Part 8

I jumo out of the wildly swerving convertable and into the hard sand, hurting my arm and giving me a terrible case of whiplash. I stand to see Mr.Duke and Oscar speeding off into the darkness, followed by the troopers. A gunshot rings out. The great red convertable swirves to a halt. The troopers can't break in time, and they ram into the Imapala. If things are as I suspected, Oscar is dead behind the wheel and Mr. Duke is injured from the crash. I'd stay around to witness the aftermath, but I'd risk arrest.I run the other way on Highway 95 untill I reach what looks like an on-ramp, and head towards town.

I wander aimlessly in the small town of Quartzsite, Arizona untill I decide to enter a coffee shop. Sitting down for a coffee seemed like a good idea. I need to gather my thoughts. I reach for my wallet, to see if I can pay for the drink. Surprised to see that it's still there, I soon discover that It is empty, save for a peice of paper. No money. No bank card. No ID. I'm fucked.

I remove this peice of paper to find that it is, in fact, a note. A note from my shooter?

"Sorry, Ed. I had to do this. Didn't want you getting in the way of progress.- Bill"

Bill? Bill Szatkowski? BACKWARDS BILL? It can't be. I knew he was a little messed up, but not insane enough to...

"I guess you're shit outta luck", a familiar voice interrupts my thoughts. I look up to see the girl from the room. This time without the big cloak. Now with a clever t-shirt and jeans.

"Looks like you aren't healing up as well as I thought.", she remarked at my bandaged chest. "lucky I got to you before that bullet worked it's way in too deep.", she informs me."Bullet?" I ask. "I thought it was a poison dart." I'm met with a quick reply, "No, I got you with a poison dart. I found you with the bullet wound."
"Why the hell would you shoot me with a poison dart?" I yell, attracting the attention of the other coffee shop regulars. "I'm crazy that way", she says. The burning question comes out. "Who are you, anyway?" "Kosovo. What's it to ya?""Kosovo?...like The Republic of Kosovo?""Yeah"

She didn't look like a Kosovo...but, then again, I don't know what a Kosovo looks like, apart from it's geographical shape. I doubt that's her real name, but at least I can refer to her as something other than "weird girl".

"So, Kosovo...you saw the guy who shot me, right?"
"yeah, why?"
"Think you can help me track him down?"

I get a strange answer.
"Maby...maby not"
"Great...now what am I going to do?", I think to myself as I look around the room. I look back to see that Kosovo is gone, a few $5 bills in her place.