By the light of the moon

it?'
    Nervously surveying the night, expecting the black Suburbans to
reappear with a roar at any moment, Dylan said, 'I'm not a serial
killer, a rapist, a kidnapper, bank robber, mugger, pickpocket, cat
burglar, embezzler, counterfeiter, shoplifter, or jaywalker! I've
had two speeding tickets, paid a fine on an overdue library book
last year, kept a quarter and two dimes I found in a pay phone
instead of returning them to the telephone company, wore wide
neckties for a while after skinny ones were in fashion, and once in
a park I was accused of not picking up my dog's crap when it wasn't
even my dog, when in point of fact I didn't even have a dog! Now you can get in this truck and we can scram, or you can stand
here dithering about whether I do or whether I don't look like
Charles Manson on a bad-hair day, but with or without you, I am
getting out of Dodge City before those stunt drivers come back and
the bullets start to fly.'
    'You're amazingly articulate for an artist.'
    He gaped at her. 'What's that supposed to mean?'
    'I've just always found artists far more visually than verbally
oriented.'
    'Yeah, well, I'm plenty verbal.'
    'Suspiciously so for an artist.'
    'What, you still think I'm Jack the Ripper?'
    'Where's the proof you aren't?'
    'And a rapist?'
    'Unlike me, you could be,' she observed.
    'So I'm a raping, killing itinerant artist.'
    'Is that a confession?'
    'What do you do – drum up business for psychiatrists? You
go around all the time making people crazy so the shrinks will
always have business?'
    'I'm a comedian,' she declared.
    'You're amazingly unfunny for a comedian.'
    She bristled as obviously as a porcupine. 'You've never seen me
perform.'
    'I'd rather eat nails.'
    'Judging by your teeth, you've eaten enough to build a
house.'
    He flinched from the insult. 'That's unfair. I've got nice
teeth.'
    'You're a heckler. Anything's fair with hecklers. Hecklers are
lower than worms.'
    'Get out of my truck,' he demanded.
    'I'm not in your truck.'
    'Then get into it so I can drag you out.'
    Scorn as dry as old bones and as thick as blood lent a dangerous
new texture to her voice: 'Do you have issues with people like
me?'
    'People like you? What is that – crazy people? Unfunny
comedians? Women who have unnatural relationships with plants?'
    Her scowl was storm-cloud dark. 'I want my bags back.'
    'Delighted,' he assured her, at once heading for the back of the
Expedition. 'And how fitting – bags for the bag.'
    Following him, carrying Fred, she said, 'I've been hanging out
with grown men too long. I've forgotten how delectable the wit of
twelve-year-old boys can be.'
    That stung. Raising the tailgate, he glared at her. 'You can't
begin to imagine how much I wish right now I was a serial
killer.'
    'Were,' she said.
    'What?'
    'You wish you were a serial killer. In English grammar,
when a statement is in obvious contradiction to reality, the
subjunctive mood requires a plural verb after a singular noun or
pronoun in conditional clauses beginning with if , but also
in subordinate clauses following verbs like wish .'
    Working up a mouthful of sarcasm, Dylan spat out his reply: 'No
shit?'
    'None whatsoever,' she assured him.
    'Yeah, well, I'm a semiarticulate, visually oriented artist,' he
reminded her as he removed her suitcase from the Expedition and put
it down hard on the pavement. 'I'm no more than half a step above a
barbarian, one step above a monkey.'
    'Another thing—'
    'I knew there would be.'
    'If you put your mind to it, I'm sure you'll be able to think of
plenty of acceptable synonyms for feces . I'd be grateful if
you wouldn't use crude language around me.'
    Plucking her train case out of the cargo space, Dylan said, 'I
don't intend to use much more language of any kind around you,
lady. Thirty seconds from now, you'll be a dwindling speck in my
rearview mirror, and the instant you're out of sight, I'll forget
you ever existed.'
    'Fat chance. Men don't forget me easily.'
    He dropped her train case, not actually aiming for her foot, but
characteristically hopeful. 'Hey, you know, I stand corrected.
You're absolutely right. You are every bit as unforgettable as a
bullet in the chest.'
    An explosion shook the night. Motel windows rattled, and the
aluminum awning over the walkway thrummed softly as pressure waves
traveled through it.
    Dylan felt the shock of the blast in the blacktop under his
feet, as if a fossilized Tyrannosaurus rex in deep rock strata were
stirring in its eternal sleep, and he