James Frey - Feed

Eugene looked back at the people and took off his backpack. “A couple more things. Inside this backpack is a bomb. It’s extremely sensitive. Once I set it, I don’t recommend that you try to move it. Nod if you agree.” Everybody nodded.

Kat stood up and joined us.

John, Kat, and I walked past Eugene out the door. He followed us, turning around once the glass double doors shut. He looped the backpack straps over the door handles.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” John said, and, fighting the urge to run, we walked away, giving no indication that we were in a hurry.

Kat never even had to draw her gun.

Molly, still sporting her Afro, met us in the parking lot in a tan-and-brown Monte Carlo.

Once we were inside, everyone patted Eugene on the back. Even I had to admit he knew what he was doing.

There was a paper sack on the front seat, and Molly reached in as she drove. “Gentlemen, it’s time to be civilized.” Out of the bag came four razors, four towels, and a can of shaving cream. “Let’s go to Reno.”

I only nicked myself twice.

I stood in front of the window of a department store, facing the TVs on the other side of the glass. All in the Family

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