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“We can’t just leave a kid! They don’t deserve this.”

“It’s not our place to save these people anymore. We have to save ourselves. Hell, their own government abandoned them—did this to them. It’s over! It’s fucking over for them, not us!”

“That doesn’t mean we have to do the same. We’re better than this!”

“Put her down!”

“She’s coming with us.”

“Damn it, Tommy! You’re gonna get us killed.”

“Shut it! You’re the one that got us separated. Don’t blame me for this!”

“Shit! Alright, back hallway! Let’s go! Hurry!”

“Hold here like this sweetie… Lock your hands around my neck like this. There we go.”

“Now or never, Tommy!”

“Alright.”

“Through here! This one!”

Bang! Bang! Boom!

“Shit! They’re coming in!”

Crack! Crack!

“Get the fuck down!”

“Behind you!”

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Crack!

“In here!”

“Back window!”

Crash!

“Cover me! Through here, sweetie. Careful!”

Crack!

“Got ‘em!”

“Call it in! Damn it!”

“Radio’s fucking gone, man.”

Crack! Crack!

Crack! Crack! Crack!

“Tommy, drop her, damn it! Leave her!”

Crack! Crack! Crack!

“No! Move! Move! Go! Come on!”

“Hey Thomas, take a look at this.” Eric tossed a thin gold necklace with a locket to his feet. It stopped just beyond reach. “Ricard!”

“Huh…? Yeah. What?”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Take a look at that.” Eric pointed to the coiled necklace.

Thomas bent down, pinched it from the floor, and opened the oval piece. Two photos—one with the two dead souls in full embrace in their younger days—the next, a family photo. It was a sham. He was just trying to protect his wife. Why do people still insist on going it alone? We have everything to offer. He rolled the edge of the locket between his thumb and forefinger.

“What do you think?” Eric asked.

“It’s definitely them, but they look like a couple of accountants in these pictures. Crazy how things change once you’re exposed to this kind of lawlessness. They probably never held a gun before two years ago.”

“I was an accountant before all this.” Eric snatched the necklace from Thomas’s grasp, stuffed it in his pocket, and turned abruptly away from him.

“Really?” Thomas asked.

Eric looked over his shoulder, smiling. “No.”

Thomas shook his head, trying hard not to laugh.

“We need to wrap up here and move on.” He eyed one of his men and spoke up. “Hey! Head over to our group, let them know we’re good, and have a couple of those scavengers respond over here and sort through this mess.”

“Try and find James here another shirt to wear before they start picking through everything,” the medic added his concern.

Thomas began sorting through the nest of clothing in the corner. This is actually decent. He set the shirt off to the side for James. He held a few other pieces in front of him, but cast the rest aside. “This stuff is junk. I’ll leave your guys to it. Maybe they’ll see value in it that I don’t.” Thomas sprung from the boxcar and pitched the shirt over to James as he passed him. I’m just going to take another look at this guy.

The man’s body still lay motionless below the watchtower from which he was thrown. Thomas went to ensure nothing was left with the man’s body—after all, he wouldn’t need it. “Where’s his firearm?”

“I got it. You want it?”

“No, let Eric’s crew take it.” Thomas started to pick through the pockets. Nothing still. What a waste… Thomas scratched the back of his head. This is getting out of hand. James just isn’t getting it. If he wants to get himself killed that’s one thing, but— Shit, he’s not going to lose this for me and Joseph. Once we’re away from Eric’s crew, I have to straighten him out. This makes too many close calls already. This is ridiculous. Can’t follow simple instructions. Almost got killed. Twice! Thomas looked over to James while he stood there chatting with the medic. He was smiling. Nothing seemed to take with him. He just doesn’t seem to give a shit.

There was nothing else on the body. Any other valuables would be in the boxcar or socked away somewhere these two dead souls would never be able to share. “You about ready, James?”

“So… We’re letting them take everything from here?” He seemed annoyed by the idea, glaring at Thomas as he approached.

“Taking this stuff is not our mission. We need to focus on our job and let them do theirs. They’re completely capable of handling this from here.” Thomas bumped fists with Eric. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Chapter Five

“…but I don’t get why. It’s like you’re running on borrowed time, man,” Thomas said while peering back occasionally. Each time James’s head sank lower and lower into his chest. He was falling behind—the two of them trudging up the steep incline of Probasco St. “If I can’t trust you to listen or to have some damn patience when it’s needed, I don’t know how the hell we do this.” The thought of leaving him behind kept playing in his head. This idea seemed like the right thing to do. He couldn’t allow James to prevent him from his own goals, even though the two were supposed to be striving for the same thing. “I’m not trying to lecture you man, but damn… What the hell else can I say? You’re too damn impulsive.”

James muttered a response that sounded more like the growling of a hungry dog.

“I don’t get you,” Thomas said. “You’ve always kind of been a free-spirit or whatever, but now your carelessness is getting you hurt. Worse than that, I can’t have you do something stupid again and get someone killed. I think you’re involvement in this is over—”

“Look! So yeah, maybe I was trying to do too much, but…” James trailed off.

“No. Come on. Give me that classic James excuse.”

James sighed. “Maybe I haven’t changed, but neither have you. Still the same Thomas, afraid to make decisions. So yeah, sometimes I make ’em for you. Is that what you want to hear? Sorry. Sorry I saved your life.”

“Don’t have to worry about that anymore. We’re even now after your fuckup in the train yard. Now, I don’t owe you shit—certainly not this mission. If this is so important to you, then suck it up. Act like it!”

They walked in silence through a few more intersections before James switched gears. “My bad, man. I do need this promotion… just like you.”

Thomas could hear James’s rucksack shifting along his back as he picked up his pace, bringing himself shoulder to shoulder with Thomas.

“I’m on board.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Thomas didn’t even bother to look over to him.