American invaders. The North American Free Trade Agreement and others like it were the tactical nuclear strikes that destroyed us in the end. Now, our state was a monument to the shattered dreams of a hundred thousand working class heroes. It sometimes seemed like if you threw a rock in York County, you’d hit a deserted industrial park. A few of them had been rented out or converted into apartments, but most of them were populated only by spiders and rats and other scavengers—homeless people, guys down on their luck, scouring the buildings for copper and aluminum and other scrap they could sell at the junkyard. A day’s work for a day’s pay—enough change for a bottle of cheap booze or some meth. These places were built with blood and sweat, but it was despair that held them upright. Maybe it’s like that all across America. I don’t know. All I know is that it was fucking depressing.
A wire-mesh fence surrounded the site, but the crooked gate hung open, damaged by previous trespassers. We barreled right through the gap. Our bumper side-swiped the rusty gate, sending it crashing against the fence. Behind us, the Lexus slowed, barely making the turn because of the flat tire. Sparks flew up from beneath the car. Whitey was running on the rim. Yet still he followed, pushing the battered car onward. Sondra was right. He kept coming and coming. The Energizer Bunny of Death.
“Larry,” Yul coughed. “Pull over. Please?”
“Just hang on, man. Not now.”
We fishtailed, sending a cloud of dirt flying into the air behind us. I hoped it was enough to obscure Whitey’s vision. Spinning the wheel, I guided us past stacks of old skids, broken machine parts, rusty equipment, and forgotten dumpsters. We raced between two rows of metal drums. The stenciling on their sides was worn and faded. No telling what was inside them. Motor oil. Tomato paste. Toxic waste. Or maybe they were empty like the buildings around us.
Empty…like I’d felt ever since pulling the trigger.
I negotiated through the debris, splashing through puddles and darting between warehouses and sheds without slowing, trying my best to lose our pursuer. The maze of silent buildings swallowed us whole.
“Sondra, is he back there?” I couldn’t see because of all the dust.
“Is hard to tell. There is much cloud in the way. If not now, then not for long, I think. He will find us.”
“If the cops don’t first,” I muttered. “Jesus…”
“You killed those guys,” Yul said. “Shot them without even reacting.”
“In case you were fucking sleeping, dude, they shot at us first.”
He stared at me like he’d never seen me before. “What are you talking about? I was there with you in the parking lot.
“They shot at me first back in my apartment. I wasn’t taking any chances this time.”
“What? At your apartment?”
“It’s a long story, man. I’ll explain later.”
“But who were they?”
“The Russian mafia.”
“Fuck you, Larry. I’m serious.”
“So am I. You remember when we went to the Odessa?”
“Yeah.”
“Remember all those bad ass Russian guys, and the one with the white hair? The one in charge?”
“Yeah. Jesse said he was…” Yul’s eyes got big. “Jesse was right?”
I nodded.
“Does he know?”
“Who?” The Hyundai bounced over a rutted dirt field.
“Jesse. Does he know he was right?”
“Yul.” I spoke softly. “I told you, man. Jesse and Darryl are dead.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. His lips and hands trembled. He took a deep breath and exhaled, breathing out the after-stench of puke. I turned away from him. In the backseat, Sondra watched our rear, looking for Whitey.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “It all happened so…it just…”
“They’re dead.” Yul’s voice was flat, toneless. His eyes were still shut. “I thought maybe you guys were playing another joke on me. Fuck With Yul Day. But you’re not messing with me. This is really happening. I went to work this morning and now…they’re really dead.”
“Yeah.”
“And these Russian guys killed them?”
“They…yeah.”
Yul put his hand to his mouth. “I think I’m gonna be sick again.”
I pulled behind an old boiler that some company had left lying out to rust, and turned the car off. I flexed my fingers. They felt numb. Yul flung the door open and collapsed in the dirt. He had the dry heaves.
“Let’s get inside one of these buildings,” I said. “Find a place to hide before somebody sees us.”
Sondra and I got out of the car. I made sure to grab the now empty 9mm, and stuck it in my waistband again. No sense leaving behind the incriminating weapon. I wished for a moment that I’d thought to do the same with the empty .38 back at the convenience store. I should have tossed it into the dumpster with my cell phone. Of course, when the cops found my Cherokee, they’d probably search the dumpster anyway.
Yul sputtered and gagged. As we helped him up, he glanced down at my feet.
“Where are your shoes?”
“Don’t worry about our shoes right now, dude.”
“Hold up a second.” He pulled away from me and went back to the car, rummaging around in the back. He grabbed a gym bag, unzipped it, and pulled out a ratty pair of running shoes. “You’re a size ten, right?”
I nodded.
“These should fit you then. Trying to get in shape for Kim, so I’ve been running every morning after work.” He looked at Sondra. “Sorry, I don’t have a pair that would fit you.”
Sondra shrugged. “Is okay.”
Grateful, I slipped the running shoes onto my aching feet. Then we abandoned the car and hurried towards a nearby warehouse with broken, boarded up windows and faded green siding. The ground around it was covered with bird shit and garbage. Pigeons cooed on the roof. In the distance, we heard a car engine revving. The engine sounded as sick as Yul. Fainter still was the wailing sound of emergency sirens.
“Is Whitey.” Sondra quickened her pace. “We go faster.”
I’d noticed something about Sondra’s usage of the English language. Sometimes she spoke fine, and other times she sounded like she’d just learned her first American words. At first, it was cute. Then it became a little annoying. But now, I’d figured it out. It seemed like the more stressed she got, the more broken her English became.
“I’m dizzy,” Yul moaned. “Wait up a second.”
“Nyet,” Sondra snapped. “I said we go faster. Hurry.”
I grabbed Yul’s arm and steadied him. “Let’s listen to the lady. Come on.”
He looked up at me and flashed a weak smile. “It’s going to be okay, right, Larry?”
“Sure,” I lied. “We’re gonna be fine.”
“I’m worried about Kim. She doesn’t know where I am.”
Even with everything that had happened, Yul’s first concern was for Kim. I thought about how nice it must be to have someone in your life like that. Someone that you cared about above everything else. Someone you’d move mountains for. Someone you’d kill for. I wanted a love like that.
And then I looked at Sondra and realized that I already had it.
“Let’s get inside,” I said.
Sondra and Yul flattened themselves against the side of the warehouse while I reached through the broken glass and pressed on the plywood covering the window. It was brittle and loose, deteriorated from constant exposure to the elements. The windows were low to the ground.
There was still no sign of the Lexus, but it sounded closer than before. As I pushed on the plywood, the engine sputtered and died. There was a faint thump—a slamming car door, and then a muffled shout. Whitey was back to speaking Russian again.
“What’s he saying?” I asked Sondra.
