Was he shot in the mouth?

God, he was going to die!

Coughing. Coughing. Coughing.

Going to die!

Say your last prayers.

Say kaddish!

Gasping for air. Coughing blood.

His body floating away.

Gasp.

Choke.

Floating away. Say kaddish quick. But the words…

And then the arm releasing him.

The body slumping down on the ground.

Hersh on top of the body, his hand plunging into the man’s chest.

Something shiny in his hand.

Hersh screaming something.

But Noam could barely make out the words as he spit out blood.

Then he understood.

GODDAMN IT! CHECK HIS COAT POCKET!

Noam reached inside the man’s suit.

Wet and warm.

The man was wet and warm.

On his chest shreds of fabric. A wet hole. A few bits of something that felt like chopped meat.

The man not moving.

HURRY, GODDAMN IT!

Noam searched the inside coat pocket. Pulled out a wallet and showed it to Hersh.

Hersh grabbed the wallet, then Noam’s hand, and ran. One block, two, three, four.

Noam sucking for air, spitting out blood. Deep pain in his chest.

Then Hersh yelling at him to slow down.

They stopped a block later.

Quickly Hersh took off his coat and used it to wipe the knife. He threw it into a Dumpster and tucked the knife into his boot, peeled off Noam’s ski mask and stuffed it in his pocket.

Hersh whispered, “Give me the wallet.”

Noam did as told.

“You still got the gun?”

Noam nodded.

“At least you had the fuckin’ sense not to drop the gun.” Hersh rummaged through the wallet, fished out a thick fold of bills, fanned them out like playing cards.

“Man, we hit the mother lode.” Hersh scanned the ID. “Fucker used a fake name with me. His driver’s license says he’s Thomas Stoner and he told me his name was Todd.” He laughed and threw the wallet in the garbage. He eyed Noam. “You look like shit.”

Noam started to speak, but held back because he felt his stomach contents begin to erupt.

“Dafuck he do?” Hersh said. “Knock out your tooth?” He spit on Noam’s face and began to groom him like a monkey. “We gotta get outta here, but we gotta clean you up first.” He spit into his hand again. “Not too bad. Let’s go. And relax. He ain’t gonna be yellin’ for help.”

Slowly, they walked back to their hotel room. The man at the desk barely noticed them when he handed Hersh the key.

Once inside, Hersh bolted the door. Then he plopped down on the bed. Noam sat on the edge.