SEVENTEEN
"Hey, friend! Hey! You all right?"
I blinked and tried to force my world to come into focus. Everything was so blurry, like someone rubbed lard over my eyes. I felt a nudge on my shoulder. I tried to move.
"Friend, you took a hell of a spill. You all right? You okay?"
I shot up. Realization of the touch, my fall, Bouchard reaching for me—it all exploded into my mind. The world roared. My right leg screamed in pain. I had expected to be in a cell or to see Bouchard standing opposite of me, his fat revolver pointing at my forehead, the cave-like barrel yawning.
Looking around, my neck cracked and popped through the stiffness. I was still on the rooftop and Bouchard was nowhere to be found. I looked up from where I had dropped, expecting to see his wide face leering down. He wa
