Damnedest thing Darryl had ever seen.
Tired as he was, he hadn’t been able to sleep. So he’d gone out wandering the city, hoping he’d eventually need to crash, but that hadn’t happened. Somehow he’d wound up in the West Eighties outside this bar he’d never heard of. Why this particular bar, he didn’t know. Almost as if he was on a string and the place had reeled him here.
So there he was, checking it out as maybe a good place to grab a brew and trying to figure out those dead plants in the window. He was just reaching for the door when he heard this loud bang! Darryl had done some hunting in his day and knew a gunshot when he heard one. And he’d just heard one.
And then this chinky guy comes stumble-running out of the alley next to the bar, crosses the sidewalk, and keeps on going between two parked cars right smack into the path of a delivery truck. The driver tried to stop, but he was clipping pretty good, so no way. Even if he’d been going slower—no way. The chink tried to stop but, again, no way.
Ba-boom!
As the chink went flying, his arms flapping at crazy angles, something flew out of his hand—long, metallic, propellering through the air. It landed point first with a shoonk! on the hood of a nearby Volvo wagon. No, not on the hood—through the hood and into the engine compartment.
Darryl took a few steps to check it out.
Be damned. A sword. And obviously a sharp one. What kind of blade can cut through a steel car hood like it was paper? One of those Jap swords like in the samurai movies, only this one—
“Fuck me!”
This one’s blade was all crudded up with little holes, just like the drawing Hank had shown him.
…if anyone sees it, bring it to me…I want it.
He glanced around. All eyes were on the scene of the accident, and the folks who weren’t just standing and gawking were rushing to help.
Great.
Just as he yanked it from the hood he saw a guy step out of the alley and check out the accident. He was holding his left shoulder and something dark was seeping between his fingers. Had he taken the bullet? And was he looking for the sword?
Keeping a tight grip on the handle, Darryl did a quick turn, positioning the blade along the length of his body to shield it from the guy. Then he began quick-walking east toward the park, unbuttoning his outer shirt and pulling it around the sword. It didn’t hide it completely, but at least he didn’t look like some nutcase ready to start chopping up pedestrians.
He’d duck into the park, wrap it in his shirt, then hightail it downtown to show the boss man what he’d found.
What was going on with his luck? Maybe not luck. Almost seemed like something was guiding him.
How cool was that?
The high point of his life since his dissimilation had been the praise and backclaps he’d received from Hank for finding his precious Dawn Pickering. He’d thought it couldn’t get any better than that, but maybe the best was yet to come. He couldn’t wait to see the look on the boss man’s face when Darryl handed him this sword.
Oh, yeah. Hank was gonna be tickled as all hell.