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Back Atlanta Burns Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication Page
  4. CONTENTS
  5. PART ONE: SHOTGUN GRAVY
  6. Sometimes she wakes…
  7. CHAPTER ONE
  8. CHAPTER TWO
  9. CHAPTER THREE
  10. CHAPTER FOUR
  11. CHAPTER FIVE
  12. CHAPTER SIX
  13. CHAPTER SEVEN
  14. CHAPTER EIGHT
  15. CHAPTER NINE
  16. CHAPTER TEN
  17. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  18. PART TWO: BAIT DOG
  19. CHAPTER TWELVE
  20. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  21. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  22. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  23. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  24. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  25. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  26. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY
  28. PART THREE: THE FARM
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. PART FOUR: KISSING FIRE
  38. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  43. PART FIVE: BAIT GIRL
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  46. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  47. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  48. EPILOGUE: THE MESSAGE
  49. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  50. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

It’s too late, should’ve killed him when I had the chance.

Her plans all broken . . .

Here he comes . . .

Footsteps . . .

There . . .

Dark shadow dark eyes mean man in monster-skin.

He’s got the gun.

Fine kill me end it get it over with.

She kneels.

I’m all alone.

Gun up, black eye staring her down, open mouth.

Pointed at her.

Shape, movement, shadow.

Petry doesn’t see.

Shane.

Shane.

Shane is there—mouth in a silent O, cheap-shit flea-market katana raised up over his head like an executioner’s axe—and he brings the weapon down on Petry’s wrist.

The blade breaks in half like a dry spaghetti noodle.

Petry howls—

The gun goes off.

Another photo—this one of Atlanta as a little girl standing knee-deep in a muddy hole with a doofy smile on her face—leaps from the wall.

The gun hangs limp in Petry’s hand. Atlanta rushes. Drives a knee into his balls. Gets her arm under his arm and twists—the gun drops to the floor, and she hurries to pick it up.

The sound that comes out of her is like a rabid animal, crazed and wild.

She staggers backward. Petry advances—

She points the gun at him.

She sees in the dark his pale face. Shane’s, too—he backs away, hands out like he’s trying to fend off a lion. Both have a similar look—hair askew, plastered to forehead and thrust up like the feathers of a car-struck crow.

Moments pass. Big moments, full of expectation. Could shoot him now. Could just end it. He broke in here. Nobody would be the wiser. A justified act.

And yet.

“Outside,” Atlanta says, panting.

Petry sneers but doesn’t move.

She shoots at his feet.

“I said, outside.”

She gestures with the gun.

Petry marches. Atlanta sniffs, blows a shock of red hair out of her eye. Tells Shane, “Get my shotgun. And a couple shells. Then follow me.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Moon’s up. Big and bright over the corn. Petry creeps forward slowly. She tells him to keep his hands up, and when he does she sees his wrist is wet with blood. A real sword might’ve done a lot worse, but blood is blood and right now that blood makes her happy.

He gets to the edge of the corn and she sees movement off to the right—one of the Cat Lady’s cats out hunting for mice or chipmunks. The cat mrows and darts between the stalks.

“Your turn to kneel,” she says. “But you gotta face me, first.”

Shane catches up, her gun with the busted stock in one hand, a pair of green .410 shells in the palm of his other.

Petry turns and kneels. He stares up at her with eyes that might as well be carpenter nails. Cold and dark and sharp.

Atlanta points the gun at his head.