Kill Whitey by Brian Keene Page A

she’s visiting her parents in Williamsport. Why?”
    I closed my eyes and mouthed silent thanks. At least Kim was out of harm’s way.
    “No reason, man. Just didn’t want her waiting up for you and getting worried.”
    “Who are you and what did you do with Larry? Did Jesse and Darryl put you up to something? You guys never show concern about Kim. The hell is going on?”
    Again, I couldn’t speak. My throat clicked. Tears ran down my face.
    “I’ll see you soon,” I rasped. “Get back to work before you get in trouble.”
    I ended the call and stared at my cell phone, aimlessly scrolling through the address book. Darryl and Jesse’s names flashed by on the screen. I couldn’t believe this shit was happening. I felt so numb inside. Maybe it was shock, or maybe it was some sort of defense mechanism—my brain shutting down, refusing to think about all that had occurred in the last few hours. I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. If they had, maybe I would have felt better.
    I realized that Sondra was staring at me. I slipped the phone into my pocket and tried to smile in reassurance. Sondra patted my hand and smiled back.
    “What are you thinking, Larry?”
    “I wish we’d have taken the car along with their guns.”
    “Why?”
    “Because it would be a lot easier to meet up with Yul if we weren’t riding in a vehicle that every cop in the state is probably looking for by now. Do you have a car?”
    “No. Whitey not let us own things like that. American girls, do. Not Russians.”
    I leaned back and sighed. It occurred to me that I should check the guns. The .38 was empty. I’d fired the last rounds at Whitey. Vacheslav’s pistol, the one Sondra had remembered to nab, was a Glock 9mm. It took me a few seconds to figure out how to eject the clip—or magazine. Whatever the fuck it was called. There were five bullets left. I slid the clip back into the weapon.
    “What else are you thinking?” Sondra asked.
    “I’m worried about Webster.”
    “The fuzzy cat?”
    “Yeah. The fuzzy cat. We left so quickly, I didn’t even think. When we…when we saw Darryl, I forgot all about Webster. He’s still in there.”
    “I am sure he is fine.”
    “Maybe. But if the cops leave the door open he could get out. And who’s gonna take care of him? No way we can go back there right now. He could end up at the pound. Or…”
    “What?”
    “Or that fucking prick Whitey could do something to him.”
    “Whitey would get away before police arrive. He not have time to worry about fuzzy cat.”
    “Maybe,” I said, “or maybe the sick fuck shoots Webster on his way out. Just to prove a point, you know?”
    I ground my teeth. My head ached.
    “Fuzzy cat is smart,” Sondra said. “Will hide, no?”
    “Probably. But I’ll tell you right now, if Whitey hurt Webster, I’ll fucking kill him.”
    Sondra’s laughter shocked me. I stared at her, wondering what was so funny. Was it that I was showing concern for my cat, when two of my best friends were dead, too?
    “I sorry,” she apologized, “but what you say…”
    “What? Mind letting me in on the joke?”
    “You say you kill Whitey.”
    “How is that funny?”
    “Is not funny.”
    “Then why are you laughing?”
    “Never mind. Is not important.”
    Before I could insist on an explanation, she slid closer and leaned against me. I wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Sondra snuggled against me, laying her head on my chest. Her hand rested on my leg, just below my crotch.
    I sighed. “You know what I don’t get?”
    She looked up at me. “What?”
    “Why Whitey and the others would go through all this trouble. I mean, it’s not like you stole money from them or something. You’re pregnant. Why all this? It seems sort of extreme, don’t you think? Kill a woman and a bunch of other people just because she won’t get an abortion?”
    Sondra flinched. Her fingernails dug into my leg.
    “Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t mean to upset you. It just