I Love My Smith and Wesson Read Online Free PDF

you?” said Rawhead.
    He turned away and stormed back through the woods. Billy followed reluctantly, snow-laden branches flicking back against his face and body.
    â€œSo we’re just going to carry on like we did before, are we?” shouted Billy. “How many people are going to die this time?”
    â€œI can’t tell you, Bill. That’d ruin the surprise.”
    â€œWhat gives you the right to fuck up my life?” screamed Billy.
    â€œYou’re the one who fucks up lives, Billy. At least twenty people have died already because of your big mouth!”
    â€œYeah. And who fucking killed them?”
    They were on the rim of the woods. Rawhead stopped abruptly and extended his left leg. Billy fell over the leg and skidded downhill, headfirst. He came to rest against a tree trunk, groaning and holding his head. Rawhead stopped, lit an elegant spliff, and knelt down beside him, resting the startled corpse head against the trunk of the tree. Rawhead seemed relaxed, even amused. “So you really don’t know who this poor plain-faced bastard was?”
    â€œNo,” said Billy.
    Rawhead passed the joint to Billy, who took a deep drag, then coughed. Rawhead gave a short, dry laugh.
    â€œWhat’s so fucking funny?” said Billy.
    â€œYour face. When you saw me on the beach. Talk about shock.”
    â€œI wasn’t shocked. I knew you were coming.”
    â€œBollocks.”
    â€œCourse I fucking knew. You sent me a card, remember.”
    â€œWhat card?”
    â€œDon’t give me that. The fucking Frankenstein wedding card.”
    â€œI don’t send cards,” said Rawhead. “I’ve never sent a card to anyone in my life.”
    â€œYou are such a fucking liar.”
    â€œI didn’t send any card.”
    Billy was stunned.
    Rawhead persisted. “What card? Let me see it.”
    â€œI haven’t got it. I burned it.”
    â€œSame old fucking idiot,” said Rawhead dismissively.
    He snatched the spliff from Billy, picked up the dead man’s head, and started walking. Billy got to his feet and scrambled to the foot of the slope. Rawhead had taken the track and was walking parallel to the wall, away from the hotel. A tall, purposeful figure, head bowed against the wind, a human head dangling from his right hand.
    â€œSo that’s that, is it?” shouted Billy. “You come back, ruin my fucking wedding, scare the fuck out of me, then just walk away?”
    Rawhead kept walking. He didn’t look back.
    â€œPsycho,” said Billy under his breath.
    Billy looked down and saw a large rock, half-covered by snow. He leaned over and prised the rock out of the frozen earth. With a quick, dark thrill, Billy decided to end the nighmare. To get right what he’d tried and failed to do before.
    Rawhead was now lost to view, but his fresh footprints trailed away into the white night. All Billy had to do was follow the tracks. He rushed forward. The snow was unexpectedly deep, as high as his calves. The sweet, freezing air filled his lungs as he ran.
    Rawhead’s trail carried on and on, clear and deep. Long footprints made by huge, sturdy boots.
    A minute passed. All Billy could hear was his own breathing. He was panting like a schoolboy on a cross-country run.
    Dense snow flew into his eyes, so that he could only see a few inches in any direction. His feet burned with the wet and cold. He couldn’t feel his right hand. The fingers clutching the rock had turned bright pink.
    Any second now, Billy expected to see that gaunt, unmistakable frame, swinging its grisly burden. He saw only the deep footprints and the white veil descending. He stopped and listened, standing so still he could hear the snowflakes landing on his clothes.
    And up ahead, there was another sound. The distinctive trudge of boots in the snow.
    He was close now. Very close.
    One determined sprint. That was all it would take. Billy quickened his step,