I could afford to take my time. I drove along and I was happy. They were dead, but I could avenge them. I was happy about that.

And down beneath was my own personal rage. I fed the fuel to it lovingly, because I wanted it to grow blazing hot.

The I looked in the rear-view mirror, and I saw the car behind me, its lights off. I patted the .38 in my pocket and said crooningly, "Come on, you bastard, come closer, just a teeny bit closer."