Hard Bite by Anonymous-9

inside these stone walls—conducive for a good think. My mind roams over how Bushido warrior conduct inspired the code of the vigilante. Thugs kill randomly, or for anyone who pays them to kill—probably the modus operandi of the two stooges from yesterday, whoever they are. There might be some code for their band of thugs but it doesn't extend outside their clan. Rape, murder and pillage are fine outside their own community. Not so the knight, the samurai and the vigilante. Vigilantism is a response to the failure of law enforcement. The vigilante bridges a gap between violation and justice, a perp and his punishment. It's nothing new. I'm nothing new. I've said it before and I'll say it again: The circumstance I found myself in—broken in bed, crushed like a worm—gave birth to Vigilante Cripple Man so he could roll justice across Los Angeles, one hit-and-run driver at a time.
    Anyway, I can sleep in or I can apply energy to what really counts, my work. Even if we're on the lam, I need to keep working. I try to be quiet and reach for the backpack with the phone in it, but it bumps and rustles. Cinda wakes.
    "What are you doing?" One of her eyes squints at me.
    "I need to check my email."
    She looks at me like I'm daft. Takes a deep breath. "Dean, we need to get out of here."
    "We just got here. Your idea, by the way."
    "Out of Los Angeles."
    I know she's right. But I can't do it on my own and don't want to ask her.
    "You should leave me here now. Get out while you can."
    "I can't."
    I've never seen the set of her mouth like that. Seen it before in my wife, though. It means "not moving."
    "Why? I'll be gone sooner or later anyway. You know that. Save yourself."
    "We can still have some time together… until you go."
    There it is on the table. She's saying she won't leave. A strong man would drive her off, make her leave for her own good. A strong man would slap her silly. Instead I say, "I have cash in a safety deposit box at the bank. We can grab the cash and go."
    "Let's do it now."
    "Baby, it's Sunday. We just need to hang out till tomorrow morning when the bank opens."
    A couple of tears fall from her eyes but she wipes them away and straightens up. "I'll go back to my place and get a few things."
    ***
    While Cinda is out, a tap comes on the door. " Señor , is okay to clean the room?" I call out, "Sure, come on in." A lady with a bucket filled with spray bottles and cloths gives me a cheery smile. " Hola !" She props the door wide open. I guess that's the signal for Sid and I to vacate. It's a good time to take Sid out for a walk anyway. Get him acquainted with the environs of Pebley Mansion.
    ***
    Orella's heels click on the tile as she throws a jacket over her shoulders and marches to the front door. "Help me with the dogs," she says to Luis.
    She's not dressed for dog walking. Not in that pencil skirt with her hair teased high and curled. She looks ready for a Beverly Hills cocktail party. "Where you going?" he asks.
    "Bel Air."
    "With our dogs?"
    "That's where he is."
    Luis looks stupefied. "Where who is?"
    "Luis, think! We have eyes over the whole city. Our people clean homes, they take care of buildings and properties."
    "Some cleaning lady called you with a tip about the wheelchair guy?"
    "He's not hard to spot. A cash reward helped."
    "Bel Air! They got armed guards, surveillance. The streets are all the way up in the hills. There's no place to run."
    "You think I'm stupid?" She gives him a warning smile that could frost chilies.
    "No Mama."
    "Good. Because I don't want you to worry. Now help me with the dogs."
    She bustles to the back door. Luis exits behind her.
    "What gun you taking?" he asks.
    "After what happened to you, I'm going to use a gun?"
    On the top of the trash can is an empty vacuum-wrap package. Luis stares at the label: Certified Monkey Meat. Product of Argentina. He looks at the dogs waiting expectantly in their pen. "You been feeding them this?"
    "They love it."
    "There's none left.