet wide apart so I wouldn’t trip over the ice pick, and I launched into him.
We hit the railing hard, with both of us off balance. The wood gave way and we fell.
I twisted and grabbed an intact post with one hand and jerked to a stop, hanging in the air.
I looked below and saw Moon and the remainder of the guardrail hit the ground fifteen feet below. Moon crawled to his feet, looked up at me, then began picking up rocks and throwing them at me like a big league pitcher.
The first one missed, but the second one hit me in the kidneys and made my breath catch. I turned and tried to pull myself up on the deck.
Moon threw another rock the size of my fist and caught me high in the back, almost paralyzing me.
I let go and dropped, hitting and rolling to put some distance between us.
He’d found the poker and picked it up. His face showed more hate than I had ever seen on anyone. “Today,” he said as he advanced.
I slipped on gravel and turned to my hands and knees to get traction as I heard him coming.
In front of me lay the buntline pistol, a .22. I grasped it and turned just as Moon reached me with his raised weapon and his mouth open in a scream.
I shot him through the roof of his mouth.
He made a funny coughing sound and collapsed on me. The poker slipped from his hand and clattered to the rocks beside us.
I pulled myself from under him and checked his pulse. Dead.
I tried to pull out the ice pick, but it remained stuck, and the pain of trying made sweat pop out on my forehead. I got to my feet staggering up the slope, hoping and praying for Amber to be alive.
I made it into the house and to her side. She looked in bad shape, with a wheezing sound and blood from her mouth that told me the shot pierced her lung. I turned her on her side so the lungs wouldn’t fill and sat with her, brushing the hair from her face and whispering to her that I loved her, and for her to hang on. Her hand moved feebly to mine and squeezed it with a barely discernible strength.
