Chapter 28

18 hours later "Catholic" was face down with his head buried in the sand, rocking with every wave of the high tide, Smokey was struggling to rub his belly in the sun. Cow Boy was standing upright, clinging to bottle 23. Parmesan and Tequila could not tell if they were alive, as a strange greenish purple color covered their faces, both of them lying long and hard in the middle of the small room, in the middle of a sea of empty beer bottles. The logs where they had cooked a gigantic catfish they had caught were still smoking, and more open bottles and cans were strewn everywhere. Zacharias realized again that until the 5 saw him leave, they would not leave him alone.

--Take me to the airport. I'm going to Saigon ....-- he said plaintively, not understanding why he didn't take the Colt 45 and do humanity a favor by knocking off those oxygen-spending bums of useful people.

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