Eye of the Sh*t Storm Jackson Ford (detective books to read txt) 📖

of course, he doesn’t pick up. The burning smell has dissipated, a little, but there’s no point taking another run at the hill. If she can’t get more than a couple of feet up, she’s not going to make it all the way to the top.

It occurs to her to try moving further along, to the north or south – perhaps there’ll be a shallower slope. But the trees, while thin and scrawny, are tightly packed on either side of the makeshift playground. It’s possible that she could navigate her chair between them, but she’s more than likely to get stuck. She’d be in an even worse position than she’s in now.

“Goddammit.”

It comes out louder than she intended – but then again, it’s not as if anyone is around to hear it. She spins her chair around, pointing back towards San Carlos Street. Nothing for it. She’s going to have to head back the way she came in, follow the river to the south. Perhaps there will be another way onto it. Of course, she could always call another cab. And how long is that going to take? Another hour? Two? Where do I even tell them to go?

“Are you OK?”

A startled grasp almost jumps out of Reggie. Her hand snaps to her pocket, where the knife is. Except: it’s going to take far too long to slip her fingers through the holes on the handle, far too long to lift it out and—

“Sorry,” the speaker says, hands up. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Reggie’s hand slows, then stops. The speaker is a woman in her mid-twenties, dirty blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She’s slight, but clearly in good shape, wearing a brown leather jacket and tight red sweater over jeans and Doc Martins. Reggie can’t help thinking there’s something a little off about her appearance. Mostly it’s her eyes, which are a little too big for her face.

“That’s OK,” Reggie says, glancing back towards San Carlos Street.

“Saw you trying to climb the hill.” The woman nods towards the slope. “Don’t know if there’s much of a view at the top.”

“I’m—”

Trying to get to the river. But how on earth does she say that without sounding like a complete lunatic?

The woman tilts her head. “Would you…? Do you need a push? I’m sorry if that’s not, you know, the right thing to say here…”

“No, no.” On a normal day, Reggie would resent someone trying to help. But since she’s not getting up that hill on her lonesome, she’ll take all the assistance she can get. “That’d be great. Please.”

“OK, sure. How should we—?”

“Just push me. I’ll disengage the motor.”

“You got it.”

The woman moves behind her, out of sight, grasping the handles on the back of the chair.

Finally, Reggie thinks. A little luck.

FORTY-TWOTeagan

Five miles. That’s it. That’s all we have do.

It’ll be an hour’s walk – maybe even less, if we hustle. A straight shot down the river around Alondra Boulevard, then through Compton to Leo’s uncle’s place. Then we just hope to hell his dad is actually there – or if he’s not, that Leo’s uncle is in a welcoming mood.

Plenty can happen in five miles. But as we head south from the interchange camp, I’m feeling… surprisingly good. Not in top shape, no way – not on a meth comedown, not after the night we’ve had. But we’ve had food, and water, and a chance to sit for a little while. No ambushes or gunfights in the past hour. Nic and I made nice. There is a chance we might actually make it through this – a small chance, but I’ll take what I can get.

Also, I didn’t have to spend long in the sewers under the freeway, doing my business. Maybe the people hanging out in there – and holy hell, a lot of people decided to set up shop in the tunnels – have gotten used to the smell. Not me. I can’t think about it without wanting to retch.

The storm drain is wide and empty, the river a straight channel right down the middle. There are still unbroken lines of flood barriers on each side, but Annie says there’ll be a few gaps the further south we get.

My PK isn’t back to normal, but the rest and the steak have helped. My little gas tank is probably back up to twenty-five per cent. I keep my PK alert for anybody approaching, but aside from a few homeless folk heading north to the camp, pushing shopping carts loaded with their belongings, there’s nobody we need to worry about.

Leo still can’t walk without limping, but he barely seems to notice. He sticks close to Nic, a few feet behind me and Annie. “Are we gonna be there soon?” he says, speaking so fast he almost trips over the words.

“Yeah, I think so,” Nic says breezily.

“I’m gonna make sure you can stay with, with my uncle.” Leo nods to himself, like he’s made a difficult decision.

Nic gives a noncommittal grunt. Then he says, “How’re the… wiggles right now? You good?”

“I’m OK!” Leo grins up at Nic, who returns it.

“No using your zaps,” I say over my shoulder. “I don’t want to carry you the whole way. You’re heavy.”

“I am not!”

“Hey, who’s done most of the carrying tonight anyway?” Nic says.

Leo looks worried. “But what if the Zigzag Man…?”

“Tell you what.” I slow down, so I’m walking beside him. “I’ll make you a bet. Whoever uses their powers first…” I falter, then it comes to me. “Gets a big, sloppy kiss from Nic.”

“Ugh!” Leo makes a disgusted, delighted face. I wink at Nic, who is trying very hard not to laugh.

“You guys done messing around?” Annie says. “We got a ways to go yet.” There’s an amused look on her face though, as if she too can’t help but feel a little lighter.

“OK, OK,” Leo says. “But I wanna show you something.”

“No, Leo,” I say. “I said no zaps.”

“Yeah but just one thing, OK?”

A few