box.
A strange shape speaks.
"What flavor would you like, little girl?" Yaksha asks in a tired voice.
My reaction is a surprise to me. Probably because I feared him for so long, it is difficult for me even to approach him without hesitation-even while seek?ing him out as an ally. Yet, with his silly question, a wave of warmth sweeps over me. Still, I do not stare too hard at what he has become. I do not want to know, at least not yet.
"I will get you out of here," I say. "Give me ten minutes."
"You can take fifteen if you need, Sita."
I close the compartment door. Only police cars are allowed in and out of the area. Not even the press has gotten through the roadblocks, which is understand?able. It is not every day twenty-plus bodies are incine?rated in Los Angeles, although, on the other hand, it is not that unusual an occurrence in this part of town.
My course is clear. I will get myself a police car, maybe a navy blue police cap to cover my blond hair. I walk casually in the direction of the warehouse, when who do I run into but the two cops who stopped me outside the coliseum: Detective Doughnut and his young prodigy. They blink when they see me, and I have to refrain from laughing. A box of doughnuts is set out on the hood of their black-and-white unit, and they are casually sipping coffee from Styrofoam cups. We are still a block from where all the action is going on, relatively isolated from view. The situation ap?peals to my devilish nature.
"Fancy meeting you here," I say.
They scramble to set down their nourishment. "What are you doing here?" the older cop asks politely. "This is a restricted area."
I am bold. "You make this place sound like a nuclear submarine."
"We're serious," the young one says. "You'd best get out of here quick."
I move closer. "I will leave as soon as you give me your car keys."
They exchange a smile. The older one nods in my direction. "Haven't you seen the news? Don't you know what's happened here?"
"Yeah, I heard an atomic bomb went off." I stick out my hand. "But give me the keys, really. I'm in a big hurry."
The young one puts his hand on his nightstick. Like he would really need it with a ninety-eight-pound young woman who looks all of twenty. Of course, he would need a Bradley Tank to stop me. The guy has a phony prep school demeanor, and I peg him for a rich dropout who couldn't get into law school and so joined the force to annoy Daddy.
"We're running out of patience," Preppy says, acting the tough guy. "Leave immediately or we're hauling your tight ass in."
"My tight ass? What about the rest of me? That sounds like a sexist statement if I ever heard one." I move within two feet of Preppy and stare him in the eye, trying hard not to bum it out of its socket. "You know I have nothing against good cops, but I can't stand sexist pigs. They piss me off, and when I get pissed off there's no stopping me." I poke the guy in the chest, hard. "You apologize to me right now or I'm going to whip your ass."
To my surprise-I could pass, after all, for a high school senior-he pulls his gun on me. Backing off a pace as if shocked, I raise my arms over my head. The older cop takes a tentative step in our direction. He is more experienced; he knows it is always a bad idea to go looking for trouble where trouble does not exist. Yet he does not know that trouble is my middle name.
"Hey, Gary," he says. "Leave the girl alone. She's just flirting with you is all. Put away your gun."
Gary does not listen. "She's got a pretty dirty mouth for a flirt. How do we know she's not a prostitute? Yeah, that's right, maybe she is. Maybe we should haul her tight ass in on a charge of soliciting sexual favors for money."
"I haven't offered you any money," I say.
That angers Gary. He shakes his gun at my belly. "You get up against that wall and spread your legs."
"Gary," the old cop complains. "Stop it."
"Better stop now, Gary," I warn him. "I can tell you for sure you won't be able to finish it."
Gary grabs me by the arm and throws me against the wall. I let him.