Trent got busy with a can of gasoline off the pick-up. Flames fought back the flurries of snow falling on the disintegrating A-frame.
Sending the others ahead, Larry and Trent commandeered Tom-Boy’s SUV.
‘It’s full of shit,’ Trent complained as he surveyed the blood and tissue sprayed through the interior.
‘It’ll clean up back at the shop,’ Larry said.
As was the norm, Larry drove.
They caught up with the others at the pass. Trent got out the SUV armed with his can of gasoline and doused the Ford Explorer. Then there were two fires raging on the mountainside.
Good job it’s winter, Larry thought, otherwise Trent’d probably burn the entire forest down. Trent’s growing fascination with flames was another thing that concerned Larry about his strange sibling.
Trent grumbled all the way to town, brushing at drips falling on him from the roof.
‘I ain’t cleaning this fucking thing,’ he told Larry about a dozen times before they reached Little Fork.
Larry didn’t bother arguing. His head felt like someone was beating it with a hammer and all he wanted was to get back to their workshop where he could find something to take away the pain.
They’d left the snow up in the hills, but it was still a gloomy night. Not too many people out on the streets. The others continued on, but Larry slowed the vehicle as they approached the back alley that led to the workshop where they’d customised the Dodge. A guy with a bag of groceries was standing in the mouth of the alley, watching them warily.
‘The fuck’s his problem?’ Trent enquired, then he leaned out the window and yelled at the man. Larry closed his eyes, flinching with every word rocketing around inside his skull. When he blinked open his eyes the man had stepped up on to the kerb. Larry drove into the alley.
‘Should have run the fucker over,’ Trent said. ‘Inconsiderate bastard!’
‘Trent . . .’
Trent blinked across at him. ‘What’s up, bro?’
Larry could only shake his head.
Arriving at their lock-up, Trent clambered out and set to the padlock. As Trent cursed loudly, Larry reached for his Magnum. But it wasn’t there. Good job, because this time he really would have put a round through his brother’s skull.
When Trent opened the door, Larry drove the SUV into the workshop. He didn’t turn off the headlights until Trent found the light switch and bathed the shop with stark light. Larry climbed out of the vehicle, trailing a string of viscous gunk that clung to the sleeve of his jacket. Gross! he thought, wiping the congealed blood on the hood of the SUV.
‘Jesus Christ, Larry,’ Trent moaned. ‘You don’t have to make things worse than they already are!’
‘Shut the fuck up, will ya?’ Larry walked over to a tool bench arranged along the far wall. He was pretty sure he had a stash of morphine somewhere. His head was pounding, and his nose was full of the stink of Tom and Richie’s brains. God knows what the hell he had sticking to his clothes. ‘How could things get any worse?’
Chapter 12
‘Maybe I can answer that.’
At the sound of my voice the two men turned to stare at me. They were the biggest human beings I’d ever seen, and between them they almost blocked out my view of the far wall. I’d thought that Rink was big, but next to these men he’d have looked slight. It made me feel like a child in comparison.
The difference between us was really measured by the fact that I was armed and they weren’t. The SIG made me the top dog in the room.
Both men looked at me, then down at the gun.
‘Either of you fancy your chances?’ I brought up the SIG so that it was aimed directly at the face of the man with the odd eyes. He was the most vocal and likely to be the most irrational.
‘You’re the asshole who was blocking our way,’ he said, pointing a hand at me. He rolled the hand into a fist the size of a Sunday roast. ‘You want to fuck with me because I bawled you out?’
The other man turned
Sending the others ahead, Larry and Trent commandeered Tom-Boy’s SUV.
‘It’s full of shit,’ Trent complained as he surveyed the blood and tissue sprayed through the interior.
‘It’ll clean up back at the shop,’ Larry said.
As was the norm, Larry drove.
They caught up with the others at the pass. Trent got out the SUV armed with his can of gasoline and doused the Ford Explorer. Then there were two fires raging on the mountainside.
Good job it’s winter, Larry thought, otherwise Trent’d probably burn the entire forest down. Trent’s growing fascination with flames was another thing that concerned Larry about his strange sibling.
Trent grumbled all the way to town, brushing at drips falling on him from the roof.
‘I ain’t cleaning this fucking thing,’ he told Larry about a dozen times before they reached Little Fork.
Larry didn’t bother arguing. His head felt like someone was beating it with a hammer and all he wanted was to get back to their workshop where he could find something to take away the pain.
They’d left the snow up in the hills, but it was still a gloomy night. Not too many people out on the streets. The others continued on, but Larry slowed the vehicle as they approached the back alley that led to the workshop where they’d customised the Dodge. A guy with a bag of groceries was standing in the mouth of the alley, watching them warily.
‘The fuck’s his problem?’ Trent enquired, then he leaned out the window and yelled at the man. Larry closed his eyes, flinching with every word rocketing around inside his skull. When he blinked open his eyes the man had stepped up on to the kerb. Larry drove into the alley.
‘Should have run the fucker over,’ Trent said. ‘Inconsiderate bastard!’
‘Trent . . .’
Trent blinked across at him. ‘What’s up, bro?’
Larry could only shake his head.
Arriving at their lock-up, Trent clambered out and set to the padlock. As Trent cursed loudly, Larry reached for his Magnum. But it wasn’t there. Good job, because this time he really would have put a round through his brother’s skull.
When Trent opened the door, Larry drove the SUV into the workshop. He didn’t turn off the headlights until Trent found the light switch and bathed the shop with stark light. Larry climbed out of the vehicle, trailing a string of viscous gunk that clung to the sleeve of his jacket. Gross! he thought, wiping the congealed blood on the hood of the SUV.
‘Jesus Christ, Larry,’ Trent moaned. ‘You don’t have to make things worse than they already are!’
‘Shut the fuck up, will ya?’ Larry walked over to a tool bench arranged along the far wall. He was pretty sure he had a stash of morphine somewhere. His head was pounding, and his nose was full of the stink of Tom and Richie’s brains. God knows what the hell he had sticking to his clothes. ‘How could things get any worse?’
Chapter 12
‘Maybe I can answer that.’
At the sound of my voice the two men turned to stare at me. They were the biggest human beings I’d ever seen, and between them they almost blocked out my view of the far wall. I’d thought that Rink was big, but next to these men he’d have looked slight. It made me feel like a child in comparison.
The difference between us was really measured by the fact that I was armed and they weren’t. The SIG made me the top dog in the room.
Both men looked at me, then down at the gun.
‘Either of you fancy your chances?’ I brought up the SIG so that it was aimed directly at the face of the man with the odd eyes. He was the most vocal and likely to be the most irrational.
‘You’re the asshole who was blocking our way,’ he said, pointing a hand at me. He rolled the hand into a fist the size of a Sunday roast. ‘You want to fuck with me because I bawled you out?’
The other man turned
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