I cannot believe this dumbass Nazi actually shot me. Alright it’s a leg; I can deal with this. Hurts like hell and my pants are soaked through, but I can deal. Who was it? Cooter and Snapper maybe? Definitely Cooter, I can deal with him, big and strong but he’s dumb as shit and couldn’t fight his way out of a wet paper bag.

But Snapper, that dude fucking scares me, like for real. It’s those glassy eyes, like someone crying without tears. They just creep me out.

It was definitely Cooter that threw me in the back of this van. Which means they probably aren’t stopping until we hit the farm out in Maroa. They wouldn’t have come for me unless Barrett said so. Fuckers caught me getting out of my truck. If I would have seen them coming they would have never even tried it.

Neither one of them are talking and there is no music on. Just the rattle of van. Gotta get this blood stopped or everything else becomes harder. Can’t fight if your heart stops or you can’t think straight. Alright what do I have on me, belt, handkerchief, wallet, pocket knife? I can feel my Camels and my Zippo still in my front pocket, They better not have crushed them getting me in here.

Alright, quiet as a mouse now, gotta get that belt around my leg before I lose anymore blood.

No sound comes from the front of the van except the rattle of the engine under the thin doghouse.

This has to be that piece of shit white van I am always seeing at the farm. No windows except up front. I can’t see anything, but we haven’t stopped yet so, which means they caught the blacktop outside South Shores and are taking the long way around. They don’t want to risk cops or anyone hearing me in traffic if I start raising hell.

Alright, now what?

No clue where I am, don’t want to attack them with the van moving. Could be a long ass walk with a bullet in me from wherever the hell we are.

Maybe I can get them to pull over?

Seizure maybe? They are dumb, they might go for it. But what if it’s just one that comes to check? Fuck it, I don’t see any other way.

Of course there is nothing I can think of that I want to do less than thrashing around in the back of this dirty ass metal box. But it only takes a second until I hear Cooter.

“Snap, pull over, something is wrong with him back there.”

I start banging my head on the floor of the van, fuck this hurts.

Then Snappers distinctive voice, “Fuck that. We aren’t stopping.”

Seriously he needs to get that shit checked out. Sounds like he eats gravel and chases it with razor blades.

“You know what Barret said, alive, or don’t come back, he might be bleeding out and seizing.”

“Spell seizure, Cooter.”

“Man, fuck you Snap. I’m not going back to Barret with a dead motherfucker in his van, he wants answers, and I will straight up throw you under the bus you little schnauzer lookin’ motherfucker.”

This shit is getting tedious, maybe if I moan a little.

“Fine.”

The van slowed and pulled off to the shoulder; I can hear the gravel crunching, as the weight of the van shifts to the passenger side.

“But give me the gun, I’ll stand back while you check him out.”

“Okay, but it isn’t loaded, I only had one bullet.”

“What the fuck do you mean one bullet?”

“We didn’t have much time when Barret said he got the call he was on his way to the bitch’s house. I didn’t want to ask for any ammo, I was…”

“You brought us out here to catch Shaker Lewis, a fucking gun selling, race traitor, meth dealer, with one fucking bullet. I should fucking kill you myself.”

“Try it little bitch.”

Both doors opened, here they come. While they are walking I can get my knife open. Sorry boys, I am not sticking around to see what the fuck Barret wants with me.

Cooter opens the door and leans in. I have never heard a more satisfying sound than the sound of my bootheel connecting to his jaw, except maybe the sound of his fat head bouncing off of the floor of the van.

Snapper doesn’t just back up and make me come to him. I’m much bigger than him, probably six inches taller, and fifty pounds heavier even as lean as I am. But there is no way I could catch him with a bullet in my leg.

But panic does weird shit to people and he leans in to check on Cooter. Sorry Snap, its been nice knowing you.

I should kill both of these Nazi bastards now that they are unconscious but I’m not heartless, I am on the other hand, petty.

Quick search of the van, keys in the ignition, good. No tool box, empty revolver. I chuck it out into the cornfield as far as I can throw it. No telling how hot that thing is and I need a damn hospital quick. Only thing in the back is jumper cables and two rolls of duct tape. Any port in a storm I guess.

I should probably just drive off, but seriously, fuck these guys, this needs to hurt.