I was wet and cold, so I cranked up the thermostat a bit. Slap slap...slap slap...slap slap went the wipers. Penny jabbered on the phone to Jimmy the Geek, rattling off instructions. I held the remains of the tracking device in my hand, nothing more than shards after I ground the thing into the pavement with my foot. My life had gone from a typical middle-class existence to surreal nightmare in the space of a few days. I thought about the video, and I was glad I had killed Homestead. Wished I could shoot the piece of shit again. Maybe I would. I could always go back out to Doc’s place, pull his stinking corpse out of the freezer, and fill him full of lead. Shoot the sonofabitch’s dick off. Blast it right off and hang it from my rearview mirror like fuzzy dice. Yessir. That would be nice. Sure, it would stink for a few days, maybe even weeks, but eventually it would dry out and look like beef jerky. “Okay, okay, get it as quick as you can,”
