Valknut: The Binding (35 page)

“No,” Lennie whispered. She pulled weakly
against the iron fingers around her wrists. Monte only squeezed
tighter.

“Finish him,” he ordered.

The Ragman nodded and leaned over Bones,
knife readied for a killing blow. Before he could strike, a man
hurtled into the jungle, moving so fast that Lennie saw only the
flash of buttons on a dark jacket.

Junkyard.

The Ragman saw him too late. Junkyard slammed
a fist into the side of his neck and the gangbanger dropped to the
ground, quivering.

Monte glared at the twitching gangbanger.
“Oh, Fenrir will not be pleased.”

He seemed to have forgotten about Lennie. The
yellow haze cleared and her strength came flooding back. She drove
her knee upward, this time catching him squarely. He buckled and
let go of her. She reached for her pocket and pulled out the
switchblade.

“
Best not try to use it for anything but
show
,” Junkyard had said earlier in the day, after a futile
effort to show her how to use it. “
Or it’ll most likely end up
in your own hide.
”

Maybe. Or maybe not. The knife had heft. Like
a roll of quarters.

Before Monte could recover, she drove her
loaded fist into his stomach. The breath whooshed out of him and he
doubled over, falling to his knees. He reached for her, his mouth
working in airless gasps. Wishing for steel-toed boots, she landed
a roundhouse kick to the side of his head. He toppled and curled
like a stunned wasp.

Lennie stood over him, panting. An unnatural
silence fell over the jungle.

“I’m impressed.”

She whirled, ready for another attack, but
Junkyard was the only other person still standing. He looked her
over, raw relief clear on his face.

“When that guy had you like that, I thought
he was going to—” He swallowed hard and turned his head away.

“Yeah, I thought so, too.” She scanned the
wreckage around her, grateful that everything was colored in normal
nighttime shades of grey.

Junkyard gestured at her hand and said, “I
think you can put that away now.”

Lennie looked down. Her fingers were clenched
so tightly around the closed switchblade that the skin over her
knuckles looked ready to split. She grinned sheepishly. “Never had
a chance to open it.”

Swearing colorfully, Soo came to her knees.
She shook her head, blinking, as though trying to focus. Lennie was
having a bit of trouble with that herself. Feeling light-headed and
twitchy, she stepped carefully around Monte and made her way to
Soo’s side.

“Are you all right?”

Soo’s voice rasped harshly. “Ah feel like Ah
been knocked down by a two-ton wreckin’ ball.”

Bones groaned and tried to sit up. His face
was grey above his beard and blood smeared his forehead. Junkyard
knelt beside him and gently pushed him back. “Easy there, big
guy.”

Bones winced and peered up at him. “Oh, it’s
you. Still uglier than a warthog’s ass, I see.”

Junkyard’s smile couldn’t hide the worry.
“Good to see you, too, Happy Chef. Looks like someone tried to
fillet you, though. Mind if I have a look at your backside?”

“Guess not.” Bones’s face twisted in sudden
pain. He drew a ragged breath and glared at Junkyard through a
half-opened eye. “But you have to pay a dollar, just like everyone
else.”

“Put it on my tab.”

Though Junkyard leaned into him, doing most
of the work, Bones’s jowls bulged with the strain of rolling to his
side. A dark, wet stain soaked the pavement where his back had
been. He lay panting while Junkyard undid his overalls’ strap and
peeled back the denim. There was a lot of blood—enough to soak
Bones’s t-shirt and obscure the actual cut. Lennie’s head swam at
the sight and her legs felt wobbly.

Junkyard gently pulled the shirt away from
the wound. Breath hissed through Bones’s teeth. “Damn, that
hurts—why don’t you just piss on it, while you’re at it.”

“Quit yer gripin’ and let the man work,” Soo
said. Her gaze flicked worriedly from Bones to Junkyard.

The gash ran like a bloody river from Bones’s
lower back through the waistband of his boxers. It was easily the
worst injury Lennie had ever seen. Her legs buckled and she sat
abruptly while Junkyard examined the wound more closely.

“It’s a good thing you’re so fat,” he said.
“That knife didn’t come close to any major organs. Soo, can you
bring your truck around? I want to get him out of here before
anything else happens.”

“Ah’d like to, but those punk bastards
flattened all four tires. We’ll have to carry him someplace safe
an’ go fer help.”

Something scraped pavement at the edge of the
jungle. The Ragman dragged himself upright. Soo swore and lurched
to her feet. Sneering, the Ragman held up a cell phone. Before
anyone could move, he staggered away, into the dark.

“Shee-it! Better wrap up that slab o’ bacon,
Junkyard. Ah think the dogs are comin’!”

Lennie scrambled to her feet. Her arms ached,
she could hardly breathe through her nose, her tailbone felt
bruised, and pain shot through her pinkie toe like it had been
snapped off backward. She had never been less interested in
running. But she wasn’t interested in staying, either.

Junkyard draped Bones’s arm over his
shoulders and tried to heave him upright. “Come on, big guy—time to
go.”

Bones tried to rise, but fell back with moan,
his face contorted with pain. Junkyard braced himself to try again
and Lennie moved to his other side to help. Harsh voices shouted
across the parking lot. Feeling an urgent, renewed interest in
running, Lennie hauled on Bones’s arm. He shook her off
angrily.

“Hear that?” he wheezed. “That’s the cavalry,
and it’s not on our side. Now, leave me and get the hell out of
here.”

Junkyard shook his head. “Can’t do. They’d
split you like a roasted hot dog.”

“Only if they think I’m alive, and right now,
there’s nothing I’d like better than to play dead.”

Bones shifted his bulk back onto the stained
pavement, let his arms flop ad hoc, and locked his eyes open,
unfocused. He looked very dead. Then he winked up at them and said,
“Laying here beats the hell out of trying to out-run a bunch of
teenaged punks. Now go.”

The voices were getting closer. Junkyard
stared into Bones’s eyes. The fat man gazed back calmly. “It’s all
right, Junkyard,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.
“I’ll be fine. Go.”

Junkyard nodded once and turned away. Soo
gave Bones a long, worried look. Then she ran to her truck, flung
the door open, and grabbed her guitar off the seat. Junkyard
frowned and started to say something, but Soo cut him off. “Ain’t
no way I’m leavin’ Woody for those punks.”

With a growl of exasperation, Junkyard took
off across the parking lot. Soo followed, Woody banging discord on
her back. Lennie hesitated, looking back at Bones. “But we can’t
just leave you!”

Bones lifted his head. His eyes blazed at her
above a bristling beard. “I’m safer if you leave, dimwit! Their
coming after 
you
, so put a rabbit in your ass and
hightail it out of here.”

He dropped back into the dead position.
Looking past his sprawled body, Lennie could just make out dark
forms emerging from the carnival at the far end of the parking lot.
Swearing to herself, she turned and ran.

Halfway to the tent village, she heard a
shout and slowed to risk a look back. The streetlight at the center
of the pavement lit the jungle like a stage. Monte was on his feet
amid the wreckage. Two new gangbangers had joined him. One of them
leaned over Bones and prodded him with his foot. Monte turned his
back on them and stared out into the dark. Nose in the air, he
rotated his head slowly, as though trying to catch a scent. Two
pinpricks of yellow light stared from his face, tracking across the
pavement. They stopped when they reached Lennie, fixing on her in
the dark. He pointed.

“She’s there.”

He didn’t raise his voice, but Lennie could
hear him perfectly. The gangbanger standing over Bones straightened
and pointed an arm at her. Something metallic glinted in his hand.
The hairs at the back of Lennie’s neck prickled unpleasantly. “He’s
got a gun!”

She was in the middle of an empty parking
lot, without even a tree for cover. The gangbanger aimed down his
arm.

And the fat body lying at his feet
jack-knifed, taking his legs out. Gunshot cracked wildly
overhead.

“Don’t shoot them, you idiot,” Monte
screeched. “El Lobo wouldn’t like it if you hit the girl.”

“Lennie, get moving!” Junkyard and Soo had
stopped a few yards ahead. Before Lennie could follow them, there
was a loud pop of gunfire.

“Bones!” Soo’s face twisted in horror. She
started back toward the jungle, but Junkyard wrapped his arms
around her, guitar and all.

“No—let me go.” Woody rang hollowly as Soo
tried to wrench free, but Junkyard held her tight.

“You can’t go back there, Soo.” His voice was
soft, but urgent. “Bones’s best hope is for us to draw them away
from him.”

“Uh, seems to be working.” Lennie fought
panic as the three men charged into the shadows. “They’re
coming.”

Junkyard didn’t let Soo go until she stopped
struggling. She stared back at the jungle, anguish clear on her
face.

“Soo—”

“All right, dammit,” she snarled. “Let’s
go.”

Chapter 21

They didn’t stop running until they reached
the chain link fence bordering the train yard. Gasping for air,
Lennie clasped her hands behind her head and forced herself to take
a few long, slow breaths. Soo was in worse shape. She lowered her
guitar to the ground and crouched beside it with her head down. Her
bleached hair hung like mop strings around her tear-streaked
face.

They had lost the bad guys in the tent
village, but Lennie knew it wouldn’t take them long to show up. She
scanned the train yard while Junkyard searched for a break in the
fence. Exhaust hung heavy in the air. A diesel unit idled somewhere
in the iron forest, hissing and popping, full of metallic
complaints. Flood lights created pockets of deep shadow between
cars. Anyone could be hiding there. Or any thing.

“What are we doing here?” Lennie said, still
breathing hard.

“Hear that train?” Junkyard wiped sweat from
his forehead and pushed aside the shrubbery along the fence. “It’s
all hosed up and ready to go. There’s a break in the fence
somewhere around here. As soon as I find it,” he tugged at a
section, “we’re getting on board. You’re going home.”

“What? No—I’ve got to find my dad!”

“Not this trip.”

“But you don’t understand—”

He waved her off. “We don’t have time to
argue. Those ’bangers’ll be here any minute.”

“Dammit, my dad is—”

Junkyard turned on her, his fists
half-raised. She shied back.

“Don’t you get it? Those ’bangers are looking
for you. People are getting hurt because of you—good people.”
He slammed the fence with an open hand. The chain link shook loudly
and she almost missed his next words. “I’m not letting you hang
around until you’re dead, too.”

She understood, then; it wasn’t just “people”
that needed her to leave. Junkyard needed her to leave.
That realization stung more than she expected.

But people might get hurt if she left, too.
Her father. The whole world, if she wanted to believe Ramblin’
Red. 
Fenrir ain’t gonna kill you
, he’d
said, 
but you can stop him.

She had a deep lack of desire to meet up with
Fenrir. But did she have a choice?

“Oh, fer cryin’ out loud. We cain’t go.” Soo
rose to her full corn-stalk height. Her face was pale and grim.
“What about Jungle Jim? Ah cain’t believe yer leavin’ him
behind.”

Junkyard’s back stiffened and he said nothing
for a long moment. Then he slumped and pressed his forehead against
the chain link.

“Jim’s dead,” he said in a flat voice. The
air seemed to die around his words. “I saw them carry the body from
Bill’s house. Place was crawling with police. They don’t show up
like that for a heart attack.”

For a moment, the only sound was the steady
grumble of the diesel unit. Then Woody slipped from Soo’s fingers
and hit the grass with a hollow bong. The strings rang unpleasantly
until the sharp hiss of air brakes swallowed the noise.

Lennie felt faint. That sweet, innocent man.
“And Bill?”

“They only brought one body out.” Junkyard
shot an angry look at Lennie, as if he thought she were to blame.
He yanked roughly at a section of fence. The chain link whipped
back, almost hitting him in the face. He caught it and held it
open. “Time to go.”

The diesel unit began to ease forward.
Couplers stretched, rattling in sequence as freight cars jerked to
life. Soo bowed double and squeezed through the gap in the fence,
but Lennie shook her head. “Uh-uh. Not happening. I told you last
night, I’m never catching onto a moving train again.”

The air throbbed as electric motors struggled
to gain momentum. Soo slung the guitar over her shoulder. “Don’t be
silly, girl. It’s pokin’ along slower than a dead armadillo.” She
nodded toward the street behind Lennie. “Besides, the bad guys are
here.”

Instinctively, Lennie crouched behind the
shrubs and peered back the way they had come. A pack of shadowy
figures paused between streetlights, two blocks down the road. She
could make out the glint of chain on denim, the flash of a white
tank shirt under an open jacket...and the faint gleam of yellow
where eyes should be.

Monte.

Even in the dim light, he looked ready to
come apart. The torn flap of scalp stood out like a feather in his
hair. Blood stained his puffy face and his head twitched with a
spastic rhythm. Yet there he was, running the pack, his nose in the
air as if sniffing her out.