With another curse, I'm out of the truck, slamming the door to piss Pigpen off. He follows as I go up the stairs, then brushes past me when I pause. He grins at me over his shoulder before opening the screen door.

Pigpen's on the move.

Pigpen jumps off as well but snatches my arm, gripping like he means to cause pain.

Because everyone is still treating me with kid gloves, Pigpen's driving me in his pickup truck, blasting music that's more screaming than music. I prefer electric guitar over voices, but it's not my fucking truck.

He [Pigpen] appears too damn happy and that causes a wave of uneasiness.

Pigpen pulls off the gravel road near the house and severs the engine. I go to open the door and he stops me. "Talk to me a second, and I don't mean me talking and you nodding your head like that's acceptable conversation.

A new beer with sweat running down the sides slides into view and Pigpen sidles up beside me grinning like a crazy man.

He's hit! He's hit!" Pigpen flies into view, gun drawn and on the prowl to kill.

A man wouldn’t be holding a girl on a bridge like he’s about to toss her over. I swear on my patch, killing you is not in the Terror’s plans.” - Pigpen