Barbara can't stand it when Brad won't comply.
Lisa doesn't have the faintest idea why they're fighting. She never does. Barbara is charging after Brad as he weaves about the room, elusive as a wisp of smoke. "Get back here, you motherfuck'—!"
The TV is between them now, and Brad must think he's safe standing behind their mother's idol. "Or what?" he dares to ask.
Barb raises her enormous leg and kicks the TV over.
It lands on Brad hard as thunder. Lisa's mouth drops wide like a gaping fish, but no sounds come out. Her brother's scream rips jagged from his throat as Barbara pounces him, green spandex hugging every lump and crevice of cellulite. She continues to rant, the blows she lands on him punctuating her tirade.
"You fucking—piece of—goddamn—think this is—a fucking joke—look—what you made—me—"
She chokes him until his swollen face is a carnival of scary colors, tongue protruding, fluttering eyes rolling into the back of his head. The life lifts from his eyes. As far as Lisa is concerned, Brad's died and come back a thousand times. When he comes to, Barbara is sitting back in her favorite chair, glaring at him through the plumes of her cigarette smoke.
"You ever try that shit again"—and here, Lisa was sure, it was about him talking back—"I'll bury you."
"Are you listening, Lisa?"
"No."
"Why?" Terri whined. "This is import—"
"Do you really need to start a fire?" Lisa interrupted.
"Of course!" She pulled out a matchbook from her breast pocket.
There were too many ways Lisa could picture this plan falling apart. What if there were customers or a second shopkeeper? What if someone spotted Terri setting the fire and attacked her for it? This tendency to overthink was why Lisa was never cut out for the subterfuge shoplifting required; that was Ren's area of expertise, the lying bitch—
Lisa's chest suddenly felt tight. She didn't remember seeing Ren or Kitty in their ransacked home, but she figured whoever took Sonny must have also taken them, and if the bastards were willing to rip out Chie's insides Lisa could only imagine the fresh hell her friends were being put through for keeping the world's last boy a secret.
Terri pointed to the small shack perched at the edge. "That's the place, right?"
"Yeah." Lisa would have rather gone in guns blazing, but Terri was right. She couldn't save Sonny or her girlfriends if some dead-eyed shopkeeper blew a hole through her chest her second night on the road. "That's it."
Terri scurried behind the store as Lisa watched from afar. The idea was for Lisa to rush in as soon as the shopkeeper left and then back out before the fire consumed the building. It was a rickety set-up: one story, no foundation, walls made up of sheet wood planks that would've been long knocked down if Olathe's climate were any windier. Frankly, Lisa was shocked it had taken this long for the store to go down.
"Psst, yo miss!"
Lisa gripped the side of the badland tock she was stationed behind.
"Hey! You in the white poncho!"
Lisa hissed a curse under her breath. Without turning completely away, she looked in the direction of whoever was calling her. It was a young woman, around her age give or take a few years. She was topless and wore a red bandana. Her smile brightened when she saw she had Lisa's attention. "Miss, do you mind standing right here?"
"Fuck off."
"Just real quick! I need to test something."
"No."
"Please?"
"Get lost!" she hissed.
"Please please please! You can still watch your friend rob that store from here."
"Why you—nobody's robbing any stores," Lisa hissed through barred teeth.
"Oh, yes you are. I heard you. She's gonna set that place on fire." The woman stretched her neck to get a better look at the shop. "No smoke yet… maybe it's not too late to save the shopkeeper? Think I should go warn her?"
Before she could think through what she was doing, Lisa was moving towards the woman. "You little shit!"
"Sneak attack!" She giggled, tackling Lisa to the ground.
Terri was shit at starting fires, always had been. The first time she ever had to was when she and daddy first went on the road. They snatched a couple of frozen steaks from a mini-mart, and he was demanding she cook them up for him. "You're daddy's hungry, girl!" He dug his sausage finger into his belly button, sniffing the whitish stuff he pulled out. "Les'go, 'fore I starve out here!"
She felt the same pressure then as she did now, knowing her worth hinged entirely on whether she could get a spark to fly.
When she finally did, she set the small pyre on some long-dried leaves. They were immediately immolated and further caught on to the wooden back-wall of the shop. Terri grinned like a little girl, made the hand single to Lisa to get ready, but—
Lisa in the middle of a tussle with some freak trying to stab her through with a pocket-knife. Her friend weaved and bobbed with a grace Terri would have never guessed her to have. Whatever was in the shop could wait. Lisa was in trouble, and needed her help.
Just as she was about to leave the shopkeep came barreling out, merchandise cradled in her hand. "Terri!" Lisa barked, barely holding the psycho she was fighting at arms-distance. "She has it! Don't let her get away!"
Aw, shit—Lisa really was just like daddy. Terri bounded up behind the shopkeeper, tackling her down from behind. The woman was small—smaller than Lisa, even—and was easily crushed beneath Terri's weight. "What you have there, girl?"
"Fuck off!"
"That's not very nice." Terri pouted, turning the other woman over to see what she was so desperate to save. "Oh, wow. A chainsaw!"
"Grab it, idiot!" Lisa shouted.
Terri knew how a chainsaw worked—she knew because daddy taught her, and she never forgot anything the people she loved said or did. She yanked the cord, bringing the weapon to life.
"You can have it!" the shopkeep pleaded, holding her hands out in front of her. Behind them, the store she owned was going up in smoke, thick plumes billowing into the night air. "Please, please don't-!"
Terri knew better than that. She hacked the woman clean through.
Lisa never would have imagined Terri had it in her.
She took out the shopkeep with a goddamned smile on her face and then skipped—skipped—over to Lisa and her own assailant, all 6'1 of her, swinging the buzzing saw around like a character out of a slasher film.
A knife was no match for that—even Lisa's attacker, unhinged as she obviously was, knew that. In all her panic she dropped her knife and ran off, throwing up dust clouds with each step. "Hold on, friend!"
"Let her go!" she screamed, and Terri stopped. Lisa picked up the knife she'd left behind. "Trade you?"
Her companion nodded, glad to hand the chainsaw over. Lisa would have been lying if she said she wasn't relieved to have the weapon out of Terri's hands.