CHAPTER 10

[They stood in the wide entryway for a brief moment, coronal silhouettes.

Kin peeked over the edge of the carriage, and pushed a silent puff of air past his lips.

They walked into the garage.

-Motherfucker. Stupid motherfucker!

-What? I told you.

-Yeah, you told me. And that makes it better somehow?

-We still have 120. We'll get two with 120. I called before I left.

-So he's going to meet us?

-Yeah, in like an hour. In the sump.

-OK.

They dropped their Marlboro red boxes on the narrow concrete shelf that jutted out where the plasterboard wall ended.

This was Kin's older brother Ray, and his friend Sarge from over on Brown.

Ray flipped the top of a Zippo open with one hand, dropped it down to his side, then scraped it up along his pant leg so that it lit. Then he closed the top and did it again.

Sarge pulled a shuriken out of the soft, camel-brown wall and stepped back five or six feet. He released it quickly, the action mostly from his wrist, and the shuriken entered the wall with a powdery thud.

-To Oz?

-To Oz.

They collected their cigarettes from the shelf and walked back outside, bringing the garage door down behind them.

And it was once again dark.]