Mark Echols climbed out his car and walked across the gravel of the Miller's Creek boat ramp. The headlights of his car illuminated the back of DJ Johnson's Caprice. DJ and Jim Brown were standing on opposite sides of the car's trunk, eyeing Echols as he approached.

"I got the message," said Echols with a hint of contempt. "Now what the hell is so all-fire important you had to wake me up in the middle of the night?"

"Billy has some work he needs done," Jim Brown said as he slipped on a pair of leather gloves. Echols noticed DJ wore a similar pair. "He said you've been doing a good job so far, but he needs to know you're as real as you say you are."

Echols felt his heart start to race. Shit, had the found him out? He blew it, he should have acted more hesitant when Billy offered him a chance to earn some money on the side. The fact that both of Billy's pet killers were wearing gloves made Echols start to fidget. They saw the discomfort on his face. DJ just smiled while Jim Brown did what he always did and stared at him with unblinking eyes.

"I just want to make some money, y'all," Echols croaked out. "I got a promotion, but the job still pays chicken shit. Helping Billy out just makes good economic sense."

"No doubt," said DJ. "But the man wants to fully initiate you into this little brotherhood of ours."

DJ reached over and popped the trunk. It sprung open and showed a man, tied and gagged resting on plastic wrap inside. He squirmed and tried to yell through his gag. Even in the dim light Echols could make out the many cuts and bruises on the man's face. He leaned in before quickly leaning back out.

"Is that George Silver?" He asked Jim Brown.

"Sure is. He fucked the man over one too many times, I'm afraid. He knows too goddamn much to be allowed to live."

"Christ Almighty, Jim Brown... he's your goddamn brother."

"Shared blood that's all," Jim Brown said coldly. "Used to be my brother before the crystal got its hooks into him. Now pull out your gun and kill him."

"Fuck you," Echols snapped. "The both of you. If you think I'm going--"

Before he could blink, both men had their own weapons out and trained on Echols.

"This is how it's gonna go," said DJ. "Either you kill George here and we dispose of the body, or we'll be getting rid of two motherfucking bodies."

Echols looked between the two men, not seeing anything other than blank stares on their faces. He cursed and reached for his service piece. George started to scream as he took the pistol out and pointed it down at him. He struggled so much the Caprice rocked and bounced with his movements. Echols pulled the trigger twice, two shots took off part of George's face and stopped his shaking. His hands shook so bad it took three times before he holstered his gun. DJ and Jim Brown said something, but it was distant and far away and he couldn't hear it. He barely remembered them leaving.

He looked up and realized he was alone out at the boat ramp. The lights from his car were the only lights in the world. What had Parker gotten him into, exactly? He saw George's face and felt the urge to puke but fought it back. He'd killed a man tonight. Not like the shit with John Norman on a rampage. He'd committed murder... for the sake of the job? That's what he told himself. Parker wanted to get Billy and Echols wanted to get Billy. A cockroach like George Silvers getting what was coming to him was part of it, right? The headlights flickered and died.

He was alone. Out in the dark wilderness with no light to guide the way.