Her pistol never wavered from his face. “I guess with that hat, you’re a fan of Breaking Bad. But how would you like a bad break?”

The pork-pie hat flew from his head as Ghost stamped down with her boot heel. The bones in his left ankle separated with an audible snap.

He howled, clutching at his ruined leg. A spray of vomit added to the grime of the bathroom floor. He tried to scoot deeper into the stall but had nowhere to go. She stared on, her brown eyes framed perfectly between the folds of her face mask.

“Why are you doing this?” the injured man demanded between frantic gasps of pain. “Who the hell are you?”

Ghost crouched, her pistol lying across her thigh. She spat her next words as the man stared at the business end of the suppressor, the small but deadly black hole. “I’m the last person you’ll ever see.”

“Take the bag. There’s money and pills in there. Please, take them and go.”

Ghost glanced at the bag perched on the sink top. Six bags lay next to a small wad of cash. Each of the bags contained various coloured capsules. She picked up a bag of pinks. “I’m betting these aren’t antibiotics in here.”

“Take them,” cried the man. “Just take them and leave me be.”

She threw the pack of pills at the man. She slowly pulled aside the fabric of her mask then turned her face to show the side that remained free of scars. “You still don’t recognise me?”

“Please… I don’t know who you are.”

“That just makes it worse.”

“Please. My leg.”

“You want something for the pain?” She pointed the pistol at the bag of pinks. “Start eating them. All of them.”

“What? No! Wait!”

Ghost put a bullet through his other ankle. “Eat the damn pills or the next one goes in your balls!”

The man with the pork-pie hat managed half of the bag before he began to convulse.

12

They found all the supplies they needed in the first store they visited. As they packed the items into the trunk, Danny busied himself removing any tags or packaging while Clay checked over a couple of climbing ropes. While he didn’t foresee scaling any mountains in Mexico, he knew how handy and versatile they could be. A compact mess kit and two lightweight backpacks containing spare clothing and some ready-to-eat meals went in next. Clay groaned at the prospect of consuming vacuum-packed fare.

“Quit your whining, ya big ape. They’re better than nothing when you’re chin-strapped and starving. There’s some proper food in there as well,” said Danny. “And I’m sure we’ve time to pick up some candy bars on the way down.”

“Sounds more like it.”

“We can get some Cheetos, Ring Dings and chocolate milk.”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but none of those items upset me in the least.” Clay thumbed his nose.

Danny pointed to the weapon in Clay’s hand.