“First time?” James broke into the stream of conversation, trying to engage the man—to see what he was about.
“Sure is!” One of the other stranger’s spoke up, misinterpreting the intention of James’s words. He smiled as he said it though, his teeth showing through a graying beard. “They call me Martin, and this here’s my son, Mitch.” The two of them offered their hands, and James took their palms into his own. “Wanted to come by here last time, but wasn’t able. Would’ve taken too long from where I was at the time. I’m getting too old for any long treks across this town.” He stood while steadying himself by the handle of the wagon—a sharp bend to his back. “This’ll be my last ride before I go.” He held up a clasped hand. “Got my magic bean, and these women should knock the last couple things off my bucket list.”
“You have a bucket list?” James seemed completely enthralled with the idea.
“Not so much worried about living anymore. This whole virus thing made living mostly unenjoyable, but made it easier to do some of the things I’ve wanted to do but never could.” The hairs of his beard parted again around a wide grin. Thomas swore he could see a twinkle in the old man’s eye. “Some things my wife wouldn’t do, some things the law wouldn’t let me do. Neither of those around, so I says to myself… It’s time to just have fun before the cancer tears me apart completely.”
His son, looking on just over his shoulder, shook his head. “Dad, come on.” He tugged at the old pervert’s shoulder. “You still got your pill?”
“My last huzzah!” Martin presented a small blue pill to the sky between his thumb and forefinger. He took it down and bobbled it within his palm. “This baby’s gonna bring me lot’s to remember when I’m in the ground”
“Quit talking like that,” his son pleaded with him, “and quit rolling that damn thing around like that. You’re going to drop—”
But it was too late. The pill slipped from his hand and found its way into a patch of decaying matter pressed against the curb. As the two men fumbled for Martin’s dying wish, the quiet stranger dove in to assist.
“Lemme help you guys out here,” he said while scavenging through the mess. “Is that it there?” He pointed down toward a clump of leaves by the old man’s foot, diverting their attention from where Thomas caught glimpse of the pill, but as he went to retrieve it, the quiet stranger plucked it from the pile and into his pocket. “Any luck?” The stranger continued feigning assistance. “I thought I just saw it.”
“It’s got to be here, damn it.” The son desperately scraping everything away. He practically ripped his father’s foot from the gutter as he worked to get it from the spot he wished to search.
“Be careful with this old man.” Martin slowly bent down to sit on the curb.
“Damn it, dad!” He was tossing the excess junk out behind him and into the street. “Anyone seen it?”
Thomas glared at the stranger, contemplating whether or not to inject the truth into this charade as they picked through the mess, sifting the loose filth through their parted fingers. Of course, there was nothing to find. Not a sliver of blue within that disgusting slew of brown and black.
The son turned to the stranger, scowling at him, most likely thinking what Thomas already knew to be the truth. “Give it here.” A slow and deliberate statement. “Now!”
“Don’t have it.” The man stepped back.
“Empty out your pockets.”
“Who the hell do you think you are? I don’t answer to you, and besides”—he patted along the outside of his pants pockets—“I ain’t got your shit, man. I don’t need no stinkin’ pill to get it up.”
“It’s worth a ton, and you know it. It didn’t just disappear! I know you have the damn thing, just give it up!” The son took very little time encroaching into the quiet stranger’s space. Thomas and James simply stood there, watching the event unravel in front of them. Although they could have easily intervened, retrieved the pill, and given it back, the role for which they came was not that. They stayed mum.
“Help me out here, you two,” the son begged. “This guy can’t steal from us. It’s my dad’s final wish. We can’t let him get away with this.”
Thomas felt no sympathy for the man whining about the theft of a small pill. A small pill that would allow his old man to defile the life of a woman—to take from her—steal a small piece of her soul each time.
As the man continued to beg, a rage built inside Thomas, his ears turning red. It was the audacity of this hypocrite, this whiner, this individual unable to see his own horribleness. He was only focused on a minor theft, but acted as an enabler for the rape of another, possibly several others. A complicit rapist, but a crusader against petty theft? The man’s moral compass proved laughable.
Thomas shifted his weight toward the men, but felt an arm across his chest. It was James, taking on the unfamiliar role of peacemaker, casting aside his natural inclination toward instigator. “Let it go,” he whispered while pointing to the Butcher’s guard approaching from the post.
“Hey! Everyone! Shut the fuck up!” The guard set his hand upon the pistol against his hip.
“But he—” the son started.
“I don’t give two shits about any ‘but he.’ You idiots won’t be allowed in here if you don’t end this now. This is a no bullshit zone.” The guard stared pointedly down the line at each of their faces. “Anyone have a problem with that?”
James spoke up, stepping slowly away from their bickering while grabbing hold of Thomas’s arm. “We have nothing to do with them, not going to have them ruin this opportunity for us.”
Thomas took the cue. “Check us over and what we brought. Let these idiots decide what’s more important to them by themselves. We’re going in.”
They walked up the service road toward the barricade.
“You’re here with me,” the guard said, stopping James in the middle of the street. “Only one at a time, fellas.” Thomas slowed his steps. “Bill! Look alive!”
“I hear ya!” Bill stepped out from behind the barricade and brushed something from his pants. Thomas took a quick glance back at James, who had already taken it upon himself to strike up a conversation with the guard. The apprehension Thomas held going into this faded.
James seemed born for this situation. A natural liar—he seemed to have the ability to move from one character to the next, feeding into whatever line the next person they encountered needed to hear. They were just two guys looking for a good time—nothing more, nothing less.
“Quit your staring,” the guard said, pausing from his conversation with James. “Get your ass on up there.”
“Let’s go! We ain’t got all day here.” Bill pointed to Thomas. “Step this way and spread ’em.”
Thomas did what he was told—a slight hesitation to his movement. A little nervous touch to his “character” in this mission would carry well. Even the old pervert in all his excitement seemed to hold a little uncertainty in his words. No one seemed completely comfortable here.
“You don’t have anything on you that’s gonna hurt me, right?” Bill asked.
“Nope.” Thomas slid the book bag from his shoulder and let it drop to the ground.
“What’s in there?” Bill nudged the bag with his foot. “Feels heavy.”
“Just a bag of books,” he said, making a point not to reveal the source.
As Bill moved into position behind him, Thomas spread his legs even with his shoulders and raised his hands above his head. “You think those books will get us what we need?”
“Depends on what you’re looking to do.”