Page 34 of Velvet and Valor
AXEL
When you’re a soldier in the hot zone, the most critical thing is to manage your fear. Fear leads to making bad decisions, which can get you killed faster than not doing anything at all.
You learn to deal with the fear of getting hurt. Even as the sounds of sneakers crushing broken glass into June’s living room carpet reach the bedroom, I can still hear my master sergeant’s voice.
If you get into a fight with guns, expect to be shot at some point. Once you get used to that idea, you can go ahead and act.
Living with the possibility that I might get hurt or even killed in a split second is something I did learn to live with, more or less. But one thing I never managed to get a handle on was when my fellow soldier’s butts were on the line instead of mine.
I’ll achieve the objective at the cost of my life if I have to, that’s my choice. But I don’t want anyone else to have to make that sacrifice. Especially not June.
I creep down the hallway toward the furtive sounds. Risking exposure, I peer around the corner into the living room. Twomen dressed head to toe in unrelenting black are crouching, their gazes swiveling about.
The larger of the two’s balding head and stooped posture mark him as the elder. His partner has the lean, lithe appearance of youth but he’s at least fifty pounds lighter, if not more. I decide to call them Baldo and Shorty in my head.
Baldo whips his gaze in my direction. I duck back, but not fast enough.
“There!”
The guttural urgency in the man’s voice makes it clear that he means business. I duck back down the hallway and race for the bedroom.
“We’re about to have company!” I shout as I enter the room. The intruders make their way down the hallway.
Everything seems to happen in slow motion. I turn my head and it feels like moving through mud. June stands there, mouth wide open as she stares at Baldo coming through the bedroom door.
“Down!” I manage to shout, pushing her onto the mattress. June bounces high but uses the momentum to move herself on until she’s hiding behind the bed.
I have no time to admire or congratulate her. Baldo rushes me, moving in a dark blur that’s hard to take in all at once. His grace belies his bulk. The gleam of light off the metal blade of his ax registers in my brain like fireworks.
It’s funny how your mind works in combat. I suddenly remember I have a gun in my hand, loaded, with the safety off. It’s even pointed his way. I squeeze the trigger, blasting off two shots. A soft grunt issues from Baldo’s mouth, a sharp contrast to the cacophony of the gunshots that knocked holes in his body.
But he still comes on, his momentum or maybe sheer determination carrying him forward. I use my gun to block theaxe blade, wincing at the grate of metal-on-metal. That’s not going to buff out.
We wrestle around the bedroom, knocking a lamp off June’s nightstand before crushing it to pieces under our feet. I can feel my opponent growing weaker. Baldo’s dark eyes grow glassy. My mind registers details rapid-fire, even as I try to keep him from deploying that nasty axe. Pacific Asian descent, most likely, but it’s hard to tell in the dark.
Axes are the trademark of the Tongs, the Chinese Mafia. It fits, but this is LA. Maybe it fits because someone wants us to think it fits.
My opponent staggers, going down to one knee. A wide dark patch on his chest grows before my eyes. Baldo’s lost too much blood to keep his feet.
“Sorry about this,” I grunt before smashing my knee into his chin. He folds like a wet blanket, but he still holds onto the axe even when he’s dying. Tough son of a bitch.
Shorty finally makes it down the hall. He stands in the doorway, eyes flashing between me, June, and his friend who is lying in a pool of blood.
His eyes grow furious. Shorty is younger than his dying friend, but he’s not impatient. He doesn’t rush in, even though he’s angry. I can tell he’s already planning the different ways he’s going to carve us up.
“Not today, asshole,” I growl, pointing the gun at him. “I’ve still got four shots left.”
I squeeze the trigger. Nothing happens, just a muffled click. A closer inspection of the gun reveals that when I used it to block the ax blade, I damaged the firing pin. It’s basically a paperweight now.
Shorty sees my dilemma and takes a step into the room. I throw the gun at him. He ducks, even though my throw goes badly wide and crashes into the wall beside his head. A picturefalls and thuds onto the floor, tinkling glass adding to the symphony of destruction.
My hand clutches around the floor for the axe. It has to be here somewhere. I don’t dare take my eyes off of this Tong guy. He’s waiting for the slightest opening, the slimmest chance to make me un-alive.
I don’t want to be un-alived today.
My hand closes around the axe handle at last. I leap to my feet, brandishing the weapon.
“Ha,” I say. “Now we’re even!”
