The hum of tires riding asphalt reverberated through my body, my skin vibrating like current running through wires. Chalk girl took another long pull on the bottle of Mezcal, finishing it. Ahead of us, Walt drove on, once in a while peering in the rearview to see if anyone was following – like, for instance a group of hat wearing men, or a Nascar lover with a shotgun.

“You went back, L?”

Sound felt disconnected again. It took a minute to realize it was Walt that asked the question. Damn sure t...