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Carter stops directly in front of Q, commanding the attention of everyone in the food court, as he unzips my duffel bag and dumps it out on her table. Extra clothes for Rain, water bottles, trail mix, canned stew, dried fruit, beef jerky—all the shit I brought from Rain’s house, plus all the nonperishables I’ve been hoarding from my trips to CVS—tumble out like bombs. The cans hit the table and roll to the floor in a series of loud clangs and bangs, and everybody holds their breath and waits for Q to drop a bomb of her own.
Her mouth curls up on one side as she admires both the spoils and the show. “Well, well, well … what do we have here, mall cop? You tryin’ to buy a spot at the big-boy table?”
“This is Wes’s bag!” Carter declares in his best Captain America voice. The authority in his tone has me rolling my eyes.
Fucker would have made a great mall cop.
“He’s been hiding food, supplies, even bullets!” Carter turns and aims an accusing finger directly at me. “Kick. Him. Out.”
It’s an Oscar-worthy performance. I’ll give him that.
Q cackles. It starts low and deep, only in her throat. Then, it builds into something loud and psychotic. Suddenly, food and clothes go flying as she comes across the table, grabbing Carter by the face and kissing the shit out of him. He pushes her off and stumbles backward as she stands in the middle of the table, towering over him.
“You wanna act like a little bitch? I’ma treat you like a little bitch.”
“What the fuck?” Carter yells.
His mom gasps and covers Sophie’s ears even though she’s too engrossed in whatever she’s watching to know what’s going on.
“You think just ’cause I ride ya dick whenever I want that you can tell me what the fuck to do in my muhfuckin’ castle?” Q drops to her feet directly in front of Carter and shoves a sharp fingernail into his chest. “You ain’t shit, mall cop. If I should kick anybody out, it’s yo’ ass. That muhfucka’s the best scout I eva had …” Q looks directly at me as her lip curls into a sneer, and her hips gyrate back and forth. “And he looks like he could eat the hell outta some pussy, too.”
The word pussy is the match that detonates the powder keg. Loud metal scrapes echo all around us as a dozen chairs are pushed out at once. Carter’s parents stand in disgust. The runaways leap to their feet to cheer on the madness. And I shove away from the table because Carter is stalking toward me with his hands balled into fists. I want to tell Rain to get the fuck out of here, but I don’t have a chance. I’m too busy preparing for Carter to take a swing.
Which leaves her wide open for him to grab instead.
Carter wraps his long fingers around her biceps and crouches down so that they’re eye-to-eye. “Rainbow, please. Just let me explain. It meant nothing, I swear!”
Rain grunts and tries to jerk away from him, but Carter doesn’t let her go. He shakes her. He fucking shakes her, and her wide eyes asking me for help are the last thing I see before the darkness takes over.
The sound of Rain screaming is what filters in through my consciousness first. I blink—one, two, three times—and find myself kneeling on the ground. A mound of bloody flesh is gasping beneath me, spitting blood and teeth like a human volcano. I leap off of him and try to open my hands to reach for Rain, wherever she is, but my fists feel like they’ve been run through a meat grinder. There is more screaming as Mrs. Renshaw and Sophie drop to their knees beside the mangled man on the ground.
I watch their tears fall in slow motion, wondering if my bloody fists are the reason they’re crying, just before I hear Rain cry out, “Noooo!”
My head snaps in the direction of her voice a split second before her tiny body collides with mine, sending us both tumbling to the floor. The wall-rattling blast of a hunting rifle being fired indoors has me back on my feet and running, dragging Rain by the hand along with me. I don’t have to look behind us to know who fired the gun.
If somebody beat the shit out of my kid, I’d try to kill him too.
We pass the fountain without any other shots being fired and are in the home stretch toward the main entrance when Rain digs in her heels like we’re about to run off the edge of a cliff.
“Wes, what are you doing?” Her voice is shrill and terrified, and I know that I’m not done fighting yet.
I turn and level her with a commanding stare, my eyes shifting between her and the fountain every other second. “We have to leave. Now.”
“We can’t!”
“Goddamn it, Rain! Either you can run or I can fucking carry you, but we have to leave right the fuck now!”
Both of our heads jerk up as we hear the stomp, slide, stomp, slide of Mr. Renshaw’s limp coming down the hallway.
“So help me God, boy, if I catch you round here again, I’ma hang yer head on the wall like a twelve-point buck.”
The metallic clank of a rifle being cocked sends us both into motion again. I shove open the heavy exit door and pull my girl into the blinding spring sunlight. Instead of hauling ass straight across the parking lot, I head for the closest parked car, using it as a barricade until I’m sure the coast is clear. Rain is breathing heavily beside me, and I can’t tell if it’s from exertion or panic, but I don’t stop to find out.
I do what I do best.
I fucking run.
Rain
