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

ramp toward the heavens.

Arthur laid Excalibur out onto the ground, wary of someone coming at him from within the crowd. Body taut for action, he released the hilt, stood erect, and stepped back from his only protection.

Lance hit the top of the ramp and shot out like a bullet over the bleachers. Below him, the kids looked up in amazement and excited recognition. Fingers pointed, hands clapped joyously. He heard his name called out.

But his gaze remained fixed on Arthur a short distance below. He yelled as loudly as he could, “Arthur, look out!”

Arthur turned at the sound of Lance’s voice, his face breaking into a joyous smile of relief at the sight of Lance floating toward him like an angel.

Santiago had Arthur’s chest square in his sights. He pulled the trigger.

Lance soared directly toward Arthur, his heart in his throat. The bullet struck him square in the back. He twisted grotesquely in midair, his face erupting in pain, his board sailing off without him.

Not yet sure what had happened, Arthur held out his arms, and Lance smashed right into him, knocking them both to the ground as another shot rang out, the bullet striking the concrete mere inches from Arthur’s head.

Panic gripped the crowd, and they dove for the ground.

The knights swelled into a close grouping around Arthur to protect him as he gently rolled Lance off of him. Reyna snatched up Excalibur and tossed it to Arthur, who grabbed the sword in one hand and pushed himself upright with the other.

Murphy called out orders into his radio and pointed to his men on the perimeter. He gesticulated wildly toward the Hall of Justice, and the cops took off running.

One of Arthur’s archers named Khom, a Cambodian boy from Long Beach, shoved his way through the circle. “Arthur!”

The king had started back toward Lance, but now stopped at this new interruption. “What is it, Sir Khom? Be quick!”

The panting boy gasped, “Some guy, he took Lady Jenny!”

Arthur whirled to where he’d last seen Jenny. She was gone.

“Where are they?”

“He shoved her into a big-ass limo, up the street.” Sir Khom pointed up toward Temple and Spring. An enormous Hummer limo could be seen driving away out of sight. “There!” the boy shouted. “There it is.”

Arthur made a lunge for Llamrei, waiting restlessly beside Chris, whose frightened gaze was fixed on the fallen, unmoving Lance. Arthur bent down to examine the boy he loved. A thin stream of blood trickled from Lance’s mouth, and a large pool had already begun spreading out from beneath him. His eyes flitted about, the vibrant green etched with searing pain. They focused on Arthur.

“Save her, Arthur,” he whispered. “Hurry.”

Arthur gazed at his beloved boy and marveled that, even now, he would think of others first. “I shall return to thee, my Lance.”

He rose and ran to Llamrei, deftly leaping onto her back, snatching the reins from a shell-shocked Chris and galloping hard through the crowd, which opened a pathway. Murphy barked orders into his radio, and several of the approaching police cars took off up Temple in pursuit of the limo.

The stunned spectators began rising to their feet, milling and confused, uncertain about what had just happened.

Chris dropped to his knees beside Lance and Reyna, who knelt by the wounded boy’s other side. Chris grasped Lance’s hand, gazed in shock at the blood pooling from beneath him, and began to cry.

Reyna gently cradled Lance’s head in her lap, lightly brushing his damp hair from around his face. He tried for a smile. “You mad ’cause I’m younger, prettier, can shoot, and skate better than you?”

Reyna swiped at the tears dripping down her face. “You crazy fool, had to play the hero, didn’t you?”

“Did I win the gold?”

She took his hand in hers and fought for control. “’Course you did. And you know why?” He shook his head weakly. “Cause I love you, that’s why. You couldn’t’ve done it without me.”

Lance smiled.

At that moment, Jack pushed through the circle, panting and heaving, and gasped when he saw Lance. And the blood. His breath nearly stopped, his heart in his throat.

“Oh no,” he said to no one in particular, his knees almost buckling beneath him. “No, it can’t be! Oh please, God, don’t let this happen!”

Reyna waved him over. “C’mon, Jack, he needs you.”

Jack stumbled forward and dropped to his knees beside Lance.

“We did it, huh, Jacky? We saved Arthur.”

Jack clenched and unclenched his fists, struggling to control his anguish. “Damn you, Lance, it wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was supposed to save you!”

Lance grinned. “Not if I saved you first.”

Jack stroked Lance’s soft, sweaty brown hair with trembling fingers. “Oh God, Lance, you can’t go, you can’t leave me.” Tears sprang to his eyes. “I need you too much!”

“It’s okay, Jacky,” Lance said quietly, “I can—” He coughed up a little blood, and Reyna gently wiped his mouth with her sleeve. “—I can tell Mark how much you loved him.”

Jack choked back a sob and turned his anguished gaze toward Reyna. They reached out to grasp each other’s hand, sharing the aching pain of their mutual love for this boy.

At that moment, Ryan and Gibson shoved their way through the crowd and into the circle, Ryan shouting, “Get back, everybody, stay back, give the boy some air!” He knelt beside Jack and gazed soberly at the wounded Lance.

Approaching sirens began to get louder. Ryan stripped off his rumpled jacket, gently moved Chris aside, and laid the jacket over Lance to keep him warm. “Don’t worry, son, help is on the way.”

Lance smiled up at the aged cop, his beautiful, angelic smile. “Thank you, Sergeant Ryan.”

Ryan nodded, but looked nauseous, as though watching Lance suffer was the worst thing he’d seen in his life.

Jack sat beside Lance, and Reyna allowed the devastated boy to take Lance’s head and cradle it. Chris took Lance’s hand again and sobbed into Jack’s shoulder. Reyna took Lance’s other hand.

“Hang on, cutie,” she said with a wink, her voice tight with fear.

Gibson stood gazing down at the wounded boy, the blood pooling around him, turned away in disgust and anger, and came face to face with his son. Justin was crying, something Gibson hadn’t seen him do since he was little. Father and son gazed at one another a long moment, and then Justin unexpectedly grabbed his father in a tight hug.

Caught off guard, Gibson let his boy do the hugging. He understood that Justin wasn’t crying only for Lance, but for everything that had happened in his life, for all the missed opportunities he and Gibson had had to connect, the way he had connected with Arthur. So finally Gibson did what he should have been doing all long—he hugged his son and whispered into the boy’s ear, “I love you, son. I always have.”

Ugly slashes of red and an ear-piercing siren signaled the arrival of the paramedics, who leapt from their vehicle almost before it stopped and ran to the wounded Lance.

Inside the limo, Jenny struggled against the Asian man’s iron grip. For such a small guy, he was incredibly strong, and she couldn’t break free. The two younger Asians sat stoically in the back of the limo, holding sections of cloth ripped from their shirts against bleeding neck wounds.

The third Asian, the one who’d kidnapped Jenny, sat calmly beside them, handgun at the ready, awaiting further orders.

A middle-aged Latino man sat across from Jenny holding a chunk of ice against his swollen, crooked jaw.

She glared at him with hate. “What do you want with me?”

He glowered, his eyes rolling with fury. “Bait, lady. Stupid kid got in the way. Your Arthur still lives!”

A thrill of joy and fear thrummed through Jenny’s nerves. Arthur lived! But which kid got in the way? What did that mean? She didn’t want to ask. She could see how unstable this man was becoming.

“Any sign of pursuit?” he asked the Asians in back.

“Just cops,” gurgled one. “No sign of him.”

“Get rid of the cops.”

The young Asian who’d grabbed Jenny put down the back window. Two police cars had barreled up Temple after them, and a third joined the chase from Spring Street. He slid his semiautomatic handgun out the window and began firing.

The pursuing police cars swerved as bullets flew at them from the fleeing The limo swung an ear-screeching turn onto N. Broadway Street, heading east. The police cars skidded around the corner to follow. Startled drivers swerved their cars to the side of the road to avoid a collision.

Suddenly, the driver rapped on the window separating him from the passengers. Latino guy pressed a button, and the window lowered.

“What is it?” he asked irritably.

“Straight ahead, sir!” the nervous driver called back over his shoulder.

Both the Latino guy and the Asian holding her leaned forward for a better view.

Arthur, his hair flying in the wind, galloped Llamrei straight down Broadway, crossing the overpass above the 101 Freeway, darting in and out of the swerving cars, on a nonstop collision course with the limo.

“Run his ass down!” Latino guy called out to the driver.

But then his grin dropped, for Arthur had raised a bow and arrow and aimed it straight at the limo. He let the arrow fly.

There was a thunk as the arrow struck the limo’s left front tire, and the car spun wildly out of control.

Arthur lowered the bow, snatched up Llamrei’s reins, and jumped the horse high into the air. The spinning, swerving limo passed directly beneath him and smashed into the concrete embankment of the overpass.

Arthur landed his horse safely and spun around.

The limo smashed through the overpass embankment, sending large chunks of broken concrete onto the freeway below.

The long black Hummer swung partway out above the freeway, its front end still on the roadway, but its rear teetering dangerously over the abyss. The sound of police sirens signaled the approach of the pursuing police cars.

Arthur spurred his horse toward the tottering limo.

As the car smashed into the guardrail, Jenny saw her chance and shoved the startled Asian away from her. The teetering car and spinning tires threw everyone off-balance. She fought madly for the door, instinctively kicking out with one foot and hearing a satisfying “umph” as she made contact with the man’s face. The door swung open, causing the car to teeter even more. The driver frantically gunned the engine, fighting to keep the vehicle on the overpass.

Jenny leaped from the car.

She tumbled hard onto the asphalt and looked up at the sound of pelting hooves. Before she could react, Arthur was upon her, his arm outstretched for hers. She stumbled upright and flung out her hand desperately. He grasped it in his and swung her sharply off the ground and into the saddle behind him, almost wrenching her arm from the socket. She nearly cried out from the searing pain, but bit it back with a groan.

Arthur galloped onward just as the limo driver righted the vehicle and gunned the engine in pursuit. Jenny glanced back to see one police car stopped at the overpass, but the other two still pursuing the damaged limo.

“Hurry, Arthur,” Jenny called out, glancing back over her shoulder. “They’re gaining!”

Arthur was an able horseman, but no horse could outrun a car, even one as wounded as the limo. A bullet whizzed past his head.