"You want to fuck me? Or would you rather I french you?"
"French me."
She had me hard in no time. I bent her over the hood and fucked her from behind. I came. She didn't.
I put the .357 in my front pocket and went into the woods to take a leak.
While I was pissing under the stars, I pondered the idea that this night was perfect. If only I could get some sleep.
Heading back, I was about twenty feet from the car when Lynora shot at me with the Browning.
She missed, but kept shooting. I heard the bullets cutting past me. I tried to get into the cover of the trees.
Had the .357 in my hand, but I wasn't going to shoot Lynora. As far as I was concerned, she should just take the car and the drugs and the money and drive away.
But she pursued me into the woods. I kept running deeper, cursing the fact that the Browning could shoot so many bullets. I lost count of how many she had fired. At least six or seven. Maybe ten or eleven.
Anyway, I wasn't going to shoot her when she ran out of ammunition. I just wished she would get in the car and leave.
In my rush to escape, I ran into a tree and knocked myself senseless.
Seconds later, when I regained my wits, Lynora was standing over me, poised to deliver the death shot to my head.
By reflex, I aimed the .357 and blasted her one.
She crumpled to the ground beside me.
I rolled her onto her back. She was breathing hard and fast.
"You shot me!"
Her hand covered the bullet hole in her stomach. In the faint light I could see her face was white with shock. "Take me to a hospital. Please!"
I picked her up and headed for the car. All that shooting would bring out the farmers. I laid her down on the front seat beside me.
"Don't let me die."
Made it to the main road, but had no idea where a hospital might be.
"You killed me," Lynora said slowly. "You killed me."
I stepped on the gas and tried to figure out how I was going to drop her at a hospital. If I found one.
"Please hurry. I don't think I'm gonna make it."
I was speeding north on Route 51 at eighty miles an hour. Memphis was thirty miles and the road was narrow and dark.
"I'm not gonna make it," she said softly. "I'm gonna die, Raymond. I'm gonna die in this car." She was already a bloody mess.
I caressed her face. I didn't want her to die.
"Raymond," she murmured. "Stop. Stop somewhere. I don't want to ride anymore. It hurts bad. I want you to hold me. I want a shot. Give me a shot."
At that point the lights of a town came up on the horizon. A village called Senatobia. I remember, in my mind I called it Senataphobia. Fear of the Senate.
Lynora caught a glimpse of the lights, and asked if there was a hospital here.
"No."
Several miles north of Senatobia, I turned onto a side road.
"Did you ever fuck a dying girl?" Lynora asked smoothly.
I didn't answer.
"Well, don't fuck me," she said. "Not now. I hurt too much. Maybe later."
Stopped in some trees by a lake. Three tiny, distant lights out in the spacious darkness were reflected in the black water.
"I want you to give me a big shot," she said. "Heroin. A very big shot. You know."
I let her head down onto the seat and went to get the heroin out of the trunk. It was so quiet out there, I was afraid her talk might attract attention.
Cooked down a big shot and tried to find a vein by the car's interior light.
"You have to tie my arm," she said.
Tightened a necktie around her arm and pierced a vein. Drew blood in to mix with the drug, as I had seen her do, then pushed the dark red blend into her.
She began to heave. At the same time she cried about the pain. Coughing came next. Her breathing sounded as if her lungs were filling with blood.
"I'm gonna throw up," she said. And did, without further delay.
"Shall I drive on to Memphis?" I asked. "There'll be a hospital there."
"No. Stay here. I won't be much longer. We're by a lake, aren't we?"
"Yes."
"I heard the waves."
"Would you like a drink?" I asked.
She smiled. She had been pumping blood out of the bullet holes front and back and was too weak to lift a finger.
"Tell my father I love him." She gave me his name and address in New York City.
She said, "Hold me, Raymond!" right before she died.
I pulled her out onto the ground and stripped off her sexy clothes. Dragged her to the water's edge and silently launched her into the lake like a boat.
Washed my hands in the water, gathered up her clothes, and got out of there. Later, I changed clothes and got rid of all the bloody stuff. Covered the blood and barf on the front seat with a sleeping bag.
Drove straight through without stopping except for gas. Crossed the Big Muddy into Cairo in the middle of the night and arrived in Chicago Saturday afternoon.