One round hits him in the stomach, two others miss. He cringes, anticipating another shot, but Jesse has a new target. It’s Bob, shotgun in one hand, pistol in the other, who’s appeared at the front end of the walkway. Bob cuts loose with the pistol, and Jesse returns fire with Elijah’s gun, then turns and flees to the back of the cabins.

He runs smack into Antonia, who’s come looking for Elijah. They fire at the same time. Antonia’s shot misses, but Jesse’s gets her in the face, the bullet entering under her right cheekbone, exiting over her left ear, and knocking her off her feet. Elijah screams her name as she hits the ground.

Jesse snatches up the shotgun Real Deal dropped and makes for the ruined trailer at the back of the property. Bob dashes out of the walkway, chasing him and already in his mind catching him and twisting off his head with his bare hands. Jesse whips around and fires the shotgun. The blast tears away Bob’s shirt and most of the skin from his chest to his thigh on his left side, exposing red muscle, yellow fat, and white bone. Tough as he is, he almost faints. A man’s not meant to see that much of his insides. He falls behind Real Deal’s Harley as Jesse disappears into the trailer.

Elijah staggers from between the cabins, grabs Antonia, and pulls her back into the walkway. He wipes some of the blood off her face. Her bulging right eye settles into its socket, and the hole in her cheek is closing, but she’s still unconscious.

The sound of the shots fades and the smoke drifts away. A fraught calm falls over the battlefield. Bob’s wound is healing but still hurts like a motherfucker. He reloads his pistol to take his mind off the pain and retrieves the shotgun he dropped when he was hit. When he’s back behind the bike, he hisses loudly, a signal. Elijah pokes his head around the cabin.

“Real Deal?” Bob mouths.

Elijah picks up a fistful of sand and lets it sift through his fingers.

“Antonia?”

Elijah wobbles the same hand. So-so.

Shotgun and pistol fire pour from the trailer, lighting up the night. Bullets and buckshot ping off Real Deal’s Harley and chew up the cabin behind it. Bob curls into a ball. When the salvo dies down, he realizes he’s been hit in the foot. Blood pours out of a rip in his boot. The guns roar again, the target this time Elijah’s ride. Sparks fly, bullets ricochet, and the bike topples over.

Bob sits up when the shooting stops. He’ll be damned if he’s going to cower like a frightened rabbit until he’s picked off. Hissing again to get Elijah’s attention, he throws him the pistol and aims the shotgun over the seat of Real Deal’s Harley.