Headstone City

TWENTY-NINE

Death is nothing. We beat it a long time ago, when we went through the windshield,” Vinny said. “You telling me you didn't know that? Here, watch.”

Vinny yanked the.38 up in a beautiful move, showing just how incredibly fast he was, no one could ever have a chance against him. He pressed the barrel under his chin and gave a grin that made Dane start to groan.

Dane leaped forward and grabbed Vinny's hand, twisting it backwards so he'd drop the gun. But he wouldn't let go. Somebody pounded on the doors of Dane's skull, wanting to be let in, or out. There was hardly any room to move. Dane chopped at Vinny's collarbone, once, twice, hearing it snap. It just made Vinny yelp and tug harder until the.38 was pointed at Dane's gut.

The bullet took Dane low in the stomach and punched him backwards against the driver's door. He hit hard, the window cracking beneath his head. He felt everything rip inside him and slosh to the left. He opened his mouth and red foam bubbled over his chin. He was going to die with no style at all, but at least he was still behind a steering wheel.

“You stupid, lousy prick,” Vinny said, still smiling, shaking his head, with his busted collarbone poking up a half inch through his raincoat. “You got shit and black blood coming out your belly now. That means you're finished.”

Vinny coughed and panted, pressed a hand to Dane's clammy cheek, and told him, “Don't do that again. Right?”