RAINEThe garage roof was burning when I reached it.I went up the ladder through smoke so thick I couldn't see my own hands. The fifty lay on its side, its barrel bent. Beside it, half buried in a spill of broken planks, lay Hollis.He was still breathing.I dragged him clear. Blood in his beard, his legs wrong, his eyes cloudy as old glass. He looked up at me, and God help me, he smiled."Told you," he rasped. "Never dropped one yet.""Don't talk.""Queen." His hand found mine. "Your mother brought me soup when my Ruth died. I never could look at that bowl again." A tear ran into his ear. "I'm sorry. Tell the club...""You tell them.""Can't." His grip loosened. "Tell them I held the wall.""You held it." My voice broke. "You held it, Hollis."His eyes fixed on something past my shoulder. I don't know what he saw. I held his hand until it was only a hand.I wanted to scream. I wanted to forgive him, and I wanted to hate him, and I couldn't make either one come, and below us the comm
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