Page 38 of Nine

“Shoot at their tire,” he says.

I aim the gun and shoot. I miss and hit the dirt instead. I feel a bullet graze past my ear. I aim the gun directly toward their tire and shoot again. The tire explodes and the car spins, slides, and goes crashing over the side of the mountain. I jump in excitement, until I remember that Trig’s been shot. I put the gun down on the floorboard.

“What do I do?” I ask.

Trig remains silent and continues to drive. I can see the blood really pouring out of his arm now. I sit there and stare at him unable to do anything. He drives for a few more miles and then finally pulls into a rest stop. He shuts off the car engine and finally examines his arm.

“It went straight through, which is a good thing, No bullet inside.”

He takes off his shirt and rips it into pieces. I watch as he wraps it tightly around his arm. He takes a moment to relax when he’s done. His eyes close and his body slumps to the side.

“Trig?” I yell, reaching out to him.

He opens his eyes, and shakes his head really hard.

“I think I just lost a little too much blood. I’ll be fine.”

He sits up and starts up the car.

“I’ll drive. That way you can rest,” I offer.

“How do I know you’re not going to drive me into a ditch,” Trig questions.

“I just shot up a car and possibly killed a few men back there for you. I think we’re good.”

He chuckles and lets his head fall back against the seat. “You did great.”

“Not too bad for a rookie,” I say.

“Is that a phone booth over there?” he asks.

Trig, climbs out of the car and wanders toward it. I watch him take a card out of his wallet and then deposit change into the phone. He quickly dials a number and then I see his lips moving, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. He hangs the phone up and then makes another call. After he’s done, he slowly walks back to the car and climbs inside. He sits down, clearly in pain.

“Who did you call?”

“A man who’s going to help us get out of here. I called my sister too.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s on a trip in the Bahamas with the family. She’s great. She’ll be gone for three weeks.”

Trig closes his eyes in pain. I lick my lips.

“Are you going to tell me what happened to Bones?”

“Angels called him back home,” Trig quickly responds.

I cover my mouth as I imagine Bones opening the door to leave for Chinese food, and that those men were probably on the porch waiting for him. The first few bullets we heard at the cabin were of those entering Bones’ body. I think about him lying there bleeding out, as we sit here in this car.

“They shot him in the head,” Trig says. “Like he was a rabid dog. All he wanted was to be free. We both wanted the same thing. He was a slave to the game too. Poor guy was working off a gambling debt.”

I remain silent. It could have been us that they killed. I look at Trig, who is bleeding before me. He has once again managed to save me, and I can’t believe I had a small thought to shoot him earlier. Bones is right, we’re both all kinds of fucked up. Trig’s eyes are closed. I nudge him awake.

“Switch me places. I’ll drive,” I offer again.

He sits up, pops the trunk, and climbs out of the car.

“No. I need to cover up first. I can’t go where we’re going looking like this.”

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