Stuart Kaminsky - Catch a Falling Clown

“The snake,” I said calmly.

“Snake? What the hell are you jaw-flapping about? You hit the bottle this morning?”

“In her lap,” I whispered to Alex.

He looked toward her lap and saw the snake.

“Coral snake,” Agnes said sweetly. “You’ll be dead in seconds if Abdul strikes.”

“Listen, Agnes …” I began, looking from Alex’s suddenly white knuckles on the steering wheel to Agnes’ eyes of green fire.

“What is going on up there?” complained Nelson, holding his gun up. “Alex, watch the damn road, and you two be quiet.”

“What would I do now if I was the killer?” Agnes said between clenched teeth.

I had the insane vision of my high school English teacher, Miss Routt. We called her Rutt. She prodded me to tell Agnes that she should use the conditional tense. “If I were,” I said to myself.

“I’d let Abdul sink his clean little fangs into your dirty leg,” she said. “But I’m not the killer.”

“I think I believe you,” I said.

“We all believe you, lady,” said Alex emotionlessly. He was weaving back and forth on the road. Nelson said something like “What the hell” and leaned over into the front seat to see what was going on. He saw Abdul and let out a yell. His gun went off, turning the windshield milky white and full of threads before it crumpled inward. Alex lost control, and the car turned sharply to the right. Nelson tumbled into the front seat as Abdul went flying into the air. I saw a green streak go past my nose through the window. I think I was upside down at the time.

Colors were flying together like blood or oil in a pool of water. A noise of metal against metal against metal against me stopped or almost stopped. Something was still grinding slowly. The car engine was turning over.

Someone was on top of me. From the weight, I knew it was Alex. I pushed and pushed with my free left hand until something gave way, and Alex floated upward, which surprised me until I decided that the car and I were upside down. My foot was through the roof.

“Nelson,” I croaked, looking around, but I didn’t see him.

“He went through the front window,” said Agnes below me. We were still handcuffed together. “Abdul is out there too.”

“Are you hurt?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” she said, getting to her knees. “Is the deputy dead?”

Alex was breathing evenly, and his eyes were fluttering. He didn’t look great, but he didn’t look dead or near it.

“I think he’s just stunned,” I said. “How about pulling me down gently? My leg went through the roof.”

We worked at it for a few seconds, and I came tumbling down. Alex broke my fall and groaned.

“Come on,” I said to Agnes, opening the car door. It creaked and slumped open. She followed me out.

“It will be easier if we hold hands,” I suggested. “The cuffs won’t rub us raw.” I took her reluctant hand. It felt comforting. Maybe Nelson, if he was alive, would hesitate to shoot us if we simply stood holding hands in the road.

“Let’s look for Abdul,” Agnes whimpered. “The poor thing is out of his native environment and friendless.”

“You just described Tobias Leo Pevsner,” I said. “Me.”

We found Nelson sprawled on a grass embankment about ten feet from the car. The gun was gone, and he was sitting and holding his head.

“Alex,” he groaned. “Where the hell is my hat?” He looked up at us standing in the road, and blurry hatred appeared. “I am going to find my gun and blast a hole in two escapees,” he vowed. On his knees like a mad animal, he began to scramble around, searching for gun, hat, and, possibly, Abdul.

“I think we better get the hell out of here,” I told Agnes.

She looked at the frenzied Nelson and nodded in agreement.

“Nelson, we didn’t kill anybody,” I said, hurrying down the road, across it, and toward a clump of trees.

“Stop,” he shouted, postponing his search and getting to his wobbly legs. He took a step toward us and toppled over. My last look back showed me Alex crawling out of the wreck. We ran through bushes, trees, scrub, and stones. No bullets followed us. I wouldn’t have heard footsteps over my own heavy breathing even if they were there. We ran and ran. I prayed for Agnes of a Thousand Snakes to ask for a rest. That was the way it was supposed to go, but she wasn’t even breathing hard.

“OK.” I stopped. “That’s it. I need a rest. You win.”

“You should stay in good condition,” she said.

“I thought I was.” I looked back the way we had come, but there was no sound and no sight of pursuit. We had done some zigzagging, and now I was sagging. I staggered to a rock that looked like a buried brown egg and leaned against it.

“Congratulations,” I said. “I think you just introduced the coral snake to Southern California. He’ll be right at home.”

Agnes looked at me coldly. “Tell me something,” she said. “Why the hell am I running?”

“Easy,” I said, trying not to sound winded because she didn’t. “You’re handcuffed to me and I’m running. If we can get you loose, you can run right back to those two. They’re going to have some questions about Abdul, me, and a couple of murders.”

“I didn’t murder anybody,” she screamed.

After pleading with her to keep her voice down, I went over her story. Actually, she didn’t have a story, just answers to my questions, and they were pretty good answers, which meant I was getting confused. I was also getting worried. Alex or Nelson could come crashing through the trees, guns ablaze, any second.

“So what do we do?” Agnes asked reasonably. “Where do we go?”

“That way,” I nodded, “and then south. They expect us to head north up the coast toward Los Angeles. Nelson will probably look for us himself for a few hours and then call in the state police. He won’t want to call them in, but maybe he’ll have to. They already know he’s an idiot. Then I’ll have to think of something. Like who the hell the killer is.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing, do you?” she said reasonably.

“Of course I do,” I said, pushing away from the rock, my right hand still clutching her left. “I’m wearing a jacket that doesn’t match my pants, holding the hand of a snake charmer in a sweat shirt, and running away from a sheriff who wants to blow my head off. How many people in the world can be that specific about what they’re doing?”

We went more slowly, but we didn’t stop until we came to a ridge. About fifty feet below us were jagged rocks, and just beyond them were the beach and ocean. There was no path, but there was enough brush to hold onto as we made our way down, which wasn’t very easy with one free hand each. Once Agnes slipped and let go of my hand. The cuffs cut into our wrists but kept her from going backwards while I clung to a rock. When we finally made it to the beach, we were both exhausted.

“Do you do things like this a lot?” she said.

“Not a lot, but it happens,” I admitted, looking out at the waves.

“Am I nuts, or do you look like you’re having a good time?”

“Maybe not exactly a good time,” I said, “but it beats sitting in the front room, reading the Times and watching the clock take your life away. I’m scared a lot, but I’m alive more than other people too.”

“Like snakes,” Agnes said sympathetically. “You know what they can do, and that’s why you want to be with them, show other people you can be that near death and like it.”

“Kindred spirits,” I said, helping her up.

She stood looking into my battered face with an amused smile. I kissed her nose.

“Your name really Sudds?” I asked as we started down the beach, walking on stones to keep from leaving prints.