He ran past Jackson-Williams Cemetery, saw Mr. Jessup still raking, and then dove through a fence marking the Jackson property line. He passed the cows and crossed another fence and the feeder road, ducked beneath the I-10 underpass, and then he was on his side of the road with the cars on the freeway buzzing their way westward behind him. He slowed to a trot as he neared his house and stopped when he reached the water hose behind the shed. The hose was cracked and old. Marty turned it on and bled out the rubber shavings and drank heavily from it. He thought he must sound like a horse at the trough. He sprayed his head and shirt, and then he turned the hose on the knife and scrubbed it for several minutes. He scrubbed and scrubbed, but the knife still looked dirty. The smidge of blood on the handle would not come out, not without sanding. He washed the Barbie doll legs, too, the ones he had gone to the dump to find.
