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was open.
    The bedroom door was gone.
    Hassan sat up and an icy draft abused his bare torso. Just as he squinted in the sunlight, Edy’s grandfather filled the doorway.
    He was dressed in camouflage with a rifle on one shoulder.
    “You. Up. Now.”
    Water dropped into his belly. Ice froze his veins. Did Frank know he wore nothing under this blanket? Dumb question. The rifle was right there.
    Hassan gusted out an exhale. Only he could flee violence in Boston to get gunned down on a Kentucky farm. Well, he didn’t care what Edy’s grandfather said. No one would shoot him naked. Which meant he had to actually get up. Hassan toed around for his boxers in bed, found them, and jerked his foot upward, all the while keeping an eye on her stoic grandpa.  He jarred Edy as he managed to pull the underwear back on.
    She stirred and yawned leisurely. “Hassan! Awake or asleep. You get so fidgety sometimes.” She elbowed and half missed, face dreamy. But was she crazy? Did she think them back in Boston? He wanted to scream at her to at least wake up and watch him die.
    That’s when she opened an eye, made a crazy cat sound, and sat bolt upright, dragging all the covers as she pinned them to her chest.
    “Oh my God, are you serious?” Edy cried.
    Her eyes brimmed as he climbed out of bed and into yesterday’s jeans. For Frank’s part, he stood as still as if painted on a wall. Except, he still had an eye on Hassan and a hand on his rifle. Was this a mind game of some sort? If so, dude had already won.
    “Listen,” Edy said. “It’s not his fault. I pushed him into this. I always push him into … this.” She cringed. “Take it out on me. Please. I’m begging you.”
    “Cake,” Hassan said as he shrugged into a sweatshirt. “Don’t.” He wouldn’t be able to walk out if she didn’t hold it together. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve got this.”
    “You’ve got what?” she cried. “Getting shot?”
    She had a point there. He didn’t have the Green Mile thing down.
    This would’ve been comical had it not actually been happening. But this was bravado, right? Frank couldn’t expect to get away with murdering him. Not that the thought held any comfort; he had to die for someone to try and get away with it all. He supposed the man before him could pull it off. He looked sharp and determined. Technically, Hassan figured, tons of people got away with murder all the time. He watched TV enough to know that. At that moment, he imagined a guy eating popcorn with a grin of accomplishment spread wide. It would only take Frank a pull of the trigger and a good idea to be that guy and ‘good idea’ was assuming Gaitlin police were sharp in the homicide department. He didn’t even want to get into the farmland good for burying behind the Reynolds’ house. So, yeah, rest in peace Hassan Pradhan.
    “Let’s go!” Frank said and Hassan jumped right into his Nikes.
    Now would be a good time to form a plan.
    “I’m coming,” Edy announced. “Wherever you’re talking him, I’m going.”
    She jumped up; blanket and sheets wrapped around her, and made life a thousand times worse. Look. He loved her. Loved her past mountain tops, over desert ranges, and through shark-infested seas, yadda yadda. But the last thing he needed was her flaunting her nakedness right now.
    “Outside,” Frank said and about faced out the door.
    Edy maneuvered within a cocoon of blankets as she worked on getting dressed. Hassan grabbed his coat and followed Frank. He sped up when Edy shouted his name.
    Around back, the property sloped well past the chicken coop. They followed it down and into a thicket of trees. Hassan counted and measured his breaths as they walked: in, out, slow. A branch snapped underfoot and Frank swung round, rifle ready. Hassan threw up his hands in defense. Nothing. Frank shot him a scowl and moved on, deeper into the woods.
    Hassan thought about his mom as he walked and how her last thoughts of him had, no doubt, been