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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

I’m singing and he’s kicking for I don’t know how long but when we’re both finally quiet another sound gives me goose bumps gunfire rattling like marbles in a can. There’s a bed up a ladder. I climb into it pull a blanket over me and stick fingers in my ears deep as they’ll go.

27

27

July 5, 1976, Las Vegas

T​O GET TO WHERE I FIND MYSELF NOW, IT’S EASIEST TO PICK UP where I last left off.

After the fight with the bikers—the Fiends, they’re called—at Beaumont’s place, we buried the girl Jesse had wrapped in the blanket. I helped with the digging, the work a relief from worrying about what might be coming next. It struck me that it was the second grave I’d dug in less than a week.

Jesse said he and Edgar would be sharing my room with me. As he was pointing Czarnecki’s .45 at my head at the time, I didn’t argue. First, though, he had me park near a motel where he and his brother had been staying so he could pick up their belongings.

As soon as he was out of sight, Edgar started to talk. He’s slow somehow, retarded, and seemed to be saying any old thing that popped into his brain. He told me he hit a jackpot on a slot machine, was lucky that way. He said he wanted to go to Dallas because someone called Icky Twerp showed Popeye cartoons there. He asked if I had a CB radio and said I should get one and he’d show me how to use it.

When I could finally sneak a word in, I asked who the dead girl was. He said she was Jesse’s sweetheart and one of the Fiends had killed her. He said she was nice but dumb, and something about her stealing a baby. He was back on cartoons by the time Jesse returned and handed him a pillowcase with a cat in it. At that point nothing was strange to me.

The brothers started bickering before we’d even settled in my room. I bandaged the cut on my head, ate a sandwich, and took a shower to wash the blood off myself. The sun was up when I finally lay down with my Bible, but morning didn’t bring me back to life. I nodded off within minutes and slept for a long while.

I was sore when I woke—my head, my back—and still at a loss as to how to handle the situation I was in. I had a powerful urge to escape the room even if only for a few minutes. Jesse let me walk out to the pool.