BooksBarbecue
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

“I figure you’re right about that.”

And then she backs away. Heart pounding. Throat tight. Eyes hot and raw.

She turns and runs home.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Atlanta walks down the long driveway toward her house, boots crunching on loose limestone gravel, dust kicking up since it hasn’t rained in a couple weeks.

In the distance, in the woods far beyond the house, plump cloud-bulges rise into the sky. Steam from the PP&L power plant behind the woods. When winter comes and the leaves fall, you can see the cooling towers. Now it’s all green and you have to squint to see the shapes.

Sometimes the clouds coming up out of there look like things. Hands or fists. Faces. A fox jumping. A person screaming. Right now they just look like lumpy piles of stuffing cut out of a pillow. Floating in zero gravity.

As Atlanta gets closer to home, she sees someone sitting on the steps outside the ratty screened-in porch.

A girl. Familiar but not too familiar. White-blonde hair. Peach T-shirt. Jeans, but not trashy jeans that hang low and show off the whale-tail of a thong. Pink lipstick. Good shoes. Rich girl, by the looks of her.

She’s sporting an infinite stare, looking off at a fixed point in between worlds. Almost like there’s nobody home in those eyes.

Atlanta lifts her chin in a bro-nod. “’Sup.”

Blondie twitches, jarred from her reverie. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. You lost?”

“Are you Atlanta?” The girl stands.

“Maybe.” Her encounter at school has her feeling standoffish, which isn’t very fair. “Sorry. Yeah. Why?”

“I’m Jenny. Jenny Whitsett.” The girl thrusts out her hand. It’s like a mannequin’s hand it looks so nice. Atlanta figures on not being rude, so she takes it. Blondie—er, Jenny—has a mannequin’s handshake, too. Stiff but also lifeless. “I’d like to talk to you about something.”

Atlanta rolls her eyes. “Listen, I believe in Jesus, I just don’t know if he believes in me, and I try to be good but I’m not always so good at being good, so whatever it is you want to preach, it’s gonna fall on deaf ears—”

“It’s not about Jesus.”

“Well, who else is there? You believe in some kind of space god, like Tom Cruise?”

“What? No.” A flash of irritation. “I want your help.”

Atlanta frowns, then gives in. She drops her book bag on the ground, goes and hooks a piece-of-shit white plastic patio chair with her toe, drags it closer, plops her butt down on it. Chin to her chest. Red tangle of hair over her shoulders.

“I need you to solve a murder,” Jenny tells her.

Atlanta’s whole body tightens, a flash of Chris’s face in her mind’s eye. “Murder.”

“Yes. Murder. My dog. My dog was murdered.”