Page 36 of Existential

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Page 36 of Existential

Barely twenty minutes pass before the sound of my bike reverberates off the trees lining the access road to our destination. Dagne follows behind, her hair whipping about her face from the wind cutting in her open window. Really must fix the air-con in that thing.

I train my focus forward again, checking every shadow and blind spot amongst the stand of cypress. Aside from our procession, it’s quiet and still out here.

Too quiet.

The trees give way to a streamside clearing. Scrubby grass tufts protrude unevenly across the expanse, clumped even thicker around the mobile home at the far end. The worn tracks in the dirt give out around the same spot that an unmarked sedan is parked.

Feds. Fuckers.

I gesture for Dagne to park the truck where she is, and then carry on alone. No signs of movement greet me as I park the bike beside the agent’s car. No sign of struggle. Everything is wrong. Everything’s off. Visions of the fed inside with her bound as a hostage flash through my mind. Shit. What if I’m too late?

I draw my gun and approach the trailer slowly, my boots causing the grass to swish underfoot. The door handle gives easily, and I edge it open an inch, checking the gap.

Feet. Polished leather shoes.

At least it’s not her.

I pull the door open further, stepping back to allow it past where I stand. There, spread out on the laminate floor, is one problem I definitely can’t stow away for later.

“Damn.”

Movement at the far end catches my attention, the rattle of things moving as a body passes by. I step in, gun held at the ready, but pretty certain I won’t need to use it.

Nope. Safe as houses.

“Hey, Hooch.” Familiar brown eyes stare up at me, a thin apologetic smile on a drawn and tired face.

“How about we step outside for a smoke and you can tell me what the fuck happened here?”

She nods, unfurling herself from the position she’d managed to wedge herself into, beside the bed. “Sure thing, brother.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Mel,” I say, staring down at the very-much-dead federal agent. “You’ve really done it this time.”




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