“What do you want, girl?” Sponger snarled.
There was murder in his eye, and a hunting knife clutched in his right hand.
Afton felt her guts tighten. She backed away from him. “Take it easy. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Sponger turned the blade sideways and said, “I hurt you.”
Afton turned on her heels and ran. Without hesitation, she scrambled up the steep stone abutment that reinforced the old bridge. The stones were slippery and icy, but she moved carefully, knowing any misstep could cost her.
Hurry, hurry! Her brain beat out an urgent mantra as she heard him panting and scuttling noisily behind her.
When Afton was at the very top of the abutment, tucked way under the span of the bridge, she twisted around. Sponger was some twenty feet below her, doing his best to climb after her, but picking his way tentatively. Like some kind of crazy-ass pirate, he held his knife in his mouth as he clung to stones with his bare hands, pulling himself up, struggling and grunting to find basic toeholds.
Overhead, traffic rumbled on the bridge. Down here there was nobody around.
And Afton had no weapon.
Fear welled up inside her as she searched for something . . . anything to defend herself with. Her eyes caught sight of a narrow piece of rusted metal just above her. It was a bent piece of the bridge’s framework that stuck out about three feet.
Could she grab it in time? Could she even work it free?
Afton sidestepped her way across the narrow stone platform and grasped hold of the metal bar. One end was still loosely riveted to the struts of the old bridge. She jerked at the metal bar and pulled hard. Nothing doing. She glanced down and saw that Sponger was getting closer. She didn’t have much time. She could ditch out of here, try to slide down, and then make a run for it. Or she could stay here and make her stand.
Grasping the metal bar with both hands, she wiggled and seesawed it back and forth. It remained attached with only one loose weld. If she could just pop it free . . .
Sponger moved closer, growling, scrabbling upward, as Afton worked frantically. She had one eye on the metal bar that was bending much freer in her hands now. But Sponger had stuck a tentative foot on the cement shelf and was moving toward her, crab-stepping like a demonic circus performer in some high-wire act.
Metal flakes flew into her eyes as Afton gave the hunk of rusted metal one last tug. And it suddenly came loose!
Like Buster Posey swinging at a fastball, Afton whipped the metal bar at Sponger’s head. And connected hard. Hit him dead center in the forehead.
Thwock!
There was the sickening sound of ripping flesh, a light spray of blood, and then Sponger let loose a high-pitched scream as the knife flew out of his mouth and his eyes rolled back in his head. He dropped to his knees, managed a clumsy half twist, and then lost it completely. His fingernails fought for purchase, but it was too late. He went sliding down the bridge embankment on his belly, his chin bumping every rocky protrusion along the way. Thin, reedy cries shattered the silence. His knife clinked and clattered its way down the ragged stones alongside him. Then Sponger hit bottom and cartwheeled to a stop.
That’s when the cavalry finally showed up. The SWAT team was suddenly there in full force, garbed in black, wearing protective armor. They scrambled all over Sponger. They hoisted him up, shook him like a rag doll, and then forced him to his knees. One officer wrenched his hands behind his back, another bent over and picked up the knife.
“You okay up there?” one of the SWAT guys called to Afton.
She was crouched on her heels, trying to still her quaking heart and quiet her breathing. Yeah, she thought she was okay. But talk about your on-the-job training.
“I’m fine,” Afton called out. “I’m coming down.” She dropped into a crouch, lifted her heels, and bumped her way down on her backside.
Then Max was there, angry and apologetic all at once. “I had no idea,” he sputtered. “We should have gone in full force.”
Afton held up a hand. “It’s okay.” Max seemed more upset than she was. Or maybe she was just getting used to having close calls. “Really, I’m just fine.”
Sponger was whimpering and straining to pull himself into a tight little ball.
“Don’t hurt me,” he cried. “I didn’t do nothin’. I didn’t hurt nobody.” His eyes rolled pitifully in his head and his chin quivered as if he were about to cry. Blood streamed from his nose, his lips were scuffed and bleeding.
“Then why’d you run away from us?” Max asked.
“Why’d you pull the damn knife?” Afton barked at him. She had to restrain herself from smacking him upside the head. “All we wanted to do was ask you some questions.”
“You’re from the military?” Sponger blubbered. He tried to press his hands against his head. “You’ll put metal clamps on my head to read my thoughts.”