“Get in the driver’s side,” Herbert told her as he started to pull himself in. “The keys are still in the ignition.” Some of the ralliers had begun to shout. One of the neo-Nazis in the line had gotten up. She was holding a gun.
She aimed at Jody.
“Shit,” Herbert said and fired through the window. Jody screamed and clutched at her ears. Hebert’s shot struck the German in the thigh and she was thrown backward behind a splash of blood.
Herbert got back out of the car and into his wheelchair and covered her retreat from behind the open door. Jody got into the car, started the engine, and gunned it. The young woman was no longer composed. She was shaking and breathing heavily, exhibiting a classic post-stress breakdown.
Herbert couldn’t afford to lose her. “Jody,” he said, “I want you to listen to me.” She began to cry.
“Jody!” “What!” she screamed. “What, what, what?” “I want you to back the car away slowly.” She was gripping the wheel and looking down. The mob was roiling like ants behind the prostrate front line. In the distance, Herbert could see the speaker talking with a woman. It was only a matter of time, maybe just seconds, before they were attacked.
“Jody,” Herbert said patiently, “I need you to put the car in reverse and back away very slowly.” Herbert knew that he wouldn’t be able to get in the car without lowering the gun. And lowering the gun, they’d be attacked. He took a quick look back. As far as he could tell in the dark, the terrain behind him was clear for several hundred yards. His plan was to let the open car door move him and the chair backwards, allowing him to keep the gun trained ahead as they retreated. When they were a safe distance away, he’d pull himself in and they could drive off.
That was the plan, anyway.
“Jody, are you listening?” She nodded, sniffled, and stopped crying.
“Can you drive us back slowly?” With painful slowness and uncertainty Jody put her hand on the gearshift. She started to cry again.
“Jody,” Herbert said calmly, “we’ve really got to go.” She moved the lever just as the front tires exploded.
The car left the ground as they blew up, chewed apart by a burst of gunfire from somewhere ahead. The open door flopped back, slapping Herbert toward the rear of the car. A moment later gunfire from a semi-automatic began eating into the open door. The crowd had parted to make a path and a woman was holding the weapon under her arm. As Lang had said— was it only that morning?— “This can only be Karin Doring.” Herbert rolled back. He opened the rear door, got behind it, and fired a burst from around the side. That kept the front line pinned down though it didn’t stop the woman.
She was coming as inexorably as winter.
Jody was crying. Herbert saw the guns in the backseat.
He also saw something else there, something he could use.
He fired another few rounds at the mob, then said, “Jody. I need you. to cover me.” She shook her head. He knew she had no idea what he was saying.
Bullets slammed into the front door. A couple more bursts and they’re goin’ right through, he thought. Then they’d penetrate his door and after that they’d penetrate him.
“Jody!” Herbert screamed. “You’ve got to reach through the partition, take the guns from the backseat, and shoot.
Shoot, Jody, or we’re dead!” The young woman was squeezing the wheel.
“Jody!” She continued to cry.
Desperate, Herbert turned toward her and put a round into the seat beside her thigh. She screamed and jumped as feather-light padding flew up, then drifted down.
“Judy,” he repeated. “Take the guns and shoot Karin Doring or she will goddamn own you!” The student turned to him, wide-eyed. Apparently that she understood. Turning determinedly toward the back, Jody stretched through the open partition and grabbed the two guns.
“Release the safeties,” Herbert said, “the little latches on the—” “Got them,” Jody said.
He looked at her as she sniffed back tears. Then he watched as she fired a burst at the windshield, leaned back against the seat, and kicked out the shattered expanse of glass with a yell.
“Amazing,” he said under his breath. “Gauge your fire!” he cautioned as he leaned into the car. “Conserve ammo!” He kept an eye on the front line of neo-Nazis as he picked up the six sparkling water bottles and put them. in the leather pouch of his chair. As Karin Doring neared, the line grew bolder and one of the men rose.
“Bastard!” Jody screamed and shot at him.
The shot went wide, but the German dropped.
Herbert shook his head. I’ve bred myself a little killer here, he thought as he twisted the bottle caps from two of them and spilled the contents onto the ground. When they were empty, he rolled back a few feet and used his Urban Skinner to cut a section of gray tubing from the left wheel of his chair. Even Karin Doring wouldn’t be able to walk through a wall of fire.
Bullets scudded across the hood of the car and ricocheted off. Jody threw herself to the far left. Obviously realizing she’d trapped herself against the door, she dropped to her right side. A moment later bullets ripped through the car and buried themselves in the backseat.
“Jody,” Herbert yelled, “push in the cigarette lighter!” She did, then ducked back down. Herbert knew she wasn’t going to be getting up again.
Karin was about three hundred yards away. Apparently sensing that they were safe, the other Germans began moving forward.
By this time, Herbert had opened the gas tank and was siphoning fuel into the bottles. Bullets began striking the car with greater frequency. Flashes rose from different parts of the crowd. In about half a minute, he and Jody were going to be Mr. and Ms. Frankenstein in the hands of angry villagers.
He heard the click of the cigarette lighter. Jody wasn’t going to be able to help him. Rolling forward quickly, seeing far too much firelight through the perforated front door, Herbert reached through the front passenger’s side and pulled up some of the stuffing from the bullet-ridden seat.
He set one of the bottles on the floor and jammed the stuffing into the other. Then he snatched the cigarette lighter from the dashboard, touched it to the padding, watched as nothing happened.
And realized with horror that the damn stuff was flame resistant.
With an oath, he pushed the padding in partway. Then he dropped the lighter into the bottle and threw it with a high, arcing stiff arm. He prayed the wadding would fall.
It did. The Molotov cocktail exploded in mid-flight, showering the front of the mob with flaming droplets and shards of glass. Screams rose from where the burning splashes struck flesh or eyes.
Jody looked up from the seat. Her fear was replaced by amazement. Her gaze shifted from the fireworks to Herbert.
“I’m out of bombs,” he said as he pulled himself in. “I suggest we move.” Herbert shut the door as best he could as Jody backed the limousine away. Ahead, Karin Doring pushed through the crowd, firing after the car. Other guns joined in.
“Oww—” Herbert looked to the left as Jody moaned. She slumped toward him. The car slowed, then stopped.
He leaned over, saw that she’d been hit in the shoulder. Outside the rib, it looked like, under the clavicle.
She was panting, her eyes pressed tightly together. He tried to shift himself so her arm was resting on his shoulder and there was no pressure on the wound. As he moved himself and her, he saw the cigarette pack in the pocket of her blouse. He quickly removed it, and his heart jumped when he saw the matches tucked in the cellophane wrapper.
Laying Jody down on the seat, he scooted to the right, picked up the second bottle from the floor, and nestled it between his thighs. Kann had cleared the mob and was reloading her semi-automatic. Herbert pulled out his handkerchief, jammed it in the bottle, and struck a match.
He touched it to the fabric, which flamed and disintegrated faster than he had expected.
“Either they don’t burn or they freakin’ immolate you,” he said as he leaned out the door and chucked the bottle toward Karin.
The glass cracked audibly as the gasoline spread. A flame sparked, spread, and rose up. Like organ music, Herbert thought.
He turned immediately to Jody. She was holding her shoulder. He knew that the area would pretty much have gone numb, and the worst pain she would feel was when she moved.
Herbert folded his chair and pulled into the car, largely so he could have the phone if he needed it. He wasn’t sure if the phone in the limousine had survived the gunplay. Then he helped Jody up.