We had only known each other for a few weeks, but had seemingly grown close enough that my apartment was first on the list for hiding from the law.
Hiding from the truth.
Russell and Jimmy shared a shower while I opened beers.
Wrapped in towels they told their tale.
Bored, borrowing (without permission) a friend's car to go into the city to dance.
In the cool, winter, Atlanta rain the scuffle escalated. The guy punched Russell. Jimmy stepped in. He was punched and fell to the ground. He reached out to support himself so that he could rise up.
His hand brushed the brick.
One slug into the guy's head. Lots of blood.
Silence.
The drugs were still safe in the car.
They drove through the rain to my apartment.
We sat quietly until the sun rose.
The Challenger exploded a few hours later bringing the death toll to eight.
