Tweet of the Day: How to Use Comedy and Tragedy for One -Two Punch
——–
——–
MarqTran Facility, Marquette, MI, July 24th 6:28 p.m.
Marcus rounded the corner of the bus station into the parking lot, “What the hell are you doing here?”
I leaned against the Charger, “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“None of your business Arty!” he said. His eyes burned with anger. He moved past us.
I grabbed him by the arm,”Let go of me Arty or I’ll burn you right here,” he said. Samara extended her conciseness until it enveloped us in a wave of calmness. “Tell your bitch-” a punch to the solar plexus cut him off.
He doubled over but I held him up by the arm, “I don’t have time for your shit. We stuck our necks to get you out of that prison and I nearly got killed by a one of dad’s Guardian’s pals.”
“Who?”
“You remember Jeffrey, right?”
He winced, “Yeah.”
“Well, he said some very interesting things, things I’m not going to repeat out of the open. But we are in deep shit, and I already put my life and the life of my people at risk for you.” Our eyes locked, “This is a war and if I have to chose between them and you, I’ll drop you right here, and when you hit the ground, it’s gonna hurt. And forget about me picking you up again. That’s not going to happen.”
He blinked first, “Okay, just let go of me, people might see us.”
“Get in the car,” I watched to see if he would do something stupid, like fight or runaway, but did neither. He sat in the front passenger seat while Sam and Ricardo sat in the back.
He gave me instructions to Trowbridge Park. “You being here before?” I asked.
“Yeah, used to work here,” he said.
“Doing what?”
“Sheriff deputy,” he said in a monotone.
“Oh fuck!” I stopped the car on the shoulder. “You know you’re a wanted man, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” he said.
“So?”
“It’s my girlfriend. She lives here, or at least she did until I got caught. I managed to send her a message before they got me. Had to burn the phone so they didn’t trace it. Then I read about the fire…”
I check my wing mirror and sped back to the road, “That was her house?”
“Yeah.”
“Should have told us,” said Ricardo.
He didn’t respond. We reached the address. A pile of burnt ruble collapsed into the basement. Sam searched through the ruble. “She wasn’t here when the house burned down. No fear or panic associated with dying in such a way. In fact it feels, abandoned.”
For the first time in the last few weeks I saw my brother smile. Not a fake ‘I’m fine leave me alone’ halfhearted smirk, but a genuine smile, “She is one us. She must have done it to cover tracks.”
A helicopter flew over head.
A Black Hawk.
“Yeah and whose going to cover for us?”
——–
