Chapter 35

“Get the gun, Coose,” I said down to my lover. “Kill the fuckers. Don’t just lay there.”

He didn’t move, though. Rather, he was gunk splayed over the wooden boards, bloody and incapable of standing, and in a considerable amount of pain since he was breathing heavily. Ironically, he left me as a lone soldier, which was not how I had chosen to be, but sometimes the hand of cards didn’t always go my way, did they? Of course not. 53: Slice

3:38 A.M.

How could Coose be down, shot in his left side with blood pouring out of his wound? Carelessness, that’s how. His naked body lay on the living room floor, covered in his own dark red blood that smelled bittersweet. His pupils were wide and his mouth was ajar. For a second or two I believed he could help me get out of that ugly situation by blowing the two FBI agents away, surviving that monstrous moment with me, but he was useless, a product of his own actions, and so very weak, unlike myself.