I took the rockets from my back pockets and gathered everything into one hand; then scrabbled to our usual spot—a horizontal slab they called a stele (in this case dedicated to someone killed in Iraq), and began setting up. “How do you know she’s even alive?”
“I told you; I saw her at the fairgrounds, before the Guard caved. She was right there in the soup line. Didn’t see Loverboy, though—guess he must have gotten himself vanished.” He rolled onto his side in the tall grass and started planting rockets. “She’s alive, all right. Alive and home; with a trunk full of w**d, I bet.”
He paused, glaring at the house. “I know that bitch.”
I finished my rows and took out my Bick; followed his gaze.
“Looks pretty quiet,” I said.
“Yeah.” He readied his lighter. “But we can fix that.”
And we st
