Pistol Fanny's Hank & Delilah Read Free Page B

fright. He said it was hereditary.
    I turned my attention back. Their voices were raised, the argument heated. Booty reached for the gun again. He pointed it in the air and then pulled the trigger. One blasting shot went off. I clicked the camera. Birds flew from the trees as Fat Squirrel came jumping through the window, scaring the toots out of me.
    Booty had the gun pointed toward Judge Pilgrim. Judge Pilgrim’s hands were up in surrender. I clicked again; neither of them seemed to notice. Judge Pilgrim took off running and Booty, being the coward that he was, shot him in the back. His body went falling forward, a patch of leaves scattering around him as he tried to crawl away. Click , click .
    Booty walked over to Judge Pilgrim, stood over his body, said something—I held the camera as steady as I could and kept my finger halfway pressed down—and when he pointed the gun at the man’s head, I started clicking.
    Pop-click-pop-click, click, click, click.
    It took me a moment to realize I could stop. There were no more gunshots and Booty was walking away, toward us again. I quickly withdrew my arm from the window, pasting my back against the wall.
    I noticed there was liquid seeping from the closet. Either Curly or Jesse must’ve pissed their pants. Oh, God Almighty, I hoped with all the free hope roaming around in the world that the river of it wouldn’t trickle out and hit Booty in his head. It wasn’t raining, so he’d assuredly know it was coming from Wild Thang.
    I decided to steal a peak out the window again to see where his position was. He was standing over the dead cigarette man again, starting to strip him of his clothes. He stopped for a moment, looked up, right in my direction. I froze. His eyes were hard and cold. I couldn’t move. What’s almost worse than knowing? Not knowing.
    Booty was holding the man’s arm. He let it go, the dead weight plopping down on the ground with a solid thud, pushing a few of the leaves beneath him away. “If there is anyone around here, you better come out right now. If I find you, if you’re hiding from me, it’s only going to make things worse for you. I like games. And I always win,” he spat.
    Don’t say anything, Toots…not a damn thing. Keep very still and pretend like you’ve passed out, like Jesse does. Keep steady, keep steady, he’s walking and he’s looking around. That must mean he doesn’t see you, he doesn’t know. He’s just threatening…keep very still…keep very still…
    Booty took the gun out again and pointed it toward the tree. His finger pressed heavily on the trigger, bullets flying out on command. I flinched and then dropped to the floor. I heard the gunshots pierce through the wood, but I didn’t know where they peppered, or if they hit anything.
    I didn’t even know if I was—Oh, God Almighty, I could be hit! I ran my hands over my body but I seemed to still be in one piece. No holes or meaty pieces hanging from anywhere.
    Things quieted down soon after. I took the pack of spearmint gum out of my pocket and popped two white squares. A few steady breaths, some hard chewing, and I stood up, as quiet as a church mouse, and looked out the window again.
    Booty had dragged poor, dead cigarette man toward Jude Pilgrim, his face shoved in the ground like a piece of trash. I had never hated anyone so much in my life. Hated or feared someone so much. There’s a thin line between fear and hate, and it’s a real easy bridge to cross.
    I grabbed the camera again, clicking as he undressed them both, dragging them to unknown parts of the woods.
    I couldn’t help but grin at this satisfaction. Booty made two very grave mistakes that day in the woods.
    I saw exactly where he buried Judge Pilgrim; between two tupelo trees. Tommy had carved a picture of Fat Squirrel on each one—always having to do two of each—as part of a map to Wild Thang, just in case we forgot where it was.
    I realized then he must have planned this because he put on