The Hammer of God

52

R obert ran hard down a dark, narrow street, bullets cascading past his head like angry bees. Thorne, right at his side, turned around and dropped to one knee. On cue, Robert stood above her and both fired at the crowd, killing a few and wounding several.

“Break!” Robert yelled, and they both took off and bolted into an alley, a stampede of footsteps right behind them.

When they reached the middle of the alley, they each fell to one side.

Robert saw at least eight armed men running hard. He signaled Thorne with a finger up. Wait. Just a little closer. “Now!” They pointed, fired, and sent several men to heaven or hell, and the others diving for cover.

Those still alive shot back, but Robert and Thorne had the advantage and kept them pinned down.

“We can’t stay here!” shouted Robert, checking the alley for an exit.

When he turned around, he spotted more men coming up behind them.

Several stories up, fingers pointed down amid loud Italian chatter.

“Let’s get back out into the street!” screamed Thorne.

Robert reloaded. “Forward or back!”

Thorne reloaded. “To the front!”

On three, they both ran forward, bullets streaming past their heads, firing non-stop, screaming warriors, mowing down everybody in sight, as the men in front of them cried out in terror.

Robert picked up the rumble of car engines and sirens in the distance. “On my mark, let’s break to the right,” he told Thorne. “Three, two, one.” With one big hail of gunfire they sent a stream of bullets behind them and made a break down the right side of the street.

Halfway down two vehicles, one a police car, spun around the corner. Robert and Thorne kept advancing, firing, reloading, then firing some more. One of the cars swerved to avoid the gunfire, smashed into the side of a building and burst into flames.

A man leaned out of the police car, machine gun in hand. He fired a short burst, but Thorne was more accurate, killing the driver, who hit a parked car and launched his passenger, like a missile, through the windshield and a bakery’s front window.

Robert and Thorne kept running. The men behind them continued to chase. When Robert turned to fire, only three men remained. Thorne killed one, then another.

“Let’s go!” she yelled.

They turned a corner, the sound of more screeching tires and police sirens heading their way. Robert spotted an open door to an apartment building. “Thorne, over there!” he barked, pointing.

They both ran into the building and bounded up the stairs to the roof.

They looked down. Five cars parked and more armed men hopped out, searching every crack and crevice. Robert tapped Thorne on the shoulder. They sprinted to the edge of the roof and jumped to the next building. Five buildings down, they reached the end of the block and hid in the stairwell, listening closely to the commotion on the street.

“We can’t go back out there right now,” whispered Robert. “We’ll have to stay here for the night.”

Thorne agreed.

Robert pulled out his cell phone, but hesitated at the sound of voices on a rooftop three buildings over. Both of them reloaded. Robert peeked out and watched three men coming their way.

“We could head downstairs,” whispered Thorne.

“No, not yet, they’ve probably got it covered,” said Robert.

The men reached the building next to theirs. He and Thorne readied for another fight. One of the men jumped over to their roof, machine gun ready, laser sight beaming. Robert pulled the door shut, and they waited.

A loud voice called out in Italian.

“They’re pulling back,” whispered Thorne. “The real police are on their way.”

“Let’s stay put a little longer,” whispered Robert.

He dialed Father Kong and explained their situation. The priest suggested they sit tight for the night. “I’ll pick you up in the morning,” he said.