Wanted by Kym Brunner

and for a few seconds, I thought I was headed for my face-to-face meeting with my Maker. I even heard music. Even though Mama tole me that the angels play the harp all day long in heaven, this music wasn’t nothing sweet. It was a loud, awful squallering, like a sow being slaughtered by a blind butcher.
    The quality of music ain’t what’s important though, it’s that I heard it at all. Because them was the first sounds I heard since I had my Second Coming. So imagine my surprise when, instead of standing at the pearly gates, I felt a smooth wooden windowsill beneath my fingertips. It was
my
hand,
my
fingers grabbed that window ledge. If this was a raid, I had to get out of there right quick. I wasn’t about to spend a second of my new life in the cooler. Me and Bonnie did enough of that in our first ones and there ain’t nothing in this world I hate more.
    Before I had a chance to help Twinkle climb out, the flashing lights stopped and I was thrust back into the deathly quiet, only able to see out through the boy’s eyes. I could kick myself for being asleep at the switch! Then he did the low-down, dirtiest trick in the book—he left his moll behind. Just took off running and left her with the rap.
    What kind of good-for-nothing crumb does that?
    I don’t know how or why I was able to take the boy over in the first place, but I know one thing I’ll do different the next time them flashing lights stream in. I’ll push all my energy into becoming the boy and jump into his skin with both feet. And then I’m hanging on tight. Because the next time he stumbles, he’s going to fall.
    And I’ll be right there to catch him when he does.

CHAPTER 7
Friday, May 20th // 11:42 P.M.
Monroe
    As Jack and I walk toward the counter to order our food, I’m still reeling from his confession that the other bank robber called him Clyde. Jack doesn’t seem concerned in the least, ordering a Big Mac Extra Value Meal. With my stomach in knots, I purchase only a small fry and drink to be polite. As we fill our cups at the drink station, I decide to come clean with Jack about his dream, the voices in my head, and the weird power that the slugs hold. I need to gently explain that we might have awakened Bonnie and Clyde’s spirits—and then ask for his help brainstorming how we can put them back.
    We navigate past group after group of loud teenagers, no empty tables in sight. Jack says, “Looks like everyone has the late night munchies.”
    We walk aimlessly past occupied tables, the normally mouthwatering aroma of burgers and fries now only adding to my intestinal discomfort. I finally spot a guy in a brown UPS uniform in the farthest corner, loading his trash onto a tray. “There’s one.” I point to the booth, then zigzag between tables and sidestep people’s legs in the aisles to get there. As we approach our table, I notice a guy with shoulder-length brown hair wearing a red knit hat in the booth across from us. I wonder why he’s wearing a hat in May, but when I see his torn jeans, his Element logo t-shirt, and his skateboard with a grinning skull alongside him, it’s clear.
    We slide into our seats, setting our trays onto the table. Jack stuffs three fries in his mouth while unwrapping his burger. “I’m starving. Kyle had nothing but potato chips at his party.”
    â€œTypical guy.” I pull out my phone and type, “Clyde Barrow gang member, Ralph” in the search window. I wait for the information to load, folding and pinching my bottom lip. I don’t even need to click on the blue links to see what I was looking for, because the mini-descriptions are sufficient.
    â€œClyde Barrow’s first gang member, Ralph Fults, joined the gang when he—”
    â€œRalph Fults met Clyde Barrow when he was only nineteen. Sources say—”
    â€œHey, Jack. Take a look at this.” I turn my phone and hold it