Chon’s gassed out.
Blood flows freely down his leg as he lumbers up the hill to John’s house.
He stops down the street to catch his breath and recon the scene.
There’s a car parked in the driveway, and he can make out three men inside-two in front, one in the back.
Chon takes three long breaths, drops to his stomach, and crawls across the neighbor’s yard to the back. Then he climbs the fence into John’s yard, tears another strip off his shirt, wraps it around his hand, and punches the bathroom window.
He reaches in, unlocks the window, slides it open, and climbs in.
Walks from the bathroom into the living room.
John is standing there.
Old denim shirt, jeans.