Garrett was in the front seat driving, Dolly sitting next to him laughing at a joke I didn't hear. Her dark curly hair blew from the open window, a cigarette dangling from her two front fingers. I sat in the back on the broken leather seats, Tim sitting besides me getting high on some new drug that was all the rage. The road stretched out for miles in front of us, a solitary road that didn't seem to have a final destination.

    "Krissie, get me some of that good ol' beer, not the s----- stuff," Tim slurred. I gave him a look of disgust, but followed the order and reached behind me to grab him his beer. He popped the top in one swift movement, then guzzled the fizzing drink.
    "Tim you did not just drink the last good beer! That was supposed to be mine," Dolly whined like a five-year-old, discovering the beer in his grasp. Her lower lip protruded in a pout, and actual tears welled up in her eyes. Seeing Dolly's despair, Garrett slammed on the breaks, the station wagon coming to a stop with a screech on the pavement. He stomped out the car, Dolly right on his heels. Tim slowly methodically stepped out the wagon, pushing the door with a weird gentleness, probably knowing he was going to have a confrontation. I quickly rushed off after them, hoping I could try to keep the peace.
    "G-------- Tim! Stop you taking Dolly's g------ beer you old b------!" Garrett always obsessed over Dolly's feelings, this time being no exception. Dolly reached over and hugged Garrett in his chest, an over-exaggerated look of horror placing itself on her face. Tim just looked at the sky, puffing smoke in a perfect circle, giving a perfect stage performance of having no utter care.
    It was his lack of reaction that made Garrett slam Tim to the ground, the beer spilled and forgotten. Punches were landed on Tim's face, Dolly screaming in both horror, and a slight joy that Garrett was winning. But Tim didn't fight back, either too high out of his mind to do so, or too weak. I watched in silence, knowing that I should try to break it up but knowing I also had to just let them hash it out. I looked at the sky, observing an infinite blue, only broken up by the distant mountains. I heard Tim's continued grunts of pain and Garrett's body heaving with the effort, but still, I kept looking at the sky. Dolly, screaming with a ferocity now that the fun was over, tried to stop the punches Garrett continually delivered. Eventually, she won him over, and a silence ensued. Garrett breathed heavily and stared at the unmoving Tim.
    "Krissie, you gonna clean up this mess?" Garrett remarked, pointing to Tim's bloody body.
    "I ain't a maid," was my only reply, stubbornness and defiance to Garrett's orders taking over my answer.  He took Dolly in his grasp and stepped over Tim's body, wiping her tears and assuring her that all was okay. I stared at the mangled man, shallow breaths the only indication he was still living. "You just gonna leave him here, let him die?" I questioned.
    "Unless you wanna clean him up, let the buzzards take care of it," He smirked. I gave one last look at the heap of man, and stepped back into the wagon. Garrett kissed Dolly on the cheek as she wiped the blood off his fists, her pink lips pulling into a smile. Part of my mind, the rational part, told me to yell at them, try to find some police station and turn them in for killing a man. The other half told me I wouldn't have a ride though, and I wouldn't reach California, my main destination. My greed won over. The wagon rumbled to a start, and I watched through the back window at the retreating dead man.