The Wolves of Fairmount Park by Dennis Tafoya

said Soap, and pinched off the roach and put it in his coat. “I get you, yeah, this some Wile E. Coyote shit.”
    Chris nodded, but couldn’t guess what the stoned kid was trying to say. Angel came to a turnoff near Fairmount Park that put them along the creek and drove down into the woods a ways, moving slow.
    â€œNow it’s the woods, huh.” Soap sang some more, his high voice filling the car, “KYW Newsradio . . . Ten Sixty.” He closedhis eyes. “Man, I didn’t realize, this stuff is harsh, man, like getting hit with buckshot in the head, you know?”
    Chris turned and said, “What?” and almost laughed. “Is it?”
    â€œYeah, I got this weed off my sister’s boyfriend. This shit is powerful.”
    Ahead of them the rear end of a car came into the headlights, a beat-up white Buick with its front end stuck in the weeds.
    Angel spoke for the first time. “Come on, then.”
    Soap roused, gathered himself up, and slid over to get out. Chris got out to stand by Angel, his hand making the unconscious gesture of touching the hard butt of the pistol through his shirt.
    â€œThis is better, yeah? We’ll get you home in this other car, so no one sees anything, gets nervous?” Chris working it maybe too hard, not knowing how the man could be so dense to what was happening. Soap made a gesture, throwing up his hands like okay, whatever.
    â€œYeah, sure, we change cars. This is how they do it in the big leagues, huh?”
    They were in a small clearing in the woods between the river drive and the water. There was the constant hissing susurrus of the cars going by behind the screen of the trees, and to their left was the vast black space in the lights that was the Schuylkill River at night. Across it they could see the expressway and the lights of the cars going by, bumping along in a stop-and-go stream like in something Chris had seen on TV about blood cells moving in a body.
    They turned to look at it, Soap and Chris and even Angel. The river and the expressway and the trees, and behind that the cityand the lights. Chris was talking again, saying how Asa thanked him for coming out and helping with the thing with the cop, but Soap waved him off.
    â€œFuck that, he going to leave my sister out of it?”
    â€œYeah, Soap, that’s right, man, you got no worries.”
    Chris moved ahead to stand by the car, and Soap followed, still talking.
    â€œAsa Carmody is a freak, and you all freaks for working for the man. Motherfucker smiles but don’t mean it. Bring family into business like that? Threaten my sister?”
    â€œNah, man.” Chris was heated, forgetting himself for a minute. “Nah, it ain’t like that, it’s just he thought you were cold, man, when he asked you for help. Asa’s the kind of guy—”
    The shot made him jump a little, a flat pop that hurt his ears, and he froze, his hand still out in front of him. Making some kind of point to Soap, who went down on his back, eyes open, his string pulled forever. Chris turned to Angel, who was already putting the gun away, bending to drag the kid by the foot to the edge of the water.
    Chris said, “Jesus. What the fuck, man?” He held out his arms. “I thought you’d throw me a sign or something. That’s uncool, man, I thought I was the one getting shot.”
    Angel stopped in the action of dragging the body, bent to the task, one of Soap’s oversized boots in his hand. He straightened and looked at Chris, said nothing, but cocked his head a little, like a dog. Like he didn’t know who or what Chris was. He went back to it, shifting to get leverage on Soap’s right leg and then making a quick jerk that let the momentum of Soap’s body carry him down the slope of the last few feet to the edge of the water.
    He got down on one knee over the body, fished in his jacket, and came out with the longest knife Chris Black had