CHAPTER SEVEN
I crashed onto a gravel surface, bounced several times, and landed in shallow water.
The Mississippi’s brown waters eddied around me before I knew what the hell had happened.
I shot up, gasped, and spit out a cluster of gravel.
It was daytime. Morning, judging by the light spinning off the water. The sky was baby blue.
Birds chirped. A barge floated down the river, carrying cargo containers. Car horns blared in the distance—probably folks trying to get to work.
I stood up and all the pain from before hammered me down again.
I was alive, but I sure wasn't well. Cuts on my cheeks. Bruises on my palms. My insides felt like napalm had surged through them. My bicep was swollen and tender. And my knees. Oh, oh, my poor knees were singing the blues.
I was in bad shape. I did
