He tossed the bag. He saw clothes and a razor. He saw hate tracts. He checked the closet. He checked the shelf. He saw a box of fuses-half full.

He saw a Mossberg pump. He saw a.45. He saw a.357 mag.

He grabbed the pump. He dumped the shells. He grabbed the.45. He popped the hot round. He popped the clip.

He grabbed the mag. He popped the cylinder. He dumped the shells. He pulled the rug up.

He hid the ammo. He shut the closet door. He killed the room lights. He sat down. He pulled his piece. He cocked the hammer.

He leaned on the bed. He faced the door. He counted rabbits fullout.

He dozed. He cramped up. He heard chants outside. Two words-say two blocks out.

"Freedom" and "nigger"-two words overlapped.

The sun arced-light cut through window shades-shades going black.

Littell dozed. Littell stirred. Littell heard siren bursts. Short bursts-per stalled traffic.

He got up. He walked outside. Tenants mingled. Tenants rebel-yelled.

A man laughed. A man went "Ka-pow!"

A man said, "A nigger church just went ka-blooey."

Littell ran.

He cut left. He ran two blocks. He passed the egg huts. His coat flapped. His piece showed. Some egg men perked up.

They chucked eggs. They hit him. They dosed his pants. They grazed his head.

He hit the main drag. He cut right. He pushed through pickets. He ate eggs. He ate picket signs.

He slid. He hit eggshells. He tripped. A redneck kicked him. A marcher kicked him for kicks.

Horns. Sirens. Shouts-street blockade dead ahead. Egg trucks and egg men. An ambulance stalled and bucked.

Rednecks ran over. Marchers ran over. Fat cops ran up slow. They hit the blockade. They yelled. They shoved.

The blockade held. Pushing and shoving. Horns/sirens/shouts.

Littell got up. Littell dripped eggshells. Littell ran over fast. The cops saw him. Looks traveled-check Johnny Fed.

Littell pulled his badge. Littell pulled his gun. The cops smirked. The egg men smirked. The marchers stepped back.

Louder now: Yahoos and nigger yells. Horns/sirens/shouts.

Littell grabbed an egg man. Said egg man smirked. Littell smashed his face on his truck. He hit the door. He hit the ground. His false teeth popped out and cracked.

The egg men stepped back. The cops stepped back. The cops bumped the marchers. The cops brushed picket signs.

Littell cracked the door. Littell jerked the brake. The truck rolled. The truck hit a light pole. The ambulance swerved and cut through.

Littell stepped back. Eggs hit his glasses. Tobacco juice hit his shoes.

o o o

Gutted:

Scorched timber/wet timber/wet dirt. Two dead-a boy and his dad.

The bomb hit a 4:00 p.m. service. The bomb made a floorboard blast. It reached up. Pews shattered. Wood sheared.

Littell mingled.

He saw the meat wagons. He saw the dead. He saw a boy with no toes. He saw fire trucks. He saw TV trucks. He saw some Klan youth.

They kliqued up. They klanvoked. They klowned for kamera krews.

Littell mingled.

He drew stares. He smelled like egg. He dripped shells and yolk.

Some marchers showed. Some Feds showed. The marchers consoled the victims. Folks bled and wept.

Medics hauled gurneys. Medics hauled vics. Meat wagons hauled Code 3.

Littell tailed them. Littell watched them unload. Folks limped. Folks hobbled. That boy held his toes.

The clinic was old. The clinic was unkempt. A sign read Colored Only.

Littell watched. The Feds watched Littell. Nurses pushed IV stands. A woman fell. The toe boy convulsed.

Littell drove to a liquor store. Littell bought a pint of good scotch.

75

(Bogalusa, 6/21/65)

Radio rock:

Hatenanny stuff. "Who Needs Niggers?" and "Ship Those Niggers Back." Katchy. Kool kombos. Kall-ins on K-L-A-N.

Pete dipped his seat. Wayne watched the door. Door 5-the Rebel's Rest Motel.

Chuck was out. Pete was right. Chuck shagged to Bogalusa. Chuck diced his folks. Chuck stole their car. Chuck shagged his ass here.

They tossed the house. They found body parts. They found no hit notes. They drove east. They called motels. They found Chuck.

They drove fast. They drove fried. No sleep since Saigon. They stopped in Beaumont. They scored bennies. They revitalized.

Pete told Wayne the hit story. Pete spieled full disclosure.

He named names. He dropped details. He spieled perspective. He blew Wayne's mind. He framed Wayne's own Dallas tale.

Wayne talked up Wayne Senior. Wayne Senior fed the hit fund. Wayne Senior ran snitch-Klans. Wayne Senior ran Bob Relyea now.

Pete said it: Wayne Senior runs _YOU_.

Radio rock: Odis Cochran/the Coon Hunters/Rambunctious Roy.

Wayne flipped the dial. Wayne caught a newscast.

"… leaky pipe explosion at a Negro church outside Bogalusa, which civil-rights agitators have called a 'bomb blast.' A spokesman for the Federal Bureau of Integration said that early evidence points to a faulty gas main."

Pete turned it off. "That's the Feds. They got to the radio people."

Wayne popped two bennies. "They know it's Bob."

Pete sipped RC. Bennies parched him bad.

"They've got a hunch, and they want to cover their bets. They didn't tell him to do it, they didn't want him to do it, but he figured he could get away with it, and if they made him for it, they'd let him slide and warn him not to do it again."

Wayne watched the doors. Night-lights bipped above them. Doorways glowed blue.

"You think Bob's with Chuck?"

Pete cracked his knuckles. "I hope not. I don't want to kill a Federal employee who's hooked up with your dad."

Wayne grabbed the RC. "I don't like the chronology. Chuck gets the letter, Chuck flies home and clips his parents. He's _probably_ got the journal, and he _might've_ told Bob about the hit."

Pete cracked his thumbs. "We'll ask him about that."

Wayne sipped RC. An Olds pulled up. Pete made the plates: PDL-902.

Chuck got out. Chuck picked his teeth and swaggered. Chuck entered room #5.

Wayne said, "He's alone."

Pete popped two bennies. Wayne grabbed their guns. Pete tapped the silencers. They pulled up their shirttails. They stuffed the guns down. They covered the grips.

They walked over. The room-row rocked-shitkicker tunes and full tenancy.

Wayne tried the door. It was locked. Pete shouldered it. The jamb cracked. The lock split. They rode the door in. There's this shit room-but where's Ch-

Chuck exits a closet. Chuck has two guns. Chuck aims and fires. Two hammers click. Chuck fucking plotzes. Chuck fucking _shits_.

Pete charged him. Pete grabbed him. Pete threw him down. Wayne shut the door. Wayne tossed his cuffs. Pete snagged them.

Chuck crawled. Chuck tried to run. Pete grabbed his hair. Pete banged his head on the floor.

Wayne cuffed him. Pete picked him up. Pete threw him into a wall. He hit hard. He made dents. He hit the floor.

Wayne knelt down. "Did you tell Bob about Dallas?"

Chuck dribbled blood. "I told your daddy you're a punk motherfucker."

"Did you and Bob bomb that church?"

Chuck dribbled bile. "Ask Daddy Rabbit. Tell him Wild Rabbit's his boy."

Pete grabbed a hot plate. Pete plugged it in. Pete sparked the coils.

Wayne said, "Where's the notes your parents found?"

Chuck pissed his pants. "Wild Rabbit says fuck you. Father Rabbit says he's your daddy."

Pete dropped the hot plate. It hit coil side down. It singed up Chuck's hair.

Chuck screeched. The coil sizzled. Chuck yelled, "All right!"

Wayne grabbed the hot plate. Wayne grabbed a pillow. Wayne fluffed out Chuck's hair.