“Hey, Luke,” Brad yelled from the window of his straight-piped Camaro, “get in. You gotta come with me.” Luke trotted across the yard and flopped down in the passenger seat.

“What’s up?” he asked, holding his hand out to bum a cigarette.

“Carl’s done been put in the hospital by that girl’s husband that lives in Pisgah View Projects. We gotta go find his boys before they find the guy.”

“Jesus,” Luke said, lighting the cigarette. “how bad is it?”

“I dunno. Bad, I think. Margret says he might not live. Stabbed to pieces, she said.”

“Holy shit. His boys will kill that guy.”

“That’s why we got to find em. It don’t matter whether Carl had it comin’ or not, they’ll kill him sure as shit.”

They drove around town all afternoon with Metallica turned down low on the tape player and their t-shirts soaked with sweat. It was dark when they found Carl’s boys at the pool hall on Amboy road.

Jason was drunker than Lane who was higher than Glen who was so damn angry he couldn’t stop grinding his teeth.