The barbed wire, taut from Fireball’s weight, hums like a plucked violin string as I tap the steel against it. I stare into his giant bruise of a face.
“Please don’t,” he hisses. “Please.”
I lower the steel against the wire, angling the sharp tip so it catches, and start to saw. The wire flakes back, singing, and pops apart. Fireball’s head impacts the dry earth in a spray of dust, his hands still baled in loosened barbs.
“Thank you, man,” he bubbles. “Thank you, I’m sorry, thank—”
I drop the steel. “Run.”
Fireball finds his feet and takes one shaky step. Blood from his ankle stigmata darkens his socks and spatters the tops of his white sneakers. He leans against the side of the shack for a moment, breathing hard, wiping his mouth, and with a quick stumble leaves me alone in the clear
