The Broken Lands by Kate Milford

is.”
    Jin drank the glass in a gulp and sputtered while her throat and stomach blazed. “It’s not
good
whiskey,” she managed.
    The two men, who were in the midst of exchanging a meaningful look, turned and stared at her. “What on earth do you know about whiskey, young lady?” the hatless man demanded.
    â€œI know the good stuff doesn’t burn your eyebrows off before you drink it. I’ve been to Kentucky.” She put a hand to the side of her head and winced as her fingers found a knot that felt, impossibly, to be about the size of an egg.
    â€œI
told
you not to breathe the fumes, and this’ll do just fine for medicinal purposes.” He held out the fabric bundle. “Put this on your head.”
    The bundle was full of ice. Jin sighed and closed her eyes. “Thank you.”
    The two men stood, hands in their pockets, having whole silent conversations with their faces while Jin held the ice pack to her head. She opened her eyes, about to ask what had happened, when she remembered.
    â€œThere was . . .” She licked her lips again and steadied her voice. “There was a body in the alley. That’s why I was screaming.”
    The hatless man turned on his heel and headed back to the bar. “Bring the good stuff this time,” the other one called. Then he turned back to Jin and leaned his elbows on his knees.
    â€œMy name’s Walter Mapp,” he said. “That’s Jasper. This is his place.”
    Jin nodded, but she wasn’t listening; she was just seeing clumped newspapers slide from a mangled, vaguely human shape. Over and over.
    â€œStop picturing it,” Mapp said sharply. “Don’t do that.”
    â€œYou didn’t see it,” she said thickly.
    â€œYes, I did,” he told her. “I went back with the fellow who brought you in. He didn’t want to get involved with the police himself. You were out for nearly an hour, sunshine. A lot’s happened.”
    â€œIt was terrible.” Another glass materialized in her hand. She stared into it. “It was torn up so badly—couldn’t tell if it was wearing ripped clothes or ripped skin.” She looked up at Mapp. “What did that? What
could?
”
    Before Mapp could answer, the door of the saloon burst open and Uncle Liao and Mr. Burns all but sprinted across the room.
    â€œIs she all right?” Mr. Burns demanded. “Jin, are you all right?”
    â€œYes, sir. Wait—where did
you—
?”
    â€œDon’t bother with
sir
while we’re ascertaining whether you’re alive or not!” Liao ordered.
“
Xiao Jin,
ni shou shangle ma?”
He took her head between his gnarled hands, tilted it so that he could peer into her eyes.
    â€œ
Wo toutong.
I hit my head,” she added for Mr. Burns’s benefit.
    Liao moved the ice pack away from her scalp and examined the knot. Then he plucked the glass from her fingers, sniffed, turned to Jasper, and gave him an approving grunt. “Drink, fi­refly. Little sips, while we talk to these men.”
    Mr. Burns managed a pat on her knee before Liao swept him away to where Walter Mapp and Jasper now stood a little distance off. Jin took a sip from the glass and looked up to find the boy named Sam, the one from Culver Plaza, lingering near the door.
    He came to sit in the chair Mapp had vacated. “You remembered what I said.”
    Jin looked over to where the four men stood deep in conversation. “How did Uncle Liao and Mr. Burns get here?”
    â€œYou mentioned my name,” Sam told her. “When you asked for the Reverend Dram. The fellow who found you brought you here and then came to find me.”
    She snorted. “In all of Coney Island there’s only one Sam?”
    â€œIt’s a small place,” Sam replied with a shrug. “They know me here.”
    â€œAnd I told you where the display was going to be tonight. That’s how you