Journal entry from Tuesday, August 9, 2011
10:50 p.m. atop Stoner's Jump in the Simi Hills
Bullets from an AR-15 whiz past our heels as me and George dive behind a one-story sized boulder at the southern end of the jump. The howling Santa Ana wind drowns the sound of metal ricocheting off the stone.
A scream cuts through the roaring wind. The voice is a man's, one of Manson's dipshits hit by a stray bullet.
With a grin, I raise my eyebrows at George, then we move into a crouching position at each end of the boulder. Within seconds, another one of Manson's followers, a chubby man, rounds the stone. A black hoodie covers his head, and he's wearing black sweatpants. With the moonlight shining on his pasty face, he looks like a fat caricature of the Scream mask. His weapon is raised shoulder height, but his hands are quivering.
From his position on the ground, George grabs the man's legs, then uses his body leverage to smash him against the boulder. Dipshit's shoulder hits the stone with a crack, and he releases the AR-15. As he scrabbles at his injured shoulder, the gun bounces off the stone, then skids over the side of Stoner's Jump to drop into the chasm.
George rises to stand and slams the man's head into the boulder. As Manson's dipshit slumps to the ground, unconscious, the tip of another AR-15 pokes around the boulder near my head.
I leap to my feet and swipe the gun from a fifty-something woman. Her rat-like eyes widen in surprise as her gun clatters over the side of Stoner's Jump. The wind blows her long hair into a gray halo around her head as she opens her mouth, but the wind snatches her voice.
I've never hit a girl, so I make a sudden movement toward her with my torso and head.
With a yelp, she pivots and runs in the opposite direction. I follow a few steps, then stop alongside the boulder to watch as she trips over a gunshot victim laying on the ground. Her feet catch his torso, and she does a full face-plant. Before she can cry out in pain, a dark figure sneaks up from the west and covers her mouth. Maxsim Kisilev.
Despite my distrust of the Russian, I admire his strategy. Pick off the weakest one and make them talk.
Max pulls the woman to her feet as Manson's idiots spray the top of the plateau with gunfire. Buffeted by fifty-mile-an-hour wind gusts, the bullets disperse in a wild, unpredictable pattern.
With a surprisingly graceful movement, the Russian scoops his prisoner into his arms and slips into a stand of Laurel Sumac.
As Masxim disappears into the brush, light floods the top of Stoner's Jump. At the eastern end of the plateau, near the stone tongue jutting out from the cave, a news helicopter hovers to shine a spotlight on the chaos.
Atop the plateau, a second cult member howls as he's hit by gunfire. As he drops to the ground, a second woman shouts, "Stop shooting and help him!"
One hundred feet from me, Ken and Martin poke their heads up from their position behind an SUV-sized boulder at the northern end of the plateau. Their faces screw up with laughter, and Ken shouts, "You bitches finish your circle jerk?"
Manson's morons ignore my brother's taunt as they huddle around the two gunshot victims. There are eleven of them, all dressed in the same black hoodie and sweatpants uniform. One of them raises his head to look northward at the sound of another helicopter approaching.
As the helicopter nears, I recognize the black and white colors of the LAPD. Its spotlight sweeps across the plateau to land on the scrum of Manson followers. A man's voice booms through a loudspeaker, "Drop your weapons."
Before they can comply, powerful gusts buffet the plateau. Manson's cult members are knocked off-balance as the Santa Ana wind roars.
In response to the turbulence, LAPD's spotlight swings away as the helicopter retreats to land on the nearby meadow. Seizing the opportunity of law enforcement's distraction, I drop to the ground and crawl back behind the boulder. As I flatten against the stone, George mirrors my movement.
The news helicopter hovers precariously above the cave entrance to the east, its rotors churning with a groan. Just as I consider free climbing to escape a scene soon to be crawling with cops, a savage burst of turbulence rocks the helicopter, sending it spinning wildly out of control.
A jolt of fear for Martin and Ken sparks in my chest. Sure, we Salvias aren't destined to die today, but the thought of them getting hurt is terrifying. My heart hammers in my ribs as I lock eyes with George for a split second, a silent exchange of concern passing between us.
Suddenly, a deafening roar rips through the air. Atop the plateau, the news helicopter slams into the ground, erupting in a fiery explosion. As a colossal fireball engulfs the wreckage, the entire surface of Stoner's Jump shudders with the force of a massive earthquake. For a moment, relief washes over me because the massive boulder that flanks our position acts as a shield, protecting us from the brunt of the explosion.
But that fleeting sense of security shatters instantly. With a sickening lurch, the boulder shifts, sending George and I tumbling headfirst into a free fall off the side of Stoner's Jump.
AUTHOR NOTES:
Banner photo of Stoner's Jump (looking north from the Stagecoach Trail) taken by the author
Playlist Decollage by Thievery Corporation
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