Chapter 46
THE JUNE evening sunlight burned into my back and the freshly-fired shotgun steamed in my hands. My nervous system still twitched and spasmed with the lingering effects of Jesse and Teresa’s assault. Every muscle screamed for a big dinner and a very long nap. The decrepit apartment buildings of the Orchards loomed over us, their lengthening shadows promising a black night.
Teresa crouched over Jesse’s body. I’d put four shells of shot into Jesse’s gut. Her blood pooled around her, flowing into the cracks in the asphalt and away from what should have been her body. She’d fallen dead, but now raised her head and looked in my direction, a bloody Lazarus angry at the world and furious with me.
“Come on, girl,” Teresa said, squeezing Jesse’s hand. “You can do it.”
Gaping shotgun
