"Moses was sleeping in the Peterbilt," Reverend Justice was saying, "when all a sudden this angel came to give him a unique experience, then next thing he knows, all these demons are throwing him down on the pavement, where they start kicking and beating on him and cutting him up."

"He not have the doors locked?" Pinn said with a hint of judgment, for it was his habit to find fault with the victim whenever possible, and he was already reaching a verdict that Moses Custer might never have been attacked by demons, pirates, or anything else had he bothered to lock his doors.

"I guess not, but that don't mean he's to blame." The reverend gave Pinn a severe look.

"Hey," Cuda piped, "maybe he say what hospital he in and we go finish him off!"

"Naw, I don't think Pinn Head's Trooper Truth," Possum voiced his opinion. "Not unless he write a lot better than he talk. I think Trooper Truth the po-lice just like his name say he is. 'Cause he always talking about pirates and DNA and shit, and we better watch out he don't come after us 'cause he sure do have a way of finding out things and you already been locked up before." He looked at Smoke. "And there's a 'scription of you going around, so maybe we be better off just quittin' being pirates and maybe go get jobs at the Foot Locker or Bojangles or something…"

"Shut up!" Smoke screamed at him as the RV's aluminum door opened and Unique walked in carrying something in a plastic trash bag.

"I need some money," she said to Smoke. "You still owe me."

"Listen here, you concerned viewers out there." Pinn was pointing his finger at the camera again, once more fixated on his own ordeal. The hell with Moses Custer or anyone else. "You see a plain-looking white boy with dreadlocks, you call me right now."

"See, I told you there's a 'scription!" Possum exclaimed.

"He say anything about that queer girl who just got killed on Belle Island?" Unique asked as she stared at the TV.

"What queer girl?" Smoke asked with a yawn.

"No, but Trooper Truth did on his web, but he didn't say nothing about her being queer," Possum volunteered. "He's asking the public for tips."

Unique thought this was very funny. There were no tips. She had been invisible when she left the bar with T.T., so it wasn't possible that anybody had seen Unique and could offer tips to Trooper Truth or anyone else. Of course, becoming invisible was not without its downside. Unique had finally realized that rearranging her molecules when she pursued her Purpose was probably the reason she didn't remember much after the fact. And reliving her cruelities was the best part.

"Pick up the phone right this minute." Pinn repeated the telephone number at the bottom of the screen. "You tell the truth and we get him, I send you five hundred dollars. This is A.P. Pinn for Head to Head with Pinn. Good night," he beamed.

"Maybe we should go out and see what's around," Cat suggested, thoroughly bored by the TV show and the local news that followed. "1 get the car out from under the tarp and we can go huntin'."

"Yeah," grunted Cuda. "We're almost out of beer and I got one smoke left. Man," he got up, stretching and strutting. "Maybe we find that Custer son of a bitch and kill him in the hospital before he keep snitching on us."

"He doesn't know anything more about us," Smoke snapped at Cuda. "And if you'd killed him to begin with," he added to Possum, "we wouldn't have to worry about it."

Possum had drunk too many beers while they were out cruising for a prize the other night, and his aim had been a little off, much to his secret relief, and as best he knew, the bullet he had fired had struck Moses in the foot and knocked his boot off. "I still think we should find him," he agreed, contrary to his true feelings. "I'll get him smack in the head this time." He pretended to be as coldblooded as Smoke by pulling a nine-millimeter pistol out of the back of his relaxed-leg jeans and pointing it at the TV, as if it were a hospital bed.

"You shoot the TV, you little shit, and you're next. " Smoke jumped up and grabbed the gun and pointed it at Possum's head, snapping back the slide.

Possum swallowed hard, his eyes wide with terror as he begged, "Smoke, don't. Please! I was just kidding, you know?"

"I need my money, " Unique said in her quiet, soft voice as her eyes began to blaze and her Purpose began to create that unbearable tension inside her Darkness.

Smoke ignored her, laughing as he shot a hole in the floor. The ejected shell pinged against a lamp and he tossed the pistol back to Possum. "Or maybe I'll shoot the damn dog, since you seem to like her so much. In fact, bring her in here. "

"No!" Possum cried out. "Please, Smoke. You can't go shooting that little dog! And I don't like her, either! I can't stand that stupid dog, but we need her! So don't go wasting a bullet on her yet!"

"I'm gonna shoot her eventually, " Smoke said. "Or set her on fire, even better. But not until I'm ready to get that bitch Hammer. I'll show her for getting me locked up. Her and that fucker Andy Brazil!"

Possum reluctantly retreated to his bedroom, where he was shocked to see a photograph of Popeye in a red coat filling his computer screen. The real Popeye was sleeping on Possum's bed and noticed the scanned photograph of herself the instant Possum woke her up.

"Shit!" Possum whispered. "We can't tell Smoke about this!" he warned Popeye as he picked her up and she began to shake with excitement and fear.

Trooper Truth somehow knew that Popeye had been dognapped and was still alive! He was looking for her and encouraging the world to help him out. Of course, Popeye knew very well that Trooper Truth was Andy, because she had overheard many private conversations between Andy and Popeye's owner when the website was in the planning stages. Then Andy had suddenly disappeared, and next, Popeye had.

"I ain't gonna hurt ya, little girl," Possum was whispering in her ear. "But Smoke's mean. You know how mean he is, and we gotta make sure he don't know Trooper Truth's offering a reward for you and got everybody joining some big posse to come find you, just like on Bonanza."

Popeye didn't need to be reminded of how mean Smoke was, and she would have traded her favorite stuffed squirrel for a chance to sink her teeth into his ankle. She would be forever traumatized by the memory of that unguarded moment when her owner had let her out the front door and gotten distracted by the stove, which she wasn't sure she had remembered to turn off. It all happened so fast. Her owner ran back into the kitchen while Popeye was sniffing grass near the sidewalk, and then a black Toyota Land Cruiser suddenly roared up the street and slammed on the brakes and Possum was calling Popeye's name and holding out a treat.

"Come here, Popeye, you good little girl," Possum said as if he were the nicest human in the world. "Look what I got for you!"

Next thing Popeye knew, she was snatched up and thrown into the back of the Land Cruiser, which was driven by that vicious monster, Smoke. Popeye was sped away to the Winnebago, where she had been ever since, and every night she dreamed about her owner, who

Smoke said was dead. For a while, Popeye hadn't believed him, but by now, she had resigned herself to the probability that her owner was gone from this earth, because if she wasn't, certainly she would have found Popeye by now and sent Smoke to jail for the rest of his rotten life.

Possum held Popeye tightly and carried her back into the living room. Possum had learned to fake many things, including his feelings. He was careful to act as if taking care of their canine hostage was an inconvenience. He never let on that he and Popeye had bonded, and that the dog was perhaps the only warm spot of love in his life, except for the television reruns he watched while the other road dogs slept. Popeye cowered in Possum's lap and licked his hand.