– Hn.

The cold barrel came away from my skin.

– Back up.

I did.

He pointed at the bed.

I sat.

He nodded.

– Well, can was there, ready to roll. And he is rollin. Which, I have to say, that is an interesting turn of events.

He started to bring the gun back up.

– Not that it really changes much for you all.

The door swung open and Mr. Big Ten Four crashed through and stumbled into the wall next to the bathroom door and left a bloodstain when his battered face slapped against it. Harris twisted, the barrel of the gun rotating away from us and toward his partner.

– What the hell?

Mr. Big Ten Four slid down the wall, streaking blood, one arm out, pointing toward the door. Harris continued to swivel, bringing the gun around, looking for the threat.

But by the time he got there and faced the door, Po Sin was inside it, the pistol that had looked so big in Gabes hand the night before looking like a toy in his own.

– Motherfucker.

Harris didnt move.

Po Sin took another step inside.

– Motherfucker, dont point that gun at me.

Harris didnt move.

Po Sin put out a hand and shoved the door closed.

– Motherfucker, I am a tempting target, but do not point that gun at me.

Harris didnt move.

And then Harris took Po Sins advice and did not point the gun at him. Instead, he twisted ‘round and pointed it at Soledad on the floor.

– Anyone does any damn thing and Im gonna do the obvious.

Po Sins lower lip swallowed his upper.

– Motherfucker.

Heres the thing about witnessing something truly awful.

It sucks.

Heres the thing about witnessing a small child being shot in the side of her face and having most of the rest of her face smeared on your clothes and covering her body with yours because some part of your brain has registered the fact that she has been hit by a bullet and you suddenly find out that you are more than willing to have the next bullet hit and kill you if it means that shell not be harmed any further.

The thing about that is that it hurts when the next bullet doesnt come.

You end up thinking about it a lot. When youre not thinking about that second bullet, the one you knew might come, and therefore could do something about, you are actually, in point of fact, still thinking about it. You dont really think about anything else.

Some of your brain, in order to keep you focused on things it needs you to do, like breathing and eating and such, builds little facades to place over the surface of the world. Perfectly detailed overlays that mimic the world you lived in before you had little girl face on your clothes. Illusions as painstakingly crafted as the relic Old West street fronts on studio back lots. Scrims of normalcy that keep you walking and talking and breathing and eating.

And because thats what you perceive, the hyper reality you inhabit, its the behavior of everyone around you that seems out of sync.

Im OK, man. What the hell is everyone elses problem? Why is everyone acting so weird?

But some other part of your brain knows its a fake. And knows, as well, who is responsible for the fake. And knows that you cant keep existing in a fake world propped on wobbly jack-stands in front of the real.

Sooner or later a stiff wind will come and blow it down on top of you.

That part of the brain sends out messages, bits of code meant to remind you of whats behind the sets. Scrawled missives.

Dont get comfortable. This all has to come down someday. Dont open that door, theres nothing behind iti

The gap between those two parts of the brain is dark and deep. Narrow, but wide enough by some inches to fall into and be lost.

But youre not thinking about any of that. The two worlds youre walking in are just background to one thing, one thought carved into endless variation.

Where is that second bullet?

And when is it going to hit me?

And make me useful again?

Always youre looking, whether you know it or not, for that opportunity, that chance to do it over again. A dream that will never come true. A shot at taking the bullet.

And saving the innocent girl.

Or a girl not so innocent.

I looked at the gun pointing at Soledad.

Heartbeat.

And I got off the bed.

Heartbeat.

And I laid my body over hers.

Heartbeat.

– Boy.

I looked up at Harris.

He centered the gun on my back.

– This thing is plenty big to go through the both of you.

– Web.

Soledad had twisted her face out of her armpit.

I tried to smile at her, but expect I grimaced.

– Hey.

– Web, did you just pee on me?

– Yeah.

– Thought you were pee shy in front of girls.

– I kind of got terrified out of it.

Harris snapped his fingers.

– You, Chinaman, put that weapon on the floor before I shoot these two with one bullet.

Po Sin put the weapon on the floor.

– And kick it on over.

Po Sin kicked it over.

– And sit your big ass down.

Po Sin sat his big ass down.

– OK. For the moment, were all gonna stay pretty much like this till my boy over there comes to. Then well figure out how this all sorts.

He squatted and reached for the pistol near his feet and Gabe came out of the bathroom with the sap Id seen in his glove box and smashed Harris’ gun hand and the revolver dropped and hit the floor and Harris kept reaching for the pistol at his feet and Gabe kicked it clear and brought his knee up into Harris’ face and Po Sin was up and moving and Gabe put the sap across Harris’ knee and the cowboy went down and Gabe dropped and sat on his chest and took the sap and shoved it into Harris’ mouth till it had to be at the back of his throat and Po Sin came over and looked down at me and Soledad.

– Get up.

We got up.

Harris gagged. Gabe took out the sap and forced Harris’ head to the side and waited for the vomiting to subside before putting it back in.

Po Sin watched for a second then turned back to us.

– That the brother?

I looked at Jaimes feet sticking out from under the bed where hed crawled to hide.

– Yeah.

He bent and grabbed an ankle and dragged Jaime squirming into the light.

– Get up.

Jaime stood, one big bundle of flinching muscles.

– Uh, hey, uh.

Po Sin pointed at Harris and Gabe.

– See that?

Jaime nodded.

– Sure.

Po Sin shook his head.

– No you dont.

Jaime nodded.

– No, no I dont. I do not.

Po Sin looked the room over.

– Anything in here belong to any of you three? A hat? Keys? Phone? Check your pockets, make sure you have everything you came in with.

Jaime pawed his pockets.

– I got everything, sir, I have all my stuff.

Po Sin looked at me and Soledad.

– You two?

We nodded.

He pointed at the door.

– OK, get out.

Harris jerked and tried to knee Gabe in the back and Po Sin took a pillow from the bed and tossed it to Gabe and Gabe muffled Harris’ face and Po Sin stepped on the cowboys ruined gun hand and there was a noise from behind the pillow.

Jaime bolted for the door. I pushed Soledad ahead of me, detouring to unzip one of the duffels and pull out a thin Harbor Inn bath towel. Jaime and Soledad went out. I closed the door to a crack and stood just inside.

– Po Sin.

He looked up.

– Yeah.

– What are you gonna?

– Were gonna find out where my van is. I dont think it will take long. But you probably dont want to watch.

– And thats?

– What?

– Thats all, just find out where?

Po Sin crossed the room.

– Go home, Web. Nothings gonna happen here.

He opened the door and pushed me out.

I stuck my foot in the door.

– Hey man, just, you know. Not too much. I mean. I called for help, but.