Inside the truck stop restroom, Linwood removed his shirt and inspected his wound.  The small bullet passed through the meaty part of his shoulder.  If he was going to be shot, he would want to be shot with a .22 without a doubt.  A 9mm or even a .38 would have ripped part of his shoulder out upon exiting.  The measly .22 just went straight through.  He washed both sides of the bullet hole and went into the truck stop to find something that would work as a bandage.  ‘Gonna need to get this looked at.’ He told himself.  He bought a bandana and tied it around his wound as best he could and then he waited.<br/><br/>‘Poor Flowers, the unlucky bastard’ he thought, ‘probably dead now…’  Linwood regretted that he couldn’t save him from Frank and his boyfriend, but he had tried.  And he got shot in the process. Three coffees later, when the sun came up, he crossed the street to fetch his belongings and get the hell outta Dodge.  It wasn’t until he saw his backpack that he remembered the book.  ‘No time for leisurely reading now’ he said to himself as he cranked his rusty old truck and hit the gas.<br/><br/><br/>“Fuckin’ drive by.  I was stopped at the light mindin’ my own business, and a damn low rider full of beaners pulled up and shot at me.” Linwood said to the emergency room nurse.  It was LA after all, drive bys happen all the time.<br/><br/>“Just hang out in the waiting room, we’ll be with you shortly.” The nurse told him.  Linwood knew it would be a long wait, so he brought the book with him.<br/><br/>‘Time to see what Flowers had gotten himself into’ Linwood thought as he unwrapped the book and opened it.<br/><br/>