Picking my way through jammed traffic, behind me, Matt stirs and groans. Twisting around, I risk a look back…
He’s not going anywhere. Blood, most of it his, drips from the walls where he spurted, pooling on the floor. A trickle drips from the dashboard where I stashed the scalpel. The sucker curls up around himself from where I stuck him. His whimpering’s getting on my nerves.
Should I finish the job?
More important things to do…
Under the uniform, the s***h on my hand throbs. That bastard’s blade sliced through skin and impacted the bones. If he’d gotten a better angle at me, it could have smashed every bone in the hand. As it is, skin and the thin flesh is sliced loose, and despite the elastic bandage holding it together for now, blood oozes through saturated fabric, dribbling free.
