Children of the Knight - Michael J. Bowler (best books to read non fiction .txt) 📗

too? Methinks, Sergeant Ryan, that the people do not agree with your idea of justice.”

He raised a gauntleted hand and waved it over the heads of the cops and camera crews.

Ryan turned. Surrounding the police in a perimeter were angry-looking local residents, armed with kitchen knives, baseball bats, broom handles, metal poles, and tools. This standoff had now become three layers deep.

“Hellfire!” Ryan cursed and marched back to Gibson, allowing Esteban and Darnell time for a quick high five before raising their swords once more to a defensive posture.

Ryan grabbed the bullhorn from Gibson and turned it toward the newcomers. “You people go back to your homes. This is not your business!”

“Ry, you gonna get us killed,” Gibson muttered, eyeing the angry crowd with trepidation.

One of the tiny little ladies, a wrinkled, white-haired grandmotherly type, stepped forward, a wooden rolling pin clutched tightly in one gnarled fist. “The hell it ain’t! King Arthur an’ his knights dun too much fer us to let you pigs try an’ bully ’em! So you better get the hell outta here ’fore we kick you out!”

Cheers erupted from the ring of angry locals, and from the boys surrounding Arthur.

Ryan groaned, his ulcer attacking with a vengeance, and dropped down beside Gibson.

“Now we’re screwed,” Gibson confirmed in disgust.

Ryan eyed his partner, uncertain what he should do next.

Arthur glanced toward a tree flanking the road, and Lance followed his gaze to where Luis and Enrique crouched on a branch. Arthur nodded almost imperceptibly.

Luis had an arrow cocked, its tip wrapped in a gasoline- soaked rag, and Enrique squatted beside him brandishing a lighter. Enrique whistled like a bird, and four other duos in strategic trees around the perimeter of the parlor did exactly the same. Simultaneously, five rags were lit by five different hands, and then five flaming arrows shot forth from the trees toward the police barricade.

The arrows struck gas tanks on the police cruisers farthest from the people and cops. Arthur had been crystal clear in his directives—no matter their feelings toward cops, no one was to be hurt. To do so would destroy their crusade.

Five cars around the outskirts of the standoff exploded into massive fireballs, shooting flames skyward and sending cops and locals diving for the ground in fear.

Pandemonium ensued as the smoke from the burning vehicles blanketed the entire area, choking everyone with noxious fumes and effectively hiding Arthur and his knights from view.

“Knights, away!” cried Arthur, and the mass exodus began. He deftly leapt atop Llamrei and yanked Lance up into the saddle behind him as the boys scrambled from their positions and pelted through the smoke, some dodging choking cops along the way, and headed for their waiting cars and trucks. Those on bikes leapt into action, wheeling in and out of crashed and flaming police cars, past the confused local residents, and out to the freedom beyond.

The organization and speed of the exodus was astounding, especially since this was the first time it had been implemented. The kids, however, had assured Arthur that they all had plenty of experience running from cops, and he had taken them at their word.

Arthur did not budge, determined that every one of his knights should escape unscathed. As the cops recovered themselves and raised their guns toward the fleeing children, the locals rose up and stood between the police and the retreating kids, blocking any shot they may have had. The camera operators and reporters ran here and there, fighting to capture as much of the mayhem as possible.

Their swords now sheathed, Arthur sat calmly, with Lance nervously fidgeting at his back, until he saw no more of his knights trapped anywhere within the perimeter. Ryan and Gibson were on their feet, coughing and choking like the rest, but trying to contain the out-of-control situation.

“Don’t shoot, for God’s sake, they’re civilians!” Gibson barked as the locals pressed in more tightly.

Ryan gazed around him in despair and turned to peer through the billowing smoke at Arthur, still seated on Llamrei, calm and confident.

“Until our paths again cross, Sergeant Ryan,” Arthur said with a slight bow and then he spurred Llamrei into a fierce gallop, straight at the two men, almost dislodging Lance in the process. The boy gripped Arthur hard around the waist and clung for his life. The move was so sudden that Ryan and Gibson were forced to dive for the ground.

Ryan looked upward as Arthur’s horse muscled itself up and over them like an enormous white dove. The horse sailed clear over the men and the car before landing lithely on the other side. Both men jumped to their feet, Gibson pulling his gun and pointing it at the retreating horse and rider.

Ryan reached out and shoved Gibson’s hand down. “You crazy? He’s got a kid on the back!”

Gibson glared angrily at Ryan as Arthur disappeared through the smoke and out of sight. Then Gibson stalked over to the driver’s side of their car as Ryan simply gazed in amazement at the disappearing horse. Gibson reached into the car and snatched up the radio.

“This is Sergeant Gibson! King Arthur is heading for First Street, due west. He’s on horseback, and he’s got a kid with him.”

The dispatcher’s voice crackled over the radio. “Did you say he was on horseback?”

“That’s what I said!” Gibson repeated furiously. “Be careful of the kid, but get his ass!”

He threw the radio mic back into the car and glared over the roof at Ryan, who continued to stare at the spot in the smoke where Arthur had disappeared. He ignored Gibson completely, so astonished was he at the turn of events. How had one man done so much damage to the established order of the city in so little time?

He barely even noticed the news vans screeching out of the area in pursuit of the king. It didn’t matter, he knew. He and Gibson would hear from the mayor on this one.

Better refill that ulcer medicine.

As Arthur and Lance galloped furiously out of the neighborhood into the heavy traffic along First Street, astonished drivers actually stopped talking or texting on their cell phones to pause and gape in wonder. Shrieking police sirens alerted Arthur that they were under pursuit.

He glanced back over his shoulder and spied four police cars roaring into traffic from two different side streets and weaving erratically among the same startled drivers, who attempted to get out of the way. Some, however, made it a point to block the oncoming cops since, they’d apparently decided, a guy on horseback had to be worth helping.

Arthur spurred Llamrei on to an even faster gallop, deftly maneuvering between cars and trucks to put a little distance between him and his pursuers.

Clinging tightly to Arthur’s back, Lance kept glancing nervously over his shoulder, eyeing the flashing red lights and wondering how they could possibly get away.

“You want me to shoot at ’em?” he called to Arthur. He had his bow and arrows, after all.

“Nay,” Arthur called out, without turning his head. “Merely retain thy grip.”

Lance didn’t have to be told twice about that. Yeah, he’d been on this horse plenty of times, but never when they were fleeing for their lives, never when Llamrei was going this fast! As the horse pounded along the pavement and the wind whipped hair into his face and threatened to dislodge him, he decided this was much crazier than skating.

Arthur weaved and zigzagged through the heavy late-afternoon rush-hour traffic. A freeway overpass lay dead ahead. He spurred Llamrei, and they passed beneath the it.

On the freeway above them, people had stopped their cars along the shoulder to gawk at the strange sight. Some were even out of their cars cheering as horse and riders passed underneath. Many had their cell phones out, snapping pictures or shooting video. One teenaged boy flipped the middle finger at the police cars that followed.

As they approached a street called Pecan, Lance spotted two more police vehicles heading straight for them. Arthur quickly yanked the reins to the left and aimed Llamrei down the much smaller, less trafficked street. He steered Llamrei straight down the center line. To their right was a large expanse of grass and some buildings, with people, both old and young, out strolling or playing games. They stopped to gawk as Arthur and Lance flew past on a streak of white.

The next street, Lance saw, was Third. Arthur whipped Llamrei to the right and galloped full tilt past the Spanish-style Dolores Mission Catholic Church, where a wedding was in progress. The bride and groom and their families, standing on the steps of the famous landmark, turned to casually observe the horse and riders galloping past.

Arthur pelted down Third Street, dodging light traffic. Lance knew Arthur had no idea where to go or how to elude the pursuing police cars, and neither did he.

“Do you have thy cell phone?” Arthur shouted against the wind.

“Yeah,” Lance called back, releasing his right hand from Arthur’s back and cautiously slipping the smartphone from his pocket. He gripped the king tautly with his left hand and fought for balance as the up and down bouncing motion threatened to dislodge him. “What now?”

“Use your Internet wizard to locate where we be and what may be near to us!” Arthur called back, the wind practically yanking his voice away. “We need a place to hide.”

Lance opened the Internet and used the satellite map to locate their position. It seemed to take forever as the sound of sirens echoed all around them, and the up and down pounding motion of Llamrei’s galloping strides gave Lance the beginnings of a splitting headache.

Finally, their location appeared on the screen, and he studied it as best he could with his head bobbing up and down. “Not good, Arthur. We’re coming up to a dead end, and after that’s the river!”

“Be it possible, ye think, to jump the river?” Arthur called out, very serious.

Lance’s mouth fell open, his heart in his throat. “No way, Arthur, not less Llamrei can fly!”

“What else did you find?”

“There’s railroad tracks right before the river,” Lance shouted back, an idea forming in his mind. “Hey, Arthur, they got big-ass train cars out there! We could hide in one a them!”

Arthur nodded.

Lance slipped the phone back into his pocket and clutched Arthur tightly with both arms. Just in time too. As they reached Mission Street, he spotted a huge steel factory just on the other side and more police cars plowing down Mission to cut him off.

“Hang on, Lance!”

Before Lance could even respond, Llamrei was airborne, soaring upward with a thrust of her powerful legs. As Lance looked down he saw her left rear hoof crack the flashing red light of a police car passing directly beneath them. Then they were down, off the road, and into the steel company parking lot. The police car they’d jumped slammed on its brakes and ended up colliding with the oncoming cars from Third Street in a crescendo of crunching metal and screeching tires.

“What now, Arthur?” called Lance.

“Into that building!” Arthur yelled, pointing to a massive warehouse looming ahead. The truck doors were open, and Arthur easily navigated Llamrei through them. They found themselves within a large, machine-filled warehouse with towering shelves for finished products and massive machines for grinding, cutting, and welding of steel. It was late in the day, so most of the workers had apparently gone home. The one man they encountered gaped in astonishment as the white horse carrying two riders galloped frantically past his workspace.

Exiting the back of the