“Wuza goddammed, innocent kid, for Chrissakes. Ne’r did nuthin’ wrong ta nobody.” It’s as if he’s pleading, but with whom? Spittle collects between his clenched teeth. It hangs like the sheen that’s glossed over his reddened eyes.

A sniffle brings him back to the here-and-now and he collects himself in the bucket seat. He reminds himself that he has to be steady for the job; cool and collected and totally in control. He knows that every action –even this, the way he grips the wheel- must be well thought-out, or “premeditated” as they will call it in court, if all goes according to plan. And what a hastily drawn-up plan it is, but here he is as the pickup carries him another inch closer with every passing second. All he has to do is push ever so slightly down on that pedal.

---

When the driver found her, he just sat forever, right in that spot beside the front the steps, and stared. He doesn’t know how long it went on for because he can’t remember any of it. When he came to, the morning light was just beginning to break. He approximated a hastily dug hole with some of his ranch tools. It was nothing a bloodhound wouldn’t be able to sniff out in a couple of seconds -the driver has seen more than his share of pulpy mystery movies- but it will certainly buy him enough time for what he figures will be a two day drive, with minimal stopping.

For the rest of the day, the driver laid low indoors. When he finally got around to giving his trusty Chevrolet a cursory look-over and tune-up, it was just enough time for him to grab a few clothes together; all his cash -Paula didn’t have any, as far as he knows; the remaining bullets hidden in a matchbox; and the only thing left in this world that could bring any semblance of justice, though he knows nothing can bring back the piece of himself lost earlier that morning.

The driver wants to believe that he’s up for it; that when the time comes, he can hold the grip of his gun as steadily as he can believe the reality that has been thrust upon him, as if from above. The shock that first slashed him open and turned him inside out –forever destroying his very relation to the living- has now spread through his blood and settled into full-out septic shock.