“You always wear an apron?”
“You messed up my breakfast, bitch. I’m gonna shoot you until you can’t be made out for a person.”
Sunset was trying to decide what to do, like maybe break and run, because here she was, just sitting, nothing to protect her but hopefully being quicker than McBride, and she was thinking this when McBride stepped out quickly from behind the wall, took hold of the lantern and stepped back.
She fired.
But it was too late. Her shot hit the far wall and the silver platter fell, hit on its edge, came rolling toward her, whirled and fell flat.
Goddamn, Sunset thought. I was looking at him in the platter, and he still beat me to the punch.
The lantern, lit, appeared on McBride’s arm from behind the wall and was tossed at her. Sunset leaped away. The lantern hit behind her. A burst of flame ran up the wall, ate the wallpaper like cotton candy. Sunset felt its heat, felt her hair crinkle. She rolled away from it as McBride stepped out from behind the wall. He had a double-barrel shotgun, and when he cut loose, Sunset, already rolling, threw herself flat. The shot tore above her. She felt some of it nip at her heels and heard the window behind her blow. Then there was a sound like something growling from beyond the grave.
Sunset lifted her head, tried to put McBride in her sights, but what she saw was his amazed face. He had broken the gun open, having fired both barrels, was ready to reload, but his expression caused Sunset to turn her head, look over her shoulder.
The flames on the wall were licking out to taste the air and the grasshoppers flooding in were catching fire. They washed in a burning wave toward McBride.
McBride dropped the shotgun, covered his face as they hit him, a mass of bugs aflame. His wig burst alight, and he tried to dive to the floor, but the grasshoppers followed him down, were all over him. He rose up screaming, batting at the air, his apron on fire, and Sunset thought: You dumb sonofabitch, just roll. You ain’t on fire, it’s your apron, that stupid wig.
But he didn’t roll. The wig had become a fool’s cap of fire. He snatched it off his shiny bald head, tossed it and ran. Ran straight at Sunset. Sunset was so amazed, she didn’t shoot, and he kept going, running hard, went right past her and through what was left of the window, flames flapping behind him like a cape, insects on fire, whizzing around his head like a halo. Then the cape of fire dropped through the window and was gone and the air crackled with flames and exploding grasshoppers.
Clyde appeared to her left. He had Hillbilly with his hands tied behind his back with a twisted pillowcase. Hillbilly looked bloody and bowed, but not too bad off.
“You okay?” Clyde called.
“Almost,” she said. “He hurt bad?”
“Got some pieces in him, mostly wood from the wall. He’ll live.”
The entire wall behind Sunset was on fire and the fire was spreading. She said, “Out the front.”
“Is that all of them?” Clyde said. “Did we get them all?”
“God, I hope so.”
Sunset stood, slapped flames off her skirt where the kerosene had splattered and caught. Clyde kicked Hillbilly in the ass, said, “Move it, songbird.”
When Sunset got to the doorway, she stopped and bent over Bull. She said, “Bull?”
“Is he gone?” Bull said.
“Who?”
“That big nigger in the bowler?”
“I don’t see him anywhere.”
“That’s good.”
“I’m sorry, Bull.”
“Don’t let the peckerwoods have my body.”
“You’re gonna be all right.”
“Got a knife in my back. My legs, everything from my pickle down, gone cold, won’t move no more. We on fire? I smell smoke.”
Clyde was there with Hillbilly now. He said, “Yeah. There’s fire, Bull.”
“Let me burn,” Bull said.
“You ain’t gonna burn. Clyde, go down and put Hillbilly in the car. There’s rope in the trunk, you need it. Use it to tie his legs to his arms, throw him in the backseat, better yet, the trunk. Come back and help me with Bull-Jesus, where’s Daddy? Bull, can you hear me? Where’s Daddy?”
But Bull didn’t answer.
A moment later, Clyde came back in with Hillbilly. “There ain’t no car. Your daddy, he’s hurt.”
“Hurt?”
“Yeah. Leg is broke.” Clyde looked down at Bull. He wasn’t moving and his eyes were closed. “Bull?”
“Bull’s gone,” Sunset said, coughing at the smoke.
“Yeah, and so is this place,” Hillbilly said.
The far wall was fire, and the fire, fed by kerosene on the floor, was creeping toward them.
“Leave him,” Clyde said.
Sunset thought about that, about how he lived and what he told her, said, “Reckon so.”
Sunset took Hillbilly down, her shotgun in his back, and Clyde picked up Lee, carried him.
When they were at the bottom of the steps, Hillbilly said, “I didn’t mean for it to go this way, Sunset.”
“I have a feeling you don’t never mean for nothing to happen, but it always does.”
“I’m kind of cursed.”
“Hell, you are the curse.”
The flames were licking at the apartment and smoke was pouring out the open door and the drugstore below was starting to catch fire. The flames were so hot and bright, the grasshoppers had finally started to recede. Sunset looked up, saw them like a dark rainbow against the sky, going south, and fast, dimming the sun.
When Clyde came down the steps carrying Lee like a baby, Sunset said, “Watch this piece of dung a minute,” and left him with Hillbilly. She went around back, looking for McBride, still cautious, the shotgun at the ready.
She found McBride face forward against the overhang. There were burn marks on the ground where he had dragged himself. He was a blackened shape now, his hands like claws where he had scooped out some clay as if trying to climb up the overhang to God knows where, or maybe burrow through it.
They went across the street to the jail, Sunset with her gun at Hillbilly’s back, prodding, and Clyde carrying Lee. They put Hillbilly in the cell with Plug, and Clyde laid Lee on the bunk in the other cell, called up the town doctor, who came and looked at Lee and said he was bad.
“He’s gonna need a hospital,” the doctor said. “That leg. It might have to come off. I ain’t up for that kind of thing.”
“I got use for this leg,” Lee said, his face covered in sweat.
The doctor, who was a short fat man wearing a plaid shirt and pants that looked as if they could use a wash, said, “Yeah, but it might not have any use for you anymore. I’m gonna do my best to set it, but we got to get you over to Tyler. There’s people there better at this kind of thing than me. This ain’t no simple break. This one’s all twisted up.”
“We’ll get you to the doctor, Daddy,” Sunset said. “He don’t know that’s what will happen for sure.”