The problem with trying to chase down a guy who's back is on fire is by the time you notice, he's past you.
Only one man had caught up to him, but the jerk just wanted to light his cigarette. I think I knocked one of teeth out when I punched him as I ran by. gashed my hand too. I'm Karma, idiot.
By now it seemed like an entire neighborhood had dropped everything to chase after Bill. But like a row of fire engines in a parade, the mob was sure loud but clearly off-duty when it came to putting out fires.
I had no idea how much longer I could run, but it would take my legs breaking off at the knees to get me to stop.
I'd seen Bill put out smokes on his fingernails, stab himself with forks, and he even broke his own pinky finger on a dare once, but you could tell by looking at him that he felt no pain, no worry, no fear at all when he'd self-mutilate for sport like that.
But this was different. When he lit the match looked at me as if to say, "This time you want to stop me." But I didn't.
Up ahead, Bill screamed.