The Kings Of Cool

242

Chon watches Crowe get out of the car and stand over Brian’s body, making sure.

There’s not a lot of doubt. Brian’s lifeless eyes stare up at the moon and a pool of blood forms beneath his head.

Chon slides the van door open and drops to the ground. Belly-crawls around until he sees Crowe swinging his gun at the sound.

Crowe sees him and fires.

But Chon has already dropped into a low crouch. Can’t shoot the man, can’t take a chance on killing him, so he drops the shotgun, lunges, and tackles Crowe at the waist, driving him into the sand.

Fifty-eight thousand fucking times he practiced on the sand south of here, down on Silver Strand, but he’s weak now, and rusty, so he lets

Crowe’s gun hand come around as he tries to jam the gun barrel into Chon’s head and the shot is deafening, a roar like a big wave going off and Chon feels the burn and his head roaring as he gets his knee up and drives Crowe’s arm to the sand and traps it there, but Crowe is big and strong and he pounds his left fist into Chon’s ribs, then the side of his head, bangs his hips up and bridges his back, trying to buck Chon off, but Chon slides up and gets his other knee on Crowe’s left forearm and now he kneels on the man’s arms, feels the blood running hot down his face, his pulse slamming in his neck and he takes his thumbs and presses them into Crowe’s eyes.

Chon’s forearms quiver with exertion, he’s trying to hold it until Crowe screams and drops the gun and yells, “Enough!”

Chon grabs Crowe’s pistol and gets off him, holding the gun on him.

Crowe rolls onto his stomach, presses his palms into his eyes, and moans, “I can’t see, I can’t see.”

Chon walks over to his shotgun and picks it up. He feels blood seeping out of his left leg where the wounds have opened up from the fight. When he comes back, Crowe is on his knees, trying to get up.

Chon kicks him back down.

Presses the shotgun barrel into his neck.

“Who do you work for?”

“They’ll kill me.”

“They’re not your worry right now,” Chon says. “I am. Who do you work for?”

Crowe shakes his head.

Chon’s out of wind and his leg starts to throb. He says, “They wouldn’t die for you.”

Crowe gives him a name.

It hits Chon like a blow to the chest.

He leans over and says, “Tell me the truth. Did you kill those two kids?”

Crowe nods.

Chon pulls the trigger.

Sorry, Ben.

He drags Crowe’s body over by Hennessy’s, then puts the shotgun in Hennessy’s hands and lays the pistol by Crowe’s.

Justice or revenge.

Either way.

Taking his knife, Chon cuts a strip off his shirt and presses it against the open wound on his leg.

Then he notices that it’s raining.