《Orphan's Nightsong》


 Chapter 1

    It was a cold and harsh night, blood was spilling into the white snow. Greasy Eugene dragged his limp leg along the desolate road. His car had broken down a mile or two down the road ¡ª not the most ideal situation. What¡¯s worse is that he had to leave a bag of the take behind. But he was not going to stop now. Not like this. The weight of his gun in his hand wouldn¡¯t let him.


    An odd car or truck would pass him by, their headlights cutting through the morning gloom. He didn¡¯t care. He was going to make it out alive. Blood dripped steadily from his lame leg, staining the snow with every labored breath he took.The icy wind bit at his face, and his boots crunched against the snow as if mocking his every step. But, the rage in him wouldn¡¯t let go of his heart. That bastard. He was going to pay. Once he recovers, he¡¯d make sure of it.


    Suddenly, he broke into a fit of coughing. He stopped and took a moment to let it all out. A drop of blood fell into the white snow. Then, he stumbled, crashing into the snow as his leg buckled beneath him. The cold seeped through his thick winter clothes. The bag pinned him down, its weight crushing what little strength he had left.


    He groaned, barely a whisper. ¡°Must... keep... moving...¡±


    No one was going to mourn this crazy son of a bitch. Some great bank robber he was, Eugene thought to himself. It¡¯s ridiculous! Dying here, in the snow, wasn¡¯t how his story was supposed to end. Was this it for Greasy Eugene?


    Through the haze of snow and pain, a faint light pierced the darkness ahead.


    Muffled steps squeaked through the cold winds.


    Eugene summoned every ounce of strength left in him to speak, his voice barely a whisper.


    "Help me."


    -BREAK-


    The wind howled outside, rattling the windows in my room. I sat at my desk, idly scrolling through the computer, trying to ignore the chaos echoing from downstairs. Screams and laughter from the kids reverberated through the old walls, making me grateful it wasn¡¯t my turn to watch them today. After all, it was a holiday.


    Amy appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, her silhouette sharp against the dim light from the hallway. Her hair was ruffled, and her expression was as sharp as the cold outside.


    ¡°Did you buy some food for the kids?¡± she asked, her voice tinged with frustration.


    Even then, I looked up from my chair, meeting her glare with a lazy gaze. I wasn¡¯t in the mood to feed her anger. ¡°I was going to head out, but the snowstorm¡¯s too harsh,¡± I replied evenly, leaning back in my chair.


    Amy raised an eyebrow. ¡°So, we¡¯re going to starve.¡±


    ¡°What do you want me to do, Amy? Heck, if the plow comes early¡ª¡±


    ¡°No.¡± She cut me off, grabbing her coat¡ªand then my ear.


    ¡°Ow!¡± I yelped, stumbling out of my chair. ¡°Are you crazy?¡±


    Amy¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You¡¯re stuck here with me, Louis. It¡¯s a miracle this broken home¡¯s still standing. The kids are our responsibility, remember?¡±


    ¡°I remember,¡± I muttered, rubbing my ear, but she wasn¡¯t listening. She shoved me toward the closet.


    ¡°Pick up your winter clothes,¡± She snapped. ¡±Meet me downstairs.¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright...¡± I sighed, rubbing my eyes and fixing my glasses. Amy was always the rough one¡ªpassionate, stubborn, and relentless. I grabbed my coat and gloves, muttering under my breath, ¡°She¡¯s going to be the death of me someday.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s going to be the death of you, Louis?¡±


    A timid voice cut through the quiet, making me yelp and scramble back against the wall. Standing in the doorway was little Fran, the smallest of the kids in the house. Her wide eyes were full of concern, and her tiny hands clutched the edge of her oversized sweater.


    "Fran!" I exhaled, trying to steady my heartbeat. "You scared me. What are you doing sneaking up on people like that?"


    She tilted her head, her brow furrowed. ¡°You said someone was going to be the death of you.


    I froze, fumbling for a response. ¡°Uh, hey there¡­ You didn¡¯t hear that, did you?¡±


    Fran ignored my question, crawling closer on her hands and knees. Her mouth twitched, and her big, solemn eyes seemed to plead with me: Don¡¯t go.


    "Fran, you don¡¯t have to worry about that," I said quickly, standing and brushing myself off. "I¡¯ll be heading out soon. If you need anything, ask Hugo."


    ¡°But Hugo¡¯s a prick,¡± she replied, blunt as a hammer.


    I blinked, caught off guard. ¡°Where¡¯d you hear that word, Fran?¡±


    "From you," she said, her small shoulders shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.


    Ouch.


    "Well, don¡¯t say it," I scolded gently. "It¡¯s not a nice word."


    Before she could respond, Amy¡¯s sharp voice cut through the air like a whip.


    "Louis! Get down here right this instant!"


    Fran¡¯s eyes darted toward the door, then back to me. She reached out, tugging on the hem of my coat. ¡°Do you have to go?¡± she whispered.


    I sighed, forcing a smile. ¡°It¡¯ll be okay, Fran. I¡¯ll be back before you know it.¡±


    I walked downstairs letting out an audible yawn. My coat was quite comfy, but it was getting a lot tighter. I spotted Amy standing by the doorway, spinning her keys around skillfully. When she saw me coming down, she rolled her eyes. She¡¯s so considerate.


    ¡°You ready?¡± She said, opening the door. A gust of chilling wind swiftly flew into our faces.


    ¡°Of course, Amy.¡± I sighed.


    -BREAK-


    The nearest shop was in the next town over ¡ª Some big shot from the city built that rectangle, now half the town works there. Amy had put some hours working there, when I was still working hard in uni. When she called me for the first time, she complained about that A-grade asshole of a boss. Her words, not mine. I¡¯d heard that he was still working there. Not that it mattered.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Music could be heard playing throughout the shop. A man was singing in falsetto, reaching his high. It wasn¡¯t bad, but I thought it could be better. I remember back when Nan still ran the orphanage, she used to play Clair de Lune all the time.


    I miss her. Amy really tried to step up after she passed.


    You know what.


    It¡¯s strange.


    It''s strange to dredge up those memories while staring at a slab of smoked ham. Smoked ham didn¡¯t deserve to hear my shitty thoughts. Smoked ham deserves to be eaten with eggs. I didn¡¯t know whether or not it was the lights doing these things to me. It could be. I just haven¡¯t got the slightest idea.


    Amy snapped her fingers in front of my face, jolting me out of my thoughts.


    ¡°Quit daydreaming!¡± she barked, balancing an armful of groceries. ¡°Look for something the kids would actually like.¡±


    ¡°I am!¡± I retorted, waving the smoked ham dramatically in front of her.


    ¡°That¡¯s the most expensive ham in the store, you idiot,¡± she shot back, shaking her head. ¡°We don¡¯t have the money for nice things, Louis. Go find something else.¡±


    ¡°We could ask mo¡ª¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Her tone was sharp, final.


    I squinted my eyes, ¡°Then, let¡¯s get a cheaper ham.¡±


    ¡°Why do you even want a ham? Why not bacon?¡±


    ¡°Ham¡¯s delicious!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s expensive!¡±


    I groaned, leaning against the shopping cart as Amy turned away. The kids deserve something better. Amy used to think so, too. What changed?


    People don¡¯t seem to notice the little things anymore. Quietly, I slipped a cheaper slab of ham into the cart. It wasn¡¯t much, but it felt like a small victory. That¡¯ll show her.


    We rolled into another aisle to pick up some other things that Amy wanted ¡ª essentials, boring stuff really. After a while, we managed to scrape together the things we needed. But, when we rolled into the check-out¡­


    ¡°Louis?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    She held up the ham like it was a crime scene. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    My mind scrambled. Do I own up? Play dumb? ¡°Uh... a surprise?¡±


    Great¡­


    Her eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of something else¡ªamusement, maybe? ¡°A surprise we can¡¯t afford.¡±


    I grinned weakly. ¡°The kids will love it, though.¡±


    She sighed, setting the ham down on the conveyor belt with a heavy thud. ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡±


    -BREAK -


    It was a quiet way back home.


    I didn¡¯t want to bug Amy.


    She seemed like she was going to explode.


    I twiddled my fingers, trying to stave off that feeling of boredom. It still felt quite cold in Amy¡¯s car, despite the heat. And even then my thoughts kept coming back to this question. Why wasn¡¯t I quite sure of what to think? It was barely half past eight and I still had some things to do. But¡­ I had been gone for quite some time. I¡¯d only just returned to this place five days ago.


    I was tired. Maybe that was it.


    My tongue felt sore and dry. I think I wanted to say something.


    But, I didn¡¯t know what to say.


    But Amy did.


    ¡°Look, Louis.¡± She began with a calm voice. The car rumbled on, the engine like a low hum beneath the tension. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s fair that you get to stay in your room that much. I know that you¡¯re only here for the holidays, but...¡±


    I could feel the weight of her eyes on me, but I couldn¡¯t meet her gaze. I was too busy staring out the window, pretending I hadn¡¯t heard her words. I wasn¡¯t ready for this.


    She took a breath, and I noticed her hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white against the leather. The creaking sound echoed in the silence, louder than it should¡¯ve been.


    ¡°But, I really want you to think for once.¡± She sighed deeply, as she began to slouch further into her seat. I was afraid that she¡¯d step harder on the pedal. But, she didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Think about it from my point of view. Do you have any idea what¡¯s been like for the past two years?¡±


    ¡°I might¡¯ve had an idea.¡± I said, blind. ¡°But I don¡¯t think it¡¯s something to worry about.¡±


    It was at this moment that Amy turned her head towards me. I never noticed it before ¡ª the deep bags in her eyes. They were like shadows, weighing her down. She looked way older than she really was. It¡¯s shocking.


    And she was the younger twin between the two of us.


    I had always thought of her as the strong one, the one who could handle everything. But seeing the exhaustion in her face, something shifted in me. I felt guilty, suddenly aware of how little I¡¯d really been paying attention. She wasn¡¯t just dealing with the kids and everything else¡ªweighed down by responsibilities I had mostly ignored.


    But, I was away to study. I think I promised to get a job to support her efforts.


    How wrong I was to think about it like that.


    ¡°It¡¯s not fair.¡± She whimpered, shaking her head. ¡°It really isn¡¯t fair.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not fair? ¡±I frowned, momentarily stunned.


    I wanted to say something, but the words felt stuck. Maybe she was right¡ªmaybe¡­


    And now, all she had was the weight of everything falling on her shoulders.


    Her lips pressed into a thin line, and I could feel the cold air seep in from the window, despite the heat.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do it all, Louis. You can¡¯t just... disappear and expect everything to stay the same.¡± she finally said, the words coming out more softly now, but no less heavy. ¡°I need you here. I can¡¯t keep pretending everything¡¯s fine when you¡¯re barely here at all.¡±


    I swallowed the lump in my throat heavier than it should¡¯ve been. I wanted to respond, to tell her I didn¡¯t know what she wanted from me, but I couldn¡¯t.


    I just couldn¡¯t commit to that.


    I just looked down in shame.


    Shame.


    Did I ever think this hard before? Why does it feel all so familiar?


    ¡°Oh my god.¡± Amy¡¯s voice cut through the silence, sharp and urgent.


    She slammed on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt.


    I snapped my head toward her, my heart racing. Ahead, a car crashed into one of the trees, its front crumpled beyond recognition. I recognized the car as one of those vintage muscle cars ¡ª most likely a car from the 60s. But, that was not all. There was a trail of blood on the snow.


    Without a word, we both stepped out of the car, the engine still running, the sound of it lingering in the cold air. Amy was shaken.


    ¡°What the hell¡­?¡± I muttered under my breath.


    The lights stretched our shadows. It felt like we were walking into a crime scene.


    The car had a bunch of holes tattered into the exterior. They were probably bullet holes. I didn¡¯t dare myself into touching them. I¡¯d probably get my hand stuck. The back of the car, on the other hand, wasn¡¯t as mangled. There were a bunch of guns in the back and what looked like a crowbar and a duffle bag.


    I looked towards the trail. It stretched ahead, leading further down the road.


    It dawned on me.


    ¡°Amy, I think the driver lived.¡± I said, my voice low, uncertain.


    ¡°What!¡± She shot a disbelieving look at the wreck. ¡°There¡¯s no way that someone could survive that.¡±


    ¡°See the blood trail?¡± I pointed towards the trail.


    Amy¡¯s eyes followed the trail, disbelief shifting to unease. ¡°You mean¡­ the driver got out of the car?¡±


    I nodded slowly. ¡°It¡¯s the only explanation.¡±


    We headed back into the car and drove forwards.


    My heart was beating rapidly. An accident? There¡¯s no way that this could happen. The roads were salted. Amy drove slowly, looking out for anything out of the ordinary. Yet here we were, staring at something neither of us could have anticipated.


    ¡°Awful.¡± I muttered.


    ¡°I know.¡± Amy replied.


    We slowed as we approached a dark figure lying motionless on the ground. The moment stretched out. Was it a corpse? My pulse quickened as we stopped the car and stepped out ¡ª both of us staring at the man, still and face-down in the snow.


    Then, a faint sound broke the silence¡ªweak, barely audible.


    ¡°Help me,¡± the man groaned.


    Amy¡¯s eyes snapped wide, panic rising. ¡°Call an ambulance!¡± she shouted, her hands immediately going into her pockets.


    But then, the man¡¯s voice, strained but insistent, cut through the air.


    ¡°No! Don¡¯t call an ambulance.¡±


    The words felt wrong. My breath caught in my throat.


    ¡°Take me to your home, or at least somewhere far from the cops!¡±


    Everything in me froze. There was something strange about the way he said it¡ªlike he knew what was coming, like he was running from something worse than the blood soaking into the snow.


    I glanced at Amy, her face pale in the dim light. That¡¯s when I saw it¡ªthe man was gripping a gun tightly in his hand, the metal gleaming under the weak streetlight.


    I didn¡¯t hesitate.


    ¡°Mister,¡± I said, my voice firm despite the unease in my chest. ¡°We¡¯ll take you to our home.¡±


    Before I could fully process the weight of what I¡¯d just agreed to, I felt a sharp jab in my side. It was a warning.

 Chapter 2

    If you asked me whether I liked the indoors or the outdoors, I''d probably say that this is a stupid question and that people should go outside more... I''m a couch potato. Back then, Mom wanted me to be her little soldier. She signed me up to join the local bootcamp. She looked so happy to see me in that khaki uniform, which she''d always help me put on. But, I was a terrible scout. I wasn''t built for the outdoors.


    It''s funny. I never thought that fifteen years later, I''d use something from their textbook.


    Right in front of me lay an injured man. His leg was bleeding profusely as his face pressed into the snow. The first thing we did was roll him onto his back.


    I took my handkerchief out and wrapped it around the man''s limp leg. His blood soaked through the fabric in an instant, but I made sure to tie it as tight as I could. The cold air made it hard to focus. Thoughts of frostbite filled my mind, as my fingers grew numb. The man was groaning and breathing slowly.


    He yelped when I pulled on the tourniquet and whimpered.


    Amy was pacing nervously around me, as I heard the sound of her boots crunching against the snow. She crouched to check the man out a few times, then she stood by the roadside, her back against the hood of her car.


    I glanced at her. Amy stood still. She was staring at me, an unreadable expression on her face.


    Was she mulling over something?


    Stupid question. I had to act fast.


    "Hey, Amy!" I barked. My voice came out sharper than I intended.


    Amy raised an eyebrow, "What do you want, Louis?"


    "Come over here! We need to haul him over to the car."


    ¡°And why do we have to?¡± She spat on the ground. ¡°It¡¯s my car, and <b>you </b>want to take him to our home.¡±


    ¡°Amy, please.¡± I stood up. ¡°I don¡¯t want to feel responsible for letting a man die. It¡¯s not right.¡±


    When I spat that sentence out, something must¡¯ve switched inside her. She began walking towards me, and I felt goosebumps under my thick clothes. She stared directly into my eyes, towering over me despite being a bit shorter than me. Then, she grabbed onto my cheeks and pinched them, bringing my face close to her level.


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust him.¡± She bluntly said.


    At a loss for words, I mumbled something back.


    "But we need to put him in the car. He''ll freeze!"


    "Figure it out."


    She walked away back to where she was standing.


    She¡¯s¡­


    I shook my head.


    I returned to the injured man. I hadn''t inspected him properly, but he had a deathly feeling to him. His breathing was heavy, yes, but there was a high-pitched sound to it. A whistle. His face was clean-shaven, save for the caterpillar above his lips. If you ignored the black bruise by his eye, he looked like someone''s uncle.


    I first thought that he was some hunter who got into an accident. But, he wasn''t a regular hunter. His clothes were far too bulky for a regular hunter to wear. Plus, it wasn''t even open season.


    Come to think of it, was that his car we saw?


    "Kid..." The man started coughing. "Where''s your friend going?"


    "She''s not a friend, she''s my sister." I replied automatically, still trying to piece things together.


    His rugged, gaunt face tightened.


    "Did anyone follow you?" He wheezed.


    "...No? Why are you asking?"


    "So, you didn''t see a biker gang?"


    I froze for a moment. There was only one biker gang in St. Woods. "Don''t tell me you messed with the Woodpeckers."


    "Woodpeckers?" He turned his head in confusion.


    "So that''s why they were wearing that stupid shit on their back¡­"


    "Huh?"


    "D-don''t worry about it." His voice turned low, almost a mutter. He spat some blood out. "When those headlights were coming towards me. I thought for a second they were coming for me."


    "Why would they?"


    He didn¡¯t answer right away, his head lolling back as if the effort to speak was too much.


    I frowned.


    "Well, they do keep to themselves. Most of the time..."


    ¡°They don¡¯t keep to themselves. They shot me at the gas station.¡±


    The sound of a thud broke through the cold win, followed by hurried footsteps crunching in the snow. The thud came from the car. I turned to see Amy sprinting back, her face flushed red from the cold. She was holding a bottle of wine.


    "I''m back."This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Wine, Amy?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "This is not the time to drink!"


    "It''s all we''ve got, so suck it up," she shot back, uncorking the bottle with a quick twist.


    "Besides. It''s not for drinking. It''s for his leg."


    I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could say anything, she poured the alcohol directly onto the man¡¯s wound.


    He let out a strangled cry, his body arching off the ground as if he¡¯d been electrocuted.


    <i>"Amy!"</i> I snapped, my voice sharp.


    "<i>What</i>?" she said, glaring at me. "We don¡¯t have a med kit, so this is the next best thing."


    - BREAK -


    We moved to help the man up. Amy followed my word and moved to support me as I took the man. Her face was pale. The smell of cheap wine filled the air. He groaned with each step we took ¡ª a wet, but strained hiss of pain. Blood smeared all over the seats behind the front. I saw Amy wince at the sight.


    Once he was secured in the back seat, I glanced at Amy. Her hands were trembling as she gripped the wheel, but she didn¡¯t hesitate.


    <i>¡°</i>This car¡¯s going to reek,<i>¡±</i> Amy muttered, brushing snow off her jacket as she climbed into the driver¡¯s seat. I followed soon after, taking the other front seat.


    I snuck a glimpse or two at the man, he was pretty pale and quite blue. His head was lolling against the window. I didn¡¯t quite know what to think. But, I did a good deed today. Yeah, I did good, didn''t I?


    ¡°Thank you,¡± He whispered, his voice cracked and weak. ¡°Thank you¡­ Argh.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I said.


    I took one more glimpse ¡ª he was knocked out cold.


    We drove in silence, the hum of the engine filling the space until Amy, restless, reached for the radio. ¡°I can¡¯t stand the snoring,¡± she muttered, twisting the dial.


    The crackle of static gave way to a man¡¯s voice. He cleared his throat, the sound sharp and deliberate.


    ¡°Good evening, residents of St. Woods,¡± he began, his tone steady but weighted. ¡°Breaking news just in.¡±


    ¡°Reports from the Youngstown Police Department have confirmed the identity of a suspect involved in the robbery of the local BassBank last Wednesday. His name is Eugene Miller, a 50-year old man from Penn City.¡±


    He paused for a moment. Then, he continued. He recounted the events of the robbery, at least what they managed to uncover so far. Apparently, it was a gruesome .


    ¡°Miller, Davids and a yet to be identified suspect are currently being investigated by the Burea¡ª¡±


    The static crackled as Amy twisted the dial, cutting him off mid-sentence.


    "Hey!" I cried out, "We were just about to see their faces."


    "You can''t see faces through a radio, dipshit."


    <i>Ouch</i>.


    Then, she took a quick glance at the rear view mirror. The man was knocked out. Amy narrowed her eyes, her lips pressing into a thin line.


    ¡°You think that this guy is a bank robber?¡± I exclaimed. "We don''t know what the suspects look like."


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± she said, her voice low. ¡°He¡¯s badly wounded. And if he¡¯s Eugene Miller¡­¡± She trailed off, shaking her head.


    I glanced at the unconscious man. ¡°Besides, St. Woods is in the middle of nowhere. We shouldn''t worry about whether or not some criminal came.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the question you should be asking, you stupid asshole!¡± Amy snapped, her voice thundered. ¡°We just made ourselves criminals! I heard your conversation with him! You¡¯ve heard about what happens when you attack them.¡±


    I felt my skin flush. "So, what! Everyone knows that the Woodpeckers are crazy people."


    ¡°Then what are we going to do if we get arrested? What¡¯s gonna happen to the orphanage?¡± She barked, staring directly towards my eyes.


    Her words hit me like a slap. The orphanage. She always knew the perfect way to knock me off balance. My throat tightened, but before I could respond, the car jolted suddenly.


    "Louis!" Amy yelped as she yanked the wheels to the left, the car skidding briefly on the road.


    ¡°Don¡¯t distract the damn driver!¡± She shot me a glare, her knuckles white against the steering wheel. For good measure, she raised her fist in mock threat.


    "Wait, WAIT! I¡¯m sorry!¡± I threw my hands up in surrender, my voice climbing over the hum of the engine. ¡°Let¡¯s calm down for a moment. Please.¡±


    Amy''s breaths came sharp and uneven, fogging the air in front of her face. She gritted her teeth, exhaling forcefully before taking a deliberate inhale. Then another.


    Finally, she muttered, ¡°Any ideas on what to do if he¡¯s¡­ if he¡¯s a criminal?¡±


    The words hung heavy in the air, slicing through the low static of the radio.


    "He''s injured, Amy," I said softly, but my voice sounded as unconvincing to me as it probably did to her. "Maybe he¡¯s just some guy who¡­ got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.¡±


    ¡°Or maybe he¡¯s some guy who¡¯s going to screw us over the moment he¡¯s not bleeding out.¡± She cut her eyes at me for half a second before returning them to the road.


    I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The man''s pained breathing from the backseat filled the silence.


    ¡°Amy¡­ we can''t just leave him. Criminal or not. It''s¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not right. Yeah, I know,¡± she interrupted, her voice taut.


    Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit. She had a point, didn¡¯t she? My chest felt tight as I leaned back in my seat.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I finally admitted. My voice was small. Helpless. ¡°But¡­ if we don¡¯t help him, and he dies¡ª¡±


    ¡°Then that¡¯s on us,¡± she finished, a bitter edge in her tone. Her hands flexed on the wheel as if she was trying to massage the tension out of her fingers.


    I glanced at the man in the backseat. His head was still lolling against the window, his breaths shallow and uneven. But his position seemed to have shifted slightly. I shook my head, I must be tired.


    ¡°Then we¡¯re not turning him in,¡± I said firmly. ¡°Let¡¯s just take him to someone that can help him.¡±


    The words were barely out of my mouth when a sharp <i>click</i> cut through the air.


    My heart stopped.


    "Keep driving."


    From the backseat, the man¡¯s hand trembled as he pointed a gun right behind the headrest. His eyes were half-lidded, his face pale, but his voice was cold and steady.


    The words felt like they¡¯d hit me harder than the barrel of the gun. My hands clenched into fists on my lap, trying to stop them from trembling.


    "...What," I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper.


    ¡°Drive,¡± he said again, his voice calm, almost casual. ¡°To your home.¡±


    I shuddered, the weight of the gun¡¯s barrel practically burning through the air between us. Amy¡¯s grip on the wheel tightened, her knuckles turning white. She was staring straight ahead, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.


    ¡°Why?¡± I managed to ask, though every part of me screamed to stay silent.


    His lips twitched in something that wasn¡¯t quite a smile. ¡°Won¡¯t shoot you if you do. Won¡¯t rob you when we get there. I just want you to keep me away.¡±


    ¡°From who?¡± Amy snapped, her voice cracking.


    The man didn¡¯t answer immediately. He closed his eyes for a moment, his head leaning back against the window like he didn¡¯t have the energy to keep it upright. The gun wavered slightly in his hand, but his grip stayed firm.


    ¡°Just drive,¡± he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost pleading.


    And then, his body slumped forward.


    The gun slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a sharp thud.


    My heart jumped, my chest tightening as though the air had been sucked out of the car. For a long moment, Amy and I just stared at each other, the hum of the engine and his ragged breathing the only sounds breaking the silence.


    ¡°Don¡¯t just sit there!¡± Amy hissed, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Get rid of it!¡±


    Not wanting to take any more chances with this rogue agent¡ªor whatever he was¡ªI leaned over, my hand trembling as I snatched the gun from the floor.


    ¡°Put it in the glovebox,¡± Amy said, her voice low but urgent. Her hands gripped the wheel tightly, her knuckles pale as she kept her eyes on the road.


    I hesitated, the weight of the gun heavier than I¡¯d expected. It felt wrong in my hands, cold and alien. Swallowing hard, I nodded and shoved it into the glovebox, slamming it shut.


    Amy exhaled sharply, her breath fogging the air. ¡°Okay. Now what?¡±


    I glanced at the unconscious man in the backseat. His head lolled against the window, his breathing shallow. The bloodstains on his clothes seemed darker now, spreading like ink in water.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted, my voice unsteady. ¡°But I don¡¯t think this is over.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡±


    Home sounded safe, but nothing about this night felt safe anymore.