Page 33 of New Storm Rising
“No,” Mr Ambrose agreed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out something long and cylinder-shaped. “But this will.”
Flames sizzled and, a moment later, the lit stick of dynamite sailed over the wagon.
What the ever-loving f—
KA-BOOM!!
“All right,” I breathed, my ears ringing. “I’m neverevergoing to complain again that you’re too quiet.”
“Come on, before the dust clears and they can see again!” His hand grabbing mine, Mr Ambrose pulled me to my feet and into a narrow side street. We ran, the sound of the chaos behind us slowly fading into the distance. Halfway down the alley, Mr Ambrose pulled something out his pocket again and—
“Oh no! No you don—”
KA-BOOM!
Crap, crap, crapola, crapunzel! Oh, please let my ears survive this! And the rest of me!
Mr Ambrosive Explosive sent the dynamite flying over the house beside us, blowing up the street behind us and sending another cloud of dust in all directions, blocking the sight of our pursuers.
“This way!”
We dashed around another corner, vaulted over a low brick wall and ducked through some bristly old bushes. Behind us, the thundering footsteps got louder.
“Down there!” Mr Ambrose hissed, pointing down a narrow staircase to the cellar door of the abandoned house we had ended up next to. Leaping down three steps at a time, I pressed myself against the wall and held my breath. Mr Ambrose was right next to me, somehow managing to be ten times as quiet while still breathing regularly, darn him!
Above us, thundering footsteps approached.
“Where se hell are sosebastardos?” a voice with Spanish accent bellowed. “And did any of you see seir faces?”
“One had his face covered,Señor. But I sink I recognized se other one. Should we go after sem?”
“¡No!We’ll just go to se sheriff’s office. He’s in our pocket, remember?”
“¡Oh si!Let’s go! With se reinforcements we’ll get, we’ll turn sem into mincemeat!”[12]
And off they ran, leaving me behind to stare holes into Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
“So…” I enquired sweetly, raising one eyebrow, “is this how your brilliant plan wassupposedto go?”
“Naturally.”
“And nothing has gone the teensiest-weensiest bit wrong?”
“Certainly not. Come. It’s time for stage two.”
***
Back in the saloon, a diminutive figure with a case under one arm rose to his feet and cautiously lifted one hand.
“So, um…would anyone be interested in purchasing some Fizzlewiz Fabulous Wound Salve? Today, specially on sale for only $4.99.”
Silence reigned.
***
“So…” I enquired, eyeing the poster on the wall in front of us “This, I presume, is supposed to be stage two of your plan?”
“Indeed.”
