Forty-Seven Jimmy

FORTY-SEVEN

Jimmy

WOLK'S CAR DOESN'T HIT Jimmy's head-on, he's going for the door Jimmy was using for cover, obviously hoping Jimmy is still behind it.

When Jimmy realizes that Wolk isn't bluffing, that he's not going to stop or even slow down, he dives underneath the Jetta, feeling the impact, hearing the screech of metal-on-metal, and tries to crawl all the way to the other side as the Jetta gets spun around, the front wheels hitting the right side of his chest, and he worries that the car is about to roll over on top of him.

He manages to get out from underneath, the Glock somehow still in his hand. Screw it. He's going down firing. He comes up and puts the gun on top of the convertible roof and starts firing at Wolk's car again, not sure whether they're going to stop or keep going.

This time he hits the back windshield and shatters that, and then Jimmy is running for the dunes in case the crazy bastard turns around and comes back.

He trips and lands on ribs that he's sure are busted or at least cracked, manages not to scream.

It's finally quiet then.

He manages to raise himself up, sees the taillights of the Corolla now as Wolk puts the car back on the highway and heads east.

Maybe she didn't try to finish the job and was counting shots and wasn't sure how many rounds Jimmy had left.

Jimmy touches his face and feels the blood, not just from the windshield now, but from when his face hit the rocks and dirt as he dove under the car.

His chest feels like it's been hit with all the worst body blows he ever took in the ring. But he gets his phone out and manages to call Jane before he passes out.

The light shining on his face is what wakes him up.

Jane standing over him.

"Does that white light mean this is heaven?" Jimmy asks.

"You wish," she says.

She sits down next to him in the dirt then, leaning over to kiss him on the forehead before telling him she needs to call 911.

"No," he says.