“Told you never to show your face again.”
Cricket whistles. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
As I approach my bullet-riddled vehicle, my gaze narrows on the scene ahead. Jigsaw kneels beside Loretta, slicing his knife across her lower abdomen.
“You done this before?” I ask, reaching him. As suspected, Loretta is no longer among the living, a gaping hole in her neck the cause of her departure.
“No, but I have to try or the baby will die,” he replies.
I nod and leave him to his task, then pin my gaze on Spider. “Driver’s seat. Now.”
My Glock stays trained on him the whole time. Cricket hops into the back.
“How far?” I ask, sliding into the passenger seat.
“About an hour.”
“Nah. You get us there in thirty.”
As the minutes tick by, thoughts of Zilphia suffocating run rampant in my mind. No matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the haunting image. Is she alive, or is she dead? The uncertainty is driving me crazy.
“Fuck!” I roar, slamming my fist into the dashboard again and again, oblivious to the pain.
“Easy,” Cricket says, catching my wrist mid-swing. “She’s going to be okay.”
“You don’t know that, Cricket.” I don’t want to hope. Hope is for the weak. I once believed in it as a kid, and it bit me in the ass. “I can’t fucking take it.” If God exists and is merciful as people say, he won’t let them die.
“I know, bro. We’re almost there.”
I shove my gun against Spider’s temple. “If they’re dead, I’m going to make you bleed until all you know is pain.”
And after I’m done with him, I’ll put a bullet in my mouth.
In the ensuing silence, my morbid thoughts return with a vengeance. Time seems to stretch, and just when I’m about to lose my shit again, Spider turns onto an overgrown trail and throws the car in park.
“This is it.”
I rip the car door open and leap out, feeling like a death row inmate about to take the last walk.
I wave Spider ahead with my gun. Cricket and I follow in his wake, scanning the perimeter for moving shadows, the headlights guiding our steps.
I stumble over my feet, my stomach knotting tighter with every step I take.
Cricket catches my arm. “I got you, bro.”
I nod my gratitude and force one foot in front of the other. I never wanted to be a father. Didn’t think I was cut out for it—but the second I learned Zilphia was pregnant, I knew I’d movemountains to ensure my kid’s every happiness. Even more so when I found out we were having twins.
Now… I might never get the chance.
“Just up ahead,” Spider says, pointing at a patch of soil lighter than the flat, darker earth surrounding it.
I fire a single shot into his leg.
“Son of a bitch!” he bellows, dropping to the ground.
“Move and it’ll be your balls next,” I threaten.
“Fuck, no shovels,” Cricket mumbles.
