The Many Deaths of the Firefly Brothers Read Online Free

and stumbled out.
“Where are you going?” Jason opened his own door, following. Whit
was pacing in quick strides on the dry grass, running his hands through his
hair.
“Whit. Get in the car. All I know is that until the news spreads, most
cops still think we’re on the prowl, so if anyone ID’s us
we’re in for a gunfight.”
“A gunfight? Who cares? What’ll they do, kill us again?” Whit
stoppedmoving, his hands on his hips. Behind him
cornstalks gossiped in the wind.
“What do you think would happen if I shot myself right here?” Whit
took the pistol out of his pocket and pointed it at his chest.
“I’d have to clean up one of your messes, as usual.” Jason
sighed. “C’mon, brother. It’s late. We need to get some
gasoline while we can.”
Whit was on the verge of tears. “Whit,” Jason said, stripping the
impatience from his voice. “Put the gun in your pocket and sit down.
Let’s just bandage ourselves up and sit for a while. All right?”
Whit finally obeyed. Jason reached into the Pontiac and pulled the gauze and
dressing out of the glove compartment, then stepped aside so his brother could
sit. No cars passed.
Whit unbuttoned his shirt as Jason unwound some gauze. He dared to glance at
his brother’s chest; fortunately, he could barely see the bullet hole in
the dark, could pretend it was just a large bruise. He placed the gauze against
it. “Hold this here,” he said, and after Whit’s fingers
replaced his he taped down its edges. “All right.”
Then Jason unbuttoned his own shirt, and this time Whit taped the makeshift
bandages onto his brother’s chest. The wounds weren’t bleeding and
didn’t hurt at all, so the bandages served no purpose other than to
remove these monstrous questions from view.
“Good as new,” Jason said, patting his brother on the shoulder.
Then he saw headlights, far away but approaching.
“C’mon, we have to get going,” Jason said.
They drove another half mile to the filling station, a tiny glimmer of
financial life beside a shuttered general store and a collapsed barn.
“Lean your head to the side like you’re sleeping,” Jason
said. “I don’t want you talking to anyone right now.”
Whit did as he was told, grumbling something his brother couldn’t hear. A
moment later, a gangly teenager in overalls yawned as he walked toward the
Pontiac.
“Evenin’,” Jason said after shutting off the engine.
“I’d like two dollars’ worth, please.”
“All righty.” After the kid grabbed the spigot and fastened it to
the Pontiac, he asked if they’d heard the news.
“What news is that?”
“They killed the Firefly Brothers, late last
night.”
“That right?”
“S’all over the radio. Local boys did it, not the feds. Caught
’em at some farmhouse in Points North. Shot ’em up real good.
Brothers took a cop with ’em, though.”
“How ’bout that.” Jason looked down at the pavement.
“Radio say if they killed the brothers’ girls, too?”
The kid thought for a moment. “I don’t remember. That’d be a
shame, though,” and he offered a gawky grin. “They’re real
lookers.”
“They certainly are.”
“Can’t believe they killed the Firefly Brothers, though. Gonna cost
me a two-dollar bet to my own brother—I said they’d never be
caught.”
“They’re always caught eventually. Sorry to hear about your two
bucks.”
“Tell me about it.”
They were silent as the tap clicked every few seconds. The smell of gasoline
seeped through Jason’s window.
“Two dollars’ worth,” the kid said, placing the handle back
on the latch.
Jason handed the kid a five with his un-inked hand and pocketed the change.
Then he looked the kid in the eye and extended his hand again. “And
here’s your two bucks.”
“Huh?”
“For losing your bet. Pay this to your brother.”
The kid looked at him strangely. “That’s kind of you, sir, but
I’ll be all right.”
“I don’t like hearing about young lads already in debt. Take it and
pay your