She had nothing, now, without a purpose.

“And what’s your purpose, you broke-ass bitch?” she asked herself. As often happened, the sound of her own voice surprised her.

Closing her right eye, she focused her attention on the small radio, its perforated case and folding handle. Allowing her vision to drift in and out of focus she confirmed what she already knew. She had pronounced blurred spots in her left eye. They weren’t going away. They weren’t getting any better. Were they getting worse? She wasn’t sure. Would she go blind?

“You won’t live long enough to go blind. Save your worries for something that matters a damn.”

She picked up a compact from a small bag at the foot of her sleeping bag. The clamshell opened to reveal the circular mirror. The ruined features that stared back seemed to mock her in their severity.

“They thought you were dead. But you’re not. Not yet.” A tear rolled down the raised mesh of scars that was once flawless ebony skin. Discarding the mirror, she lay down and forced the tears back. “Too much left to do, but I won’t stop. They’ll have to kill me for real next time. Don’t worry, Lauren, I’ll take as many of them with me as I can.”

Another extended squawk sounded through the canopy. “Yeah, spider monkey.”

Ghost reached for the shotgun, a pump-action Remington. She laid the weapon across her chest, hugging the blued barrel as a child would cuddle a soft toy. Sleep crept upon her like a thief in the night.

Outside, the spider monkey gave another vigorous hoot before falling silent.

18

The trees and foliage that encircled the bar loomed around the single-storey structure like a sentient beast from a Lovecraftian tale. Long curving branches pointed accusatory fingers as if in silent and sinister warning. Shades of dark emerald intermingled with dried leaves and fronds the colour of late summer straw. The area in front of the bar was bare earth, hard packed and spotted with chunks of weathered limestone. A pothole deep enough to break an axle in lay like a punji-trap for unwary drivers. No red cow offered a greeting at this bar, but the bass line of rock music that cut through the humid air with a steady boom-boom-boom told them this was the place.

Clay avoided the pothole and parked the Jeep to the left of the doorway. The door to the bar was open, wedged by a chunk of limestone that looked like anaemic coral.

“You want to play it the same as the last place?” asked Clay.

Danny stared at the open doorway. A faint tingle ran its way down the length of his spine. It was a feeling he had experienced many times previously, a feeling he knew better than to ignore. The men in this bar would be armed. Armed and more than willing to use their weapons. “I’ll go in first, but we need to step lightly here.