Gates Of Hades

Chapter Fifty-four

Hillwood

4155 Linnean Avenue

Washington, D.C.

0801 EDT

Them cars was no presidential caravan; Shirlee could see that. Two District police cars 'n, a black SUV with blue lights behind the grille. 'Bout the time Shirlee made that determination, the mens in the suits was listenin' to their earpieces. She couldn't hear them, of course, but their hands went up to the little devices like touchin' the things would make them louder.

"Say again?" one of the mens said, his forehead wrinkled like he was hearing some sorta foreign language.

At the same time, the cars sqealed to a stop and men both in uniforms and suits came pourin' out like they was on fire. Shirlee was pretty sure she had enough doughnuts an' pastries, but these mans weren' interested in breakfast. Instead, two or three of 'em were carryin' guns an' the rest of 'em shovels.

Shovels?

Like they gonna garden?

Now?

Sho' 'nuff, while the mens with th' guns were lookin' 'round like they 'spected some kinda trouble, the others were digging at them ugly little plants jus' outside the dinin' room.

Then things got crazy.

One of them men who'd watched the plantings all week come screamin' outta the house, waiving this long, curved knife. He not be too smart, tryin' to cut the man with the gun, who shot him right there.

'Bout that time two more Russians-or whoever they was, ones been in and out the kitchen all mornin'-they pulled guns outta the drawers of the sideboard where Shirlee guessed they done hid 'em sometime in the las' few days. The two mens with the things in they ears, they got no guns, 'cause nobody 'sposed to have weapons on 'em for this conference. Still, they rush the mens with guns. There be two, three shots, so loud in the room Shirlee's ears ringin' and she stone-deaf. An' one o' the mens in suits, lyin' on the floor bleedin' bad.

The other Russian, he swing his gun around at Shirlee and shot. First she just feel a burn in her shoulder. Mutha-fucker done put a hole in her clean, starched uniform, one she done spent half the night ironin'!

Then it hurt. Oh, shit, did it hurt!

That same dude, he turn toward the other man in the suit, gonna shoot him, too.

Even months later, Shirlee was unclear exactly what happened next. She thought she remembered reaching with her good arm for the big coffee urn, the one she couldn't hardly lift with both hands. She definitely remembered the clunking sound of that big pot hitting the Russian's head. She remembered thinking that she was in the shit now, coffee an' blood all over the rug along with one very unconscious Russian.

Then it all went black.

Next thing Shirlee knew, she was still in the dining room but she was strapped to a stretcher. A woman in a pale blue uniform with ems stitched on the pocket was standing over her, holding some kind of bottle attached to Shirlee's arm. Two men in their light blue uniforms were lifting the stretcher.

Shirlee tried to sit up but couldn't, either 'cause of the straps or because she jus' didn' have the strength.

"Lemme outta here," she croaked, surprised she could manage no more than a whisper. "Who gonna take care my kids tonight, I ain't home?"

"I will," said someone behind her. She thought she recognized the man's voice from somewhere but couldn't quite place where.

"Who that?" she asked.

A man in a suit stepped into view. The light from outside was in her eyes, so she saw no more than a silhouette. "Your children will be my personal guests until you're up and around."

He moved and Shirlee thought she was seein' things, sure. She was lookin' into the smilin' face of the president hisse'f.

"You're a very brave woman, Ms. Atkins. Without you, there'd be some children without their fathers tonight."

It was then that Shirlee realized it hadn't been the sun bliridin' her; it was lights around a man holdin' a camera. Shit! Her one time on TV an' she gotta look like hell.

The president leaned over, taking one of her hands in both of his. "Your children will be well cared for. It's been since when, Jimmy Carter, that there was a small child in the White House? When you get out of the hospital, You'll come for dinner?"

At first Shirlee thought he wanted her to serve dinner. Then she realized he meant as a guest.

She'd be goin' to eat with th' Man hisse'f! Weren't that sumthin'? He wasn't foolin' her none. She knew he'd have his pitcher taken with her, meybbe get a few more black votes, but she didn' much care. Her babies were gonna have somethin' they'd talk 'bout rest of they lives.

And Shirlee?

Well, the folks down to the projects where she used to live would see she really had gone a long way, wouldn't they?