“We’ll see,” Bubba said as Myrtle came up to the table, notepad in hand.

“You boys decided yet?”

“Iced tea, fried shrimp and oysters,” Bubba said.

“One-time plate or all-u-can-eat?”

“Lay it on me,” Bubba said.

Myrtle laughed, chewing gum. “And Smudge?”

“The same.”

“You boys sure are easy,” she said, brushing crumbs off their table and walking back to the kitchen.

“Where we headed?” Bubba asked.

“Gonna start out at the intersection of 620 and 460 right over there.” Smudge pointed. “And head left way up in the middle of nowhere. Just muddy roads, forest and creeks. I did some checking into the Dismal Swamp and you definitely don’t want that right now. Apparently when it’s warm during the day, snakes are balled up like earthworms, there’s so many of ’em. When it cools off at night, you run over ’em like sticks on the road.”

Bubba was having a hard time breathing.

“You all right, good buddy?” Smudge said.

“Allergies. I forgot to bring my Sudafed.”

“Chances are where we’re going the snakes aren’t going to be near that bad,” Smudge went on. “And if we see a snake, just let it be. They’re more scared of us than we are of them.”

“Who says?” Bubba blurted out. “Did a snake actually tell someone that? It’s like saying dogs have no sense of time. Did someone ask Half Shell if it’s true? I’ve heard tales of a snake going up somebody’s pants leg. So how scared is that?”

“Good point,” Smudge thoughtfully replied. “I’ve heard the same thing. I must admit I’ve also heard of snakes chasing people and cobras spitting you in the eye, although I can’t say whether it’s true.”

Divinity tried to calm Smoke and get him out of his dangerous mood. But when he got like this, there was no point ranting and raving about something unless she wanted to get the treatment.

“Baby, it’s just I don’t want nothing bad to happen to you,” she tried one more time as he sped along Midlothian Turnpike, away from the slum he called a clubhouse where he now had enough of an arsenal to take out an entire police precinct.

“I find him, he’s dead,” Smoke said.

Wu-Tang was playing “Severe Punishment.” Smoke turned it up louder.

“What’d I tell him to do?” Smoke glared at Divinity.

“You told him to paint up the statue,” she quietly said, watching his hands to make sure he didn’t head them her way.

“I told him to paint up, as in fuck up, as in ruin.” Smoke gripped the wheel hard. “I knew I shoulda stayed there and watched. Goddamn it. Shit! Then he paints that little fucking blue fish and the whole fucking world thinks that fish virus has got something to do with it! Where’s our credit, huh? Where does it say the Pikes?”

“Don’t look like we got credit, baby.” She was freezing up inside, waiting for that beast in him to jump out.

“Well, I’m gonna fucking fix that, and you know how?”