Page 74 of Faded Rhythm

Julian

Here I go runningaway again.

It’s for a good reason this time, though, so I leave the girls at the table with powdered sugar on their lips and sunlight on their faces.

I’m looking for two men dressed in black. They were lingering near the arcade games, eyes tracking us. I clocked their posture, the way they communicated with each other without speaking, and the subtle taps on the side of their legs.

I loop around the far edge of the fair, weaving between booths and carts, keeping my eyes peeled and my head low. There’s a cluster of rides near the back—a rusted Tilt-a-Whirl and a haunted house. I duck behind the generator trailer, staying low and tight.

I wait.

Then I see one of them. He moves past the haunted house, scanning the crowd, looking for me. His eyes flicker back toward the benches and land on the girls.

Wrong move.

I sneak up behind him and press the barrel of my gun to his skull. “Keep walking.”

He stiffens, then takes a step forward. I guide him around the corner behind a tent, away from prying eyes. The shadow the tent makes swallows us whole.

“You watching us?” I say, low and even.

“Yeah.”

“Who sent you?”

The man chuckles. “You know damn well you ain’t gon’ pull he trigger. It’s broad daylight. Kids everywhere. Be for real.”

I let him finish, then drive the butt of the gun into the soft spot at the base of his neck.

He crumples like a piece of paper. I grab him under the arms and drag him deeper behind the tent and out of view. My pulse is steady. My anger’s blazing hot.

I crouch down low beside him, cocking my head, listening.

This part always takes me back.

Heat. Bugs. Sweat. Waiting in dead silence for an insurgent convoy that might not even exist. Flies. Fear. The way time moves differently when you’re not sure you’re going to survive the next five minutes.

Then—footsteps.

Measured and soft, coming around the bend.

On instinct, I move fast.

My gun is pressed to his temple, pinning him in place.

He stiffens, just like his partner. “Okay,” he breathes, putting his hands up. “Just relax.”

“Fuck you.” I dig the gun further into his skin. “You’re gonna answer whatever I ask you, and you won’t argue. If that goes well, I’ll let you keep your teeth.”

“I don’t know shit,” he grits.

I blow out a breath. “See, now you’re pissing me off.”

“Somebody sent me here.”

“Who?”

He hesitates. “I don’t know his name.”

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