“Gang wars? What are they fighting for?” I ask, aware that my voice is unnecessarily shrill.
“Who ever knows?” Wanda says. She says it like it’s as unavoidable as a natural disaster: a hailstormor a tornado.
Another moan from behind us, and I see a long-bearded man supported by two others staggering past,blood gushing from a hole in his abdomen.
This can’t be the work of … It’s only been a few hours at most, not enough time for him to …
“What can we do?” I ask Wanda.
I feel stupid saying it, and even stupider with the look she gives me. “Nothing. You haven’t gotten thatby now? We’re just trash to the big players. Pawns, baby. Ain’t nothing more to it than that.”
I turn away so she won’t see the guilt clenched on my face. Trash to the big players … Well, it’s true,isn’t it? Other than
