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Chapters (42)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. Acknowledgments
  40. Discover More
  41. About the Author
  42. Also by Richard Lange

When the flow was down to a trickle the Fiend stuck his finger in the cut showed the blood to Jesse then licked it off. He let Johona’s head drop and come at me again. Now you big boy, he said, let’s see what you look like without a nose. I yanked a hand free and grabbed him by the throat. Something cracked and he went to gagging. The others swarmed me like wild dogs punching kicking stabbing. For every one I slung off two more jumped on. Jesse was up again too. He slammed a blond girl’s head into the table took her gun and shot a man.

Monsieur Beaumont was against a wall looking like he was gonna be sick. It was all his doing and I meant to kill him but was having trouble walking. Someone stabbed me in the back. The blade was cold as an icicle going in hot as a freshly forged spike coming out. A redhead raised a pistol and shot me in the chest. I fell fast down into the dark.

The Little Devil laughs and shows his teeth. I’m dead, I tell him, leave me be. I ain’t done with you yet, he says. Popeye eats spinach to get strong. Sinbad the sailor cinches his belt. Underdog’s got him a pill. I chew a red M&M and lift a chair over my head till Jesse makes me stop. Where you at Jesse? I ain’t mad at you no more. Come get me. Come bring a light and I promise to toe the line.

23

23

June 30, 1976, Las Vegas (cont.)

Y​OU WANT ME TO KILL YOU?” I SAID, NOT SURE I’D HEARD Sally right.

“If you won’t let me go, yeah,” he said. “I’ll take you to Beaumont, you catch him and lock him in your box and dust me.”

I was standing in a heartless motel room in a heartless city, clutching a dead man’s pistol and listening to a monster try to convince me to end his life. The grotesqueness of the situation stalled me for a second.

“What do you say?” Sally asked.

There was no way I could give him an answer right then, so I marched him out to the camper and locked him in the crate. Back in the room the television blared. I turned off the set, but the silence was even worse. I put on a clean shirt and walked the two blocks to the Strip.

A band was playing your favorite song, “Misty,” in the lounge of the first casino I came to. It was pearls before swine. Three white girls in bouffants and minidresses cackled over mai tais, a table of cowboys talked baseball at the top of their lungs, and the bartender’s corny jokes drowned out the singer.