We ran out of gas ten miles from town and Coleman pounded the steering column with his fists and screamed blasphemies. I heard Richter racking his shotgun in the back seat and that’s when I jumped out of the car, dove into the weedy culvert by the road and ran. I knew Richter was probably aiming at my back and I kept ducking and dodging until I heard the sirens and knew I wasn’t the main thing on Richter’s mind.

There was a sharp, short crack, then a sound like the last round of fireworks on the Fourth of July. I remember thinking I’d read about it in the papers the next day if I didn’t get shot or caught first. I knew Coleman was the type to surrender, but probably wouldn’t get a chance. Richter’s favorite movie was Bonnie And Clyde.

A fire blazed in my lungs, but I ran until I fell in the ditch, unsure if they were after me or if they even knew how many had been in the car. I think I passed out; I remembered daylight but when I opened my eyes the sky was dark blue and a pitiless moon glared down at me.