Thomas eased off the back of the bike and knelt on the ground, his arms at his sides. Wilson leaned over the Yamaha like he was trying to get something from his boot.

“Get off the bike. Hands where I can see them.” Barbie Man stepped closer, waving the gun. The bike toppled on its side as Wilson swung his leg over it. In a single movement he lunged toward Barbie Man, tackling him. They fell together, Barbie Man landing on his slinged arm, screaming. Thomas tried to stand up, and at the same time there was a popping sound, a flash, and then a blast reverberating around us, like aftershocks. He’d shot the gun. He’d shot Wilson.

Wilson was on the ground, scrambling on his side to get away from Barbie Man. He looked bewildered, checking his shirt. Barbie Man was sitting on the ground, pointing the gun at him. Wilson wasn’t hit. Barbie Man had missed.

“Kneel on the fucking ground. Over by him.” Wilson stood and took slow cautious steps backward to where Thomas was kneeling.

Barbie Man tried to stand. Even in the dark, I could see clots of black blood spout from his nose. He tucked the white sling close to his body and stumbled, still pointing the gun at Thomas and Wilson. He was in pain. He walked in a circle twice, his body bent, then stopped and turned. Then, suddenly, he moved fast toward them, almost running, long strides, and kicked Wilson in the face with his heavy black boot. I heard the crunch, the sound of bone splintering. Barbie Man stepped back again and took another walking kick at him, this time in the ribs, and Wilson fell toward Thomas. I wanted to scream to Thomas, Get out of the way, get away from both of them! Wilson was slumped across Thomas’s knees. Barbie Man seemed demented. “Fuck you!” he shouted, kicking the Yamaha on the ground, shattering the headlight.

Wilson’s neighbors in the blue-glow room with the curtains drawn must have heard the shot and his shouting. Call the police, please, I willed them. Thomas was leaning over Wilson, whispering something to him, trying to help him sit up. I took a few steps toward them.

“Get the fuck off him!” the Barbie Man shouted at Thomas. He pointed and waved the gun wildly. “Move away from him.”

We’re all dead, I thought.

He paced toward them again, kicking Wilson in the ribs a second time. Wilson’s body didn’t make a sound.

“Fucking cunt, thinks he can come into my town and fuck me up?”

I was holding the Marksman now.

Barbie Man took the bandanna off his head. “You do this to me, motherfucker?” he shouted. “You come and cut me up?”