**Chapter 19: Story **

Holly and Ned sat down along the slope beside the drain pipe, looking intently at the grizzled man who lounged on the pipe in front of them. He wore a small, faded green kufi on his head, hiding his graying hair underneath it. His face was crinkled with age, and his kind eyes glowed warmly out of the dim surroundings. He held his hands in his lap, moving them expressively as he spoke softly. His dark, rich voice echoed below the bridge as he told his tale.

“Well, like I was sayin’, me and Darryl was good friends. We tried to stick together, you know, have each other’s back. ‘Course it wasn’t always that way. Fact is, when we first met, we didn’t much care for each other at all.

“You see, we first met when I tried to work his part of State Ave. one day. I hadn’t been doing too well on my old strip, so I thought I’d move up further north and see if I could do any better.

“The week before, I’d managed to come across some tools at a construction site and had nabbed a squeegee there, so not only was I imposin’ on Darryl’s section of the street, I was also doing the exact gig he was. Not to mention, I was just learnin’ the trade, you know, and I hadn’t really had a chance to hone my technique. So I wasn’t doin’ the best job of cleain’ the windows, ‘specially compared to Darryl.

“It was all right the first few days, since we didn’t run into each other. A couple of guys had told me that Darryl normally squeegeed that section of the street, but to be honest, I didn’t care. I was just trying to eke by, know what I mean?

“But eventually, Darryl and I ran into each other. He had been hearin’ stuff about another guy down on his street ruinin’ his reputation and all, so when he finally saw me, he wasn’t to pleased. But if you know Darryl, he wadn’t one to get real angry and up in your face about somethin’. So he stopped me later that afternoon after most people had cleared the street ad I was headin’ home, and he simply asked me to move either further north or further south.

“He explained that he’d been workin’ that partickler section of the street for some time, and that he had reputation that he’d built, and it just wouldn’t work to have two guys tryin’ to squeegee the same section. He explained that it made more sense for us to split up ‘cause we’d be able to have more customers.

“Wal, what he said made sense, but it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. And him bein’ so friendly about everything, I didn’t take him seriously. So I told him he could shove it and I just kept on goin’, doin’ what I always did.

“Next day, Darryl came up and said basically the same thing, askin’ me to move on north or south again. And again, I told him the same thing. But he was a persistent bastard, and every day he came up to me, polite as the last time, and explained the situation again.

“Eventually, it got to the point where I was considerin’ movin’ on just so I wouldn’t have to listen to his lecture every day. I started tryin’ to avoid him during the day, but he usually found me.

“One day, I had had it partickly rough, and there he was, comin’ on to ask be to move on, and I just lost it. I let him have it. We got into a bit of a scuffle, and Darryl, bein’ as mild-mannered and small as he was, didn’t put up much of a fight. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I didn’t hurt him real bad or nothin’, but I did pound on him a bit.

“It made me feel a lot better, and I thought that he’d finally get the picture that I wasn’t plannin’ on goin’ anywhere, but the next day, he found me again and started talkin’ to me.

“This time, though, he’d changed his tactics. He said that if I wasn’t movin’ on, the least I could do was stop ruinin’ his reputation. So he offered to teach me how to do a better job with the squeegee. I could hardly believe my ears. I mean, I’d just hit him up the day before – he still had a bruise on his face from where I’d let him have it.

“But as usual, it was a genuine offer, so I spent that day workin’ with him, learnin’ his technique and listenin’ to him ramble on about his experiences and whatnot. Man, he liked to talk.” He paused, smiling and shaking his head.

“I mean, Darryl’d talk and talk and talk – didn’t matter if no one was listenin’. He just liked to talk. But anyway, that night he invited me back here, to this bridge, with him, and we spent the rest of the night talkin' ‘bout everything under the sun.

“And that was really all it took. We started workin’ together every day, and he taught me a lot. And he and I just became real good friends. I don’t really know why. By all accounts, we really shoulda still hated each other. We were very different people, but somehow we ended up makin’ it work.

“Eventually he and I agreed to stop workin’ together. It really made the most sense, since we could cover twice as much area in the same amount of time. He finally got his way, I guess – I moved on up a lit further north and he stayed working his area, but we would get together here at the end of the day, and share whatever we had. Sometimes he had a good day, sometimes I did, most times neither of us did, but we shared everything and we ended up all right I guess.

“As time went on, me and him didn’t talk as much as we had, and he started spending more time at the shelter, I guess. I never much cared for places like that, though he told me St. Ives was diff’rent. Anyway, when we started hearin’ all the stories ‘bout people disappearin’, we decided we’d better start stickin’ together again. It just made sense. So we started workin' together again, and we did all right.

“But one night, Darryl decided he wanted to go to the shelter for a meal, and when I told him I really didn’t want to go, he just left without me. I didn’t seem him until really late the next day. I figgered he’d just ended up stayin’ the night there or somethin’, but when he came back he was all beat up. He’d stopped by St. Ives ad I guess got cleaned up, but he looked terrible. He was limpin’, cuts and bruises all over his body – he was a wreck.

“He wasn’t talkin’ much either, and I knew better than to press him to tell me what had happened. So we just kept on doin’ what we always did for the next few days. I figgered he’d tell me when he was ready. And finally, about a week after it had happened, he did.”

James paused and leaned forward, lowering his voice substantially. “Now, there were two cops snoopin’ around here earlier today, askin’ about him and showin’ pictures and whatnot, but I didn’t tell ‘em anything.” Holly and Ned glanced at each other as James frowned. So Ames and Cobb had been by.

“I don’t like cops – don’t trust ‘em. Anyway, you have to understand, I’m takin’ a big risk tellin’ you this, just like Darryl took a risk by tellin' me, but people need to know. Maybe then somethin’ can be done.”

He paused again, drawing Ned and Holly in closer before continuing at an even lower volume. “Darryl told me, that as he was walkin’ to St. Ives, that a man had pulled over on the street – he couldn’t remember exactly where – and started talkin’ to him. He had said he recognized Darryl from a time when he’d cleaned the windshield of his car, and he just wanted to compliment him on the job.

“He gave Darryl a twenty dollar bill, and then asked him if he wanted to make a lot more. He told Darryl that it was a really simple thing he needed done, and that if Darryl was willing there could be a lot of money in it.

“Darryl wasn’t one to believe in these get-rich-quick schemes, but he told me that the man seemed so sincere – so honest and friendly. So Darryl accepted the offer and had accepted a ride in the man’s car. He didn’t know where they had gone. He said they had driven for quite awhile.

“They arrived at some warehouse or somethin’, and the man had led Darryl into this huge empty room. Then, while Darryl waited, a whole bunch of men started coming in and standing around the inner walls of the room. Darryl said at least 30 to 40 men had come in, and they just stood around, not talkin’ to him or anything, just stayin’ quiet with these serious expressions on their faces, like they were anticipatin’ somethin’ exciting. Most of ‘em were wearin’ suits or sports jackets, Darryl had said, and they all seemed to be businessmen or somethin’ judgin’ from what they were wearin'.

“Then the man who had picked Daryl up walked in and started talkin’. ‘Well gentlemen, tonight we have a man named Darryl. He works down on State Ave. , where many of you work, and squeegees your windows for loose change… I think a lot of you are familiar with him.’ A lot of the men standing around let out a whoop, and the man smiled. ‘Well, I think you all know how this works, so who’s first tonight?’ A bunch of men raised their hands, and the man pointed to one in the back of the room. ‘OK, looks like you’re our lucky guy tonight. Make us proud.’ The man who’d picked Darryl up stepped out with the other men, and the one he’d pointed out stepped into the center of the circle with Darryl. Darryl didn’t know what was happenin'.

“The man took his shirt off and ran towards Darryl, and hit him square in the face, knocking him to the ground. He waited for Darryl to get back up, then hit him again. Darryl tried to get up and run away, or out of the room, but the men in the circle would grab him and throw him back in.

“I asked ‘im if he tried to fight back, and he said he did, but there were too many of ‘em. As soon as he got a good shot in, somebody else would step into the circle and beat him even harder. By the end of the night, he said he was just layin’ on the floor, blood leakin’ out of him, prayin’ that’d all be over soon. He passed out while they were still beatin’ on him.”

Holly felt like she was going to be sick. She had experienced her share of violence, but this beating that James spoke of sounded almost sports-like. Who were all these men? Did they really get off on beating a defenseless homeless man nearly to death?

James noticed his audience’s discomfort and broke off his more detailed description that Darryl had given him. His voice was still low and he looked around nervously, searching for anyone that might be listening in surreptitiously. Satisfied that all was clear, he continued.

“Anyway, Darryl came to after the man who’d picked him up splashed some water on his face. They threw him back into the car and drove him back to the street where they’d picked him up. Before they dropped him off, the man said, ‘Darryl, I hope you understand that if you tell anyone about this, and I mean anyone,’ – he was very clear on this point – ‘I’m gonna hunt you down and kill not only you, but every single person that you told.’ Darryl believed him. He said there was somethin’ in his eyes that told him he was serious.

That’s why Darryl wouldn’t tell nobody – and that’s why I’ve been careful m’self. But there comes a time when this kinda things got to be exposed, and maybe y’all can do it.”

James sat back on the pipe and sighed heavily. He was pleased to finally tell someone Darryl’s story, but worried too – now these fine people, friends of Darryl’s, also had the burden of Darryl’s experience? There was little doubt in James’ mind that the man responsible for Darryl’s abduction and beating was also responsible for his death. Would he also now harm these people, and James himself?

Holly and Ned looked at each other. They also understood the magnitude of the situation. It seemed their quest for answers had yielded some, but also created more questions.

**Chapter 18: Memory **

“Joel?” He opened his eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the bright light that now shone into his room. His mother’s concerned eyes stared down at him, his father smiled grimly from the corner.

“It’s good to see you awake, son,” his father said, walking over and placing a hand on his shoulder as his mother buried her teary face in his chest.

“Mom, I’m OK…” he protested. Why did she always have to worry so much?

“I know, that’s why I’m crying.” He rolled his eyes. His mother slowly tore herself away from him, content eventually to hold his hand.

“When we didn’t hear from you, we started to worry,” his dad began. “But we figured you were tired and forgot to call or something. Then the police called, and we tried to get down here as fast as we could, but you were in surgery, and even after that the police wouldn’t let us get in here until they’d had a chance to talk to you. What did they want to know, anyway?”

“Just what happened, that’s all,” Joel answered, staring up at the white ceiling.

“Well, we’re just glad that you’re all right,” his mom interjected.

“I am, mom, I am.” He patted her hand in reassurance.

“Well, how was the return trip? We read all your letters. Sounds like you had a great time.”

“Yeah, the trip back was pretty uneventful. It was sort of sad, really. I mean, I was excited to be coming back here, you know, but I sort of felt like I was leaving home, too. It was very strange.”

“Well, son you were there for almost 6 months. I suppose that place is a part of you now.”

Joel smiled at his father’s phrasing. It was a little melodramatic, to be sure, but he did like the sound of it, and in truth, it wasn’t that far off the mark. The culture he’d experienced there, the people, the way the people there had approached life – it was all a part of him. It was something that he’d nev er forget, something that would shape all of his decisions and thoughts from now on.

“Well, I guess if you’ve read my letters, then there’s not a whole lot left to tell…”

“Oh, nonsense! We have plenty of questions! Do you feel up to talking?”

Joel smiled. If there was one thing he felt like doing, it was talking. It was nice to revel in their interest for awhile, to explain the experiences which had changed him so much, and the pain was bearable now, so he should make the best of the opportunity.

His father pulled up a chair and sat, and Joel told them about his trip from start to finish, making embellishments here and there for dramatic effect. They were a captive audience – neither of them had nev er traveled outside the state, let alone the country – and Joel did his best to explain the paramount differences in culture and world-view that he had experienced on his trip, and what he had felt he learned.

None of the trio noticed when Ames and Cobb entered the room.

“So Sean pauses, for effect, you know, then says, ‘A date with Natalie Port man.’ That’s all he wanted!” His parents broke out in appreciative chuckles. “So after we all got done laughing…”

“Excuse me Mr. Mendocino,” Ames broke in, clearing his throat to get their attention. Joel looked up at him. What did they want?

“Hi detective. What can I do for you?”

The two detectives strode in, dragging chairs from the small table in the corner and sat down around his bed. They had been traveling around for most of the day, talking to every homeless man they could find in an effort to figure out who was responsible for Darryl’s murder.

What they had been told baffled them. The homeless men had told them all the same story – some mysterious disappearances had occurred, people would wind up beaten up, but wouldn’t say anything more about it. No one they’d spoken to knew Darryl personally, so they said, but both Ames and Cobb had gotten the feeling that some of them were holding back, especially a grizzled man down on 59 th .

They had checked some records back at the station and at local hospitals, and had found several unsolved crimes the past few mont hs, all involving homeless people. Nearly 100% of the cases they had found involved men.

None of the homeless had pressed charges, of course, and were tight-lipped about what had happened, so the cases were closed and no one took a second look. But Ames and Cobb agreed – there was a pattern there.

It was still a long shot to tie Darryl into the whole scheme. By most accounts, he had been abducted, but none of the other abductees had been killed, and it was still a distinct possibility that his death was just random. But in the end, Cobb and Ames agreed that their instincts needed to be trusted, especially this early in the investigation, and their instincts said that there was something behind all of this – something sinister, something that needed to be stopped, and behind it all, there was a case that could make their careers.

Bereft of clues, they decided to go back to the source, to the only witness to the crime, even though he hadn’t been able to tell them anything useful on their first visit. Perhaps he’d remember more now.

“Well, Mr. Mendocino, we’re hoping you can give us some more information. You see, we’ve been around talking to a lot of homeless people today, and they’ve given us some leads, but we really need a description of your assailants.

“Admittedly, this is a long shot, but we think the men who killed Darryl – that was the name of the homeless man we found with you – and shot you are possibly connected to a lot other violent crime, especially among the homeless. Obviously, if these guys have escalated to m ur der and have a history of violence, we’re probably going to see a lot more needless deaths if we don’t find them soon.”

Joel protested, “Well, I already told you what I know… I’m not sure what else you want me to try and remember. I didn’t really get a good look at them…” This wasn’t entirely true. In fact, Joel had gotten a solid look at their faces, but he hadn’t been paying attention. After all, they were pointing a gun at him. He wasn’t making mental notes about their shoe size or the number of freckles on their faces at that point.

His mother joined in the protest. “Detectives, my son just got shot! Can’t you give him a little time to recover before you come in here barraging him with questions and making…”

“Monica,” Joel’s father interrupted. “They’re just trying to find the men that did this. Joel can say no if he wants to. It’s his decision.”

Ames continued. “Well, what we’d like to do, Joel, if I may call you that, is just have you relax and concentrate on the experience as you think back on it. We’ve found that many times, if you just relax and focus on a single element of your memory, you can recall things that you forgot or didn’t even fully realize before.”

Joel nodded. He wasn’t terrible keen on trying to think back on the experience of getting shot, but if it would help the detectives find the men and possibly save someone else, then it would be worth his discomfort.

Ames motioned outside Joel’s door, where a young woman stood with a large sketch pad and an assortment of pencils in her arms.

“Joel, this is Karen, one of the artists on our staff down at the station. She’s just going to try and draw some sketches based on the descriptions that you can give us. Don’t worry about her. Just close your eyes and ell us what you can. We’ll do the rest.”

Joel laid back against the pillow and shut his eyes as Karen moved yet another chair into the cramped suite and sat down, pencil at the ready.

He thought back to the delicious taste of the bagel on his tongue, the feel of the concrete and loose gravel as it crunched under his feet, and the feeling of sudden isolation he felt upon discovering he was lost.

He was standing in the empty alien alley again, turning round and round, looking for signs of familiarity, but he found none.

“I was in this alley that I’d nev er been in before – I didn’t know where I was.”

Bang! There it was – the shot! But was it a shot, or just a firecracker, or a car misfiring?

“I heard a loud shot, but I didn’t know what it was.”

Then he was running, running, running towards the shot. Why was he running towards it? Why not away? His actions made no sense. He tried to force his body to turn, to stop, to at least slow, but he ran on.

There were voices now… what had they said?

“I heard them talking before I got there. One of them was yelling at the other for pulling the trigger and shooting the man, and he was saying he didn’t do it on purpose.”

He rounded the corner – there they were, looking down at the dumpster, where the shot man was lying, his body obscured from Joel’s view by the dumpster.

“OK, I see them now. They’re looking down at the man, but they don’t see me yet. The man with the gun is average height and build, dark brown hair, leather jacket, stubble on his face. The other man is a little shorter, say 5' 5” or so, with blonde hair, clean shaven, and a light black windbreaker. Both of them are wearing jeans.”

Ames glanced at Karen, then at Cobb. This description was so generic it’d be impossible to get Karen to create a useful drawing from it. Yet another dead end…

They turned and spotted him. He felt a strange, uncontrollable sense of fear. The gun was pointed directly at him. The man was saying something…

“Joel,” Cobb broke in. “Can you see any distinguishing features on either of the men? Something bout the way they walk, or a scar, or something?”

“No, no, don’t shoot…” A sweat broke out on his brow and he shook his head from side to side on the pillow, eyes still clenched shut.

“ Cal m down Joel, it’s all right,” Cobb continued. “Concentrate – is there anything that stands out in your mind?”

Joel let out a gasp, then a low moan, then went limp on the bed. He was lying on the sidewalk, reeling in agony; his insides felt as though they’d been ripped apart. He looked up at the men as they t ur ned away, vaguely aware of Cobb’s voice trickling down from the heavens.

Then, a sudden point of clarity – there, on the shooter’s hand, a mark. As they turned and ran, Joel willed himself to focus on that mark. Time slowed down; he stepped frame by frame through the scene, and zoomed in on the mark, bringing it into better focus. Then, suddenly, it was gone, and he was falling endlessly again.

He awoke a few minutes later, amidst confused chatter and argument from his parents, the detectives, and Heather, who had come in after hearing the commotion.

“Give me the paper,” Joel said. No response. “Give me the paper!” he said again, finally getting the attention of the others in the room. There was a moment of stunned silence, then Karen thrust her pad and pencil at him. She held the pad for him while he awkwardly sketched the mark he had seen on the page as best he could.

He finished it, and handed the pencil back to Karen. “That mark was tattooed on the right hand of the shooter, between the thumb and forefinger. Now _that _ is all I can remember.” He sunk back into the bed – he wanted peace, quiet, and sleep.

Cobb and Ames looked at the picture, than at each other. Now this was something they could work with.

Chapter 17: Journey

Ernie was stuffed. He and Ken pushed away from the table, entirely satisfied with the hearty meal that Rhonda and the other St. Ives volunteers had provided them. The dining hall, which had been silent during the meal as groups of hungry homeless dug in to their meals, was now home to a healthy din of activity, as well-fed men and women chatted, discussed, and joked.

Rhonda and her staff bustled around the hall, stopping occasionally to say hello to someone they hadn’t seen in a long time, or to welcome someone new and make sure they felt welcome to come and dine at St. Ives any time.

This afternoon, Rhonda was particularly busy. The unseasonably warm weather had brought visitors from all over. When the weather was warm, people tended to get out and walk further, so the dining hall was bursting at the seams with hungry mouths. She ran back and forth from the kitchen, stopping every once in awhile to greet some of the visitors personally and introduce herself personally. She wore a big friendly smile on her face, and despite her business, always gave each individual her full attention while she talked with them.

Ernie and Ken were seated a smaller table in the corner of the room right next to the kitchen door, where they observed the other diners with passive interest. Ernie didn’t recognize many of the people there today. They were probably from the west side, and were only able to make it to St. Ives today because of the weather.

He had overheard a couple of conversations, while he and Ken ate their soup quietly, about Darryl. It wasn’t uncommon to hear familiar names, especially after someone got arrested, hurt, or killed, particularly amongst residents or frequent visitors to St. Ives.

He hadn’t gotten any more information about exactly what had happened to Darryl, but there had been quite a bit of talk about the mysterious disappearances of people the past few weeks, and their reappearance with fresh cuts and bruises. The general consensus among those Ernie overheard was that Darryl had gotten “abducted” as well, except this time, he’d wound up dead.

Ernie and Ken relaxed at their table once the meal was complete, waiting for the dining room to clear out somewhat. It was just as well; their bellies were so overstuffed with Rhonda’s hearty soup that they could barely move.

It didn’t take long for the crowd to leave the dining hall after lunch was complete. It was a warm day, after all; a day that would best be spent working their corner or block, making the most of the warmth. It was __ a day to be spent inside, warming oneself in the heated interior of the shelter.

Ken, who’d been keeping a watchful eye on the clock that peered down across the dining hall, motioned to Ernie that they should get going. They had a few minutes to walk back to Dominick’s and meet Holly there. Neither Ken nor Ernie really knew what to expect from their journey to 59 th Street , but Holly seemed to think that someone there would know something, and it made sense to follow her lead. Ernie’s presence with them would increase their credibility anyhow, and they’d be more likely to get the information they were seeking.

Ken’s zeal for the investigative arts had cooled somewhat. He had come to the conclusion, after they were unable to gain access to the hospital, that the life of a true investigator was nothing like that in his books, and that he’d be better off finding another occupation. He had, however, dragged Ernie along on this whole escapade, and felt somewhat responsible to see it through to its conclusion. Besides, if they did by some miracle manage to find out what happened to Darryl… well, that would be cool. His friends on the corner would definitely give him mad props for that.

They stood up from the table and waved at Rhonda in the kitchen, then headed out of St. Ives towards Dominick’s.

The hours between Ernie and Ken’s initial visit and three seemed to stretch on forever as Holly and Ned rang up customer after customer. Ned was moving a little more slowly than usual; his mind was on other things. He worried about Holly. She had put on a brave face when they had come back into the store, but inside he knew she wasn’t doing so well. He had seen her talking at length with Darryl after work in the parking lot; they had talked about life, love, the pursuit of happiness, and everything else under the sun.

It continued to amaze him how easily Holly spoke to everyone, especially the homeless. Her natural listening ear combined with Darryl’s love to speak had naturally drawn them to each other. Ned had not been privy to many of their conversations, but he knew that to Holly, Darryl was a special friend – she would miss him.

He looked at his watch for what seemed like the millionth time. Only a few minutes had passed, but three o’clock was almost upon them. He flipped the light on his register, signaling that he was now closed.

“Don’t worry,” he said to the confused customers still in his line. “I’ll finish up with whoever’s in my line right now, I’m just not going to be taking any new customers.” He smiled reassuringly back at them, and finished checking out the final customer in record time.

Holly was already headed back towards he back of the store to punch out, so he quickly double-checked his register and followed her blonde head back to the time-card system.

They remained silent as they walked together to the front of the store and pushed through the revolving door into the glaring mid-afternoon sun. Ernie and Ken were just walking into the parking lot, and the four of them rendezvoused in the middle of the nearly deserted lot.

Ernie still wasn’t his usual active self, Holly noticed, but the lunch had done him good; at least he didn’t look so peaked – just sad. His headphone’s still hung around his neck uselessly, which was unusual and ind icated that perhaps he had been taking this harder than she had initially thought. Well, hopefully the guys at 59 th street would be able to shed some light on the whole situation and give them all a little bit of closure.

Ned was glad that he’d driven the van today. Normal ly he drove an old, barely running Volkswagen Jetta, but it had not been cooperating this morning, so Lavina had offered to take the bus to her job across town, so Ned could take the van. The van would easily accommodate all four of the travelers; the Jetta would have been quit a squeeze.

Everyone piled in, Ned driving, Holly in the passenger seat, and Ken and Ernie in the back, staring silently out the window as they pulled out of the parking lot. The trip to 59 th was not far, and traffic was light at this point in the afternoon, so they arrived at the underpass within a few minutes.

Ned pulled over to the right and turned on his emergency fla shers. There was nowhere to park in this area, but he hoped they wouldn’t be staying long; though Holly knew several of the people here, and Ernie was no doubt a familiar face to most, he still felt uncomfortable. He didn’t readily admit it, especially to Holly, but the grubby faces with their piercing eyes and wary stares, the dirty, worn corduroys, jeans, and jackets, and the makeshift dwellings made of cardboard and newspaper – all of it made him very uncomfortable.

He stuck close to Holly as she moved confidently through the individual dwellings under the bridge, Ernie and Ken trailing a short distance behind. She stopped several times to speak with people she recognized, but moved on after determining that the person knew nothing about Darryl.

They milled about for around 20 minutes, Holly growing more and more impatient as they walked. No one knew anything – or if they did, they weren’t telling her. As they passed by the dark recesses of a drain pipe along the lower end of the slope, a low, rich voice called out softly.

“Hey.” Holly turned, peering in the direction from which the voice had come. She saw nothing. “Down here, in the pipe.” Looking down she saw the silhouetted outline of a man lying inside the large pipe, a thin blanket wrapped around him.

“As long as the water ain’t runnin’, there’s not a better bed for miles,” he said, referring to the pipe in which he laid. “I hear you guys are lookin’ for Darryl.”

Holly stepped closer to the man, who pulled himself out of the pipe and stood to greet them.

“Well, not exactly… Darryl’s dead…” Holly said softly, looking down at her feet as she spoke.

“Oh, I know,” the man responded. “My name’s James. We’se quite a pair, me and him. Used to share everything we made, everything we had. We were good friends. So if there’s somethin’ you want to know about him, I’m your man.” He thrust his hand out at Holly, who took it and shook it firmly. Ned followed suit.

“Well, it ain’t much,” James said, motioning at the concrete slope alongside the drain pipe. “But have a seat… let’s talk about Darryl.”

The scene faded out, movie like, and Joel was once again in the hospital. His body ached, but at least the sharp pain had dulled. It must have been a dream, he thought. A dream based on the memory of that tremendous night the three of them had shared. The following day he had said goodbye to both Pang and Sean, and had continued on his trip alone. He had taken Sean’s thoughts to heart, and had made a concerted effort throughout the rest of his trip to just sit back and take it all in; to fully absorb the experience and make it his. His only regret had been that Sean hadn’t made the comment earlier.

But now, laying in the hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling, he wondered if Sean had been right. He didn’t feel like he had a lot of time. He had been shot! He felt robbed. This was supposed to be his triumphant return. He had learned so much, and now he was to apply it to his life, to make sense of everything, and to make things better. But instead some idiot had shot him, for no apparent reason, and he was laying in a hospital, probably barely clinging to his life.

It seemed ludicrous. Fate had such a twisted sense of humor. He had gone so far, learned so much, only to be idle again, his brain left to stew and figure out ways to defeat itself.

Heather appeared in the doorway again, looking as angelic as she had before. At least it wasn’t all bad around here.

“Hi again, Joel. Feeling all right?” she asked softly, sitting down in the chair next to his bed. He looked over at her and smiled weakly.

“I’m OK.”

She smiled back. “Well, there are a couple of detectives here that would like to talk to you if you’re feeling up to it. They’re trying to figure out what happened.”

Joel nodded. “OK.”

Heather stood up and signaled to the two men waiting outside, then moved to the back of the room as they entered.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Mendocino, I’m Detective Cobb, and this is my partner, Detective Ames. We know you need to rest, but it would really help us out if you could tell us what happened.”

Joel closed his eyes and thought back to the plane, to the train ride, to the bagel, and to the altercation in the alley – all of the events that had happened since his return. His thoughts were muddy, everything seemed to run together.

“I was walking to my apartment…” he began. “I had gotten off the train, and had stopped by Dominick’s to get something to eat.”

Ames interrupted, “We found you a few blocks east of your apartment? How did you wind up there?”

Joel furrowed his brow, trying to remember exactly what had happened. “I don’t know,” he responded. “I wasn’t really paying attention. I was pretty tired and wasn’t concentrating. I remember hearing a loud bang and running towards it… there were two men there, and one of them had a gun. I pleaded with them, but they were crazy. The guy with the gun just shot me for no reason, then they ran off.”

“I didn’t see the other guy on the ground until after I got shot. I picked him up and tried to walk to the street, but I don’t know how far I made it. That’s all I remember.” He laid back against the pillow. The pain was growing again.

“Did you know the other man?” Cobb asked, taking notes on a small notepad.

“No. Is he OK?”

“Unfortunately, he was dead when we found you. From what the doctor tells me, you barely made it yourself.”

Joel groaned. The pain was becoming unbearable again. “I think that’s enough for now, Detectives,” Heather spoke up as she moved towards Joel’s bedside again.

Cobb nodded. “OK, Mr. Mendocino. Thanks a lot for your help. We’ll let you know if we find anything.” The detectives turned and exited, and Joel floundered, feeling for the plunger that would bring him relief. Heather placed it back in his hand and he pressed it, feeling the relaxing drug flow wonderfully through him again.

Chapter 16: Angelo

Breakin’ the law, breakin’ the law…

Breakin’ the law, breakin’ the law… Mike sang along with the Judas Priest song blaring on the radio as he hurtled down the highway at high speed, weaving in and out of traffic, using the shoulder as his own private lane. He felt __. In fact, he felt invincible! He was going to go to Angelo’s seedy “office,” explain the situation to him, and if he didn’t understand, then tough shit.

He was sick of taking it up the ass from everyone. Bill at work, Marie at home, and Angelo… he was sick of it. It was going to stop today – now.

He abruptly noticed his exit on the left and swung the wheel dramatically, cutting across the four lanes of traffic that separated him and the exit, and laughed aloud as the cars behind him slammed on their brakes and their horns. He was in control – everyone else still worried about their cars, their jobs, their lives, but he was free. He didn’t care about any of it anymore, and that made him powerful.

He careened toward the old warehouse that Angelo called his office, just east of the highway, in a part of town that was about as far from ritzy as you could get. Mike didn’t know exactly which arm of the underworld Angelo worked for, but he knew he wasn’t all that powerful. If he had been, Mike would never had seen him – he would be protected behind other, more expendable characters.

Angelo was not to be underestimated, though. He had quite a temper, despite his cold, calculating persona, and enough goons under his control that Mike knew it would be suicidal to approach Angelo violently. That wasn’t his goal, at least at this point.

He parked the oversized SUV in the empty lot across from Angelo’s abandoned warehouse, wondering as he stepped out of the vehicle just how Marie had managed to talk him into buying something so obviously out of place in a city. He locked the door remotely, a happy beep-beep confirming the vehicle’s supposed security as he stepped towards the warehouse entrance.

He looked at the dilapidated brick and faded signs posted on the outside of the warehouse. Angelo really didn’t keep his place in very good condition, considering his annual income – all tax-free, Mike noted. It really wasn’t a bad deal, if you could handle the constant worry of law enforcement and the threat of prison. Not a bad deal at all.

Mike pounded on the door with his fist, then stepped away, anticipating the burly guard who swung the door open and inquired in a gruff voice. “Whaddya want?”

“I’m here to see Angelo about a payment,” Mike replied, brushing past the guard as he spoke. The door closed behind him, and the small sliver of sunlight disappeared. Mike stopped, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior of the warehouse.

European techno-pop blasted from a deceptively small boom box in the corner, where a group of card players seated around a table ignored his entrance completely, engrossed in their own game of chance.

On his left, a group of shady-looking characters stood next to a makeshift bar constructed of stacked crates and other miscellaneous junk; they regarded him with little interest as he walked on down towards Angelo’s main place of business in the back of the warehouse, maneuvering around crates of random items as he went.

The guard who’d granted him passage trailed behind him, monitoring his travel and ensuring he didn’t deviate from his stated purpose of visiting Angelo.

Upon reaching the door to what had been the warehouse’s small records office, he knocked quickly three times and twisted the doorknob, not waiting for the invitation to enter. There Angelo sat before him on the small love seat facing the door, three rather long lines of cocaine laid out on the low coffee table in front of him. A thin waif sat next to him, rouge and blush smeared clumsily on her once-attractive face.

Angelo looked up from the table, and seeing Mike, broke into a smile. “Mike!” he stood, opening his arms in welcome. “You know, I was just thinking about you. Here, here…” He motioned at the table in front of him. “Join me, there’s plenty for everyone.”

The girl bent down and inhaled one of the lines, whimpering softly upon its completion, then laid back in the love seat, bringing her hand to her nose as her pupils dilated and the stimulant began to take effect.

“No thanks, Angelo.”

“No? Well, more for me, I suppose.” He sat down and promptly inhaled both remaining lines, one in the left nostril and the other in the right, shaking his head hard when he was done. He looked up at Mike again, his nose bright red and an unfocused look in his eyes.

“Well, where is it?”

“I don’t have it,” Mike stated calmly.

Angelo raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have it?”

Mike nodded. “I don’t have it.”

Angelo stood again and approached Mike slowly. His five-foot-three frame was dwarfed next to Mike’s, but the maniacal gleam in his eyes indicated to Mike that he meant business. Mike stood his ground.

“Mike, your debt isn’t due until the end of the month, but you know the rules.”

Mike did know the rules, but he knew that that wouldn’t stop Angelo from reminding him of them now. Angelo seemed to take special pleasure in reminding people of the rules after they’d already been broken.

“The only reason you come to visit me unannounced is to pay off a debt. Anything else, you call me and I invite you here or we deal with it over the phone. You know how it works.” The girl on the couch looked up at them both and giggled, giddy with the coke and tension in the room.

“Shut up, bitch!” Angelo turned and yelled at her, causing the smile to melt right off her face. He turned back to Mike

Mike nodded. “I know, Angelo, but I wanted to come and tell you in person that I won’t be able to pay you back… ever.”

Angelo raised his eyebrows even higher in disbelief. “Ever? Hmmm…”

He turned, clasping his hands behind him as he paced slowly in the small room. “Well, I certainly appreciate the gesture, Mike, but as you know, I don’t run that kind of business. Around here, we have strict rules that we adhere to, and when someone breaks them, they’re punished. And whether you’ll have the money by the time it is due or not is really irrelevant to these proceedings. You came to visit me uninvited, without payment, which is an egregious breach of the contract you and I arranged at the time you bet on that horse. What was it’s name?” He paused, trying to remember the name, then resumed his pacing when the name eluded him.

Mike became aware of the guard from the entranceway behind him. “Well, it doesn’t matter what it’s name was now, I suppose.”

The guard reached towards Mike’s arm, but Mike was prepared. He’d been waiting for this moment. He sidestepped, grabbing the guards own wrist as he reached for Mike’s, and thrust his body against the guards, forcing him off balance and sent him tumbling towards the cocaine powdered coffee table.

He smashed face first into it, sending shards of imitation wood throughout the room. The girl screamed and picked her feet off the floor just in time to avoid getting them smashed by the falling body. Angelo moved towards the falling twosome, and Mike pushed himself off of the falling body and whirled around 180 degrees, grasping his hands together as he spun. His two united fists collided with Angelo’s cheek as he completed his spin, sending Angelo reeling.

Mike didn’t skip a beat. He separated his hands and pounced on Angelo while he was still off balance, pinning him against the wall and grabbing him around the neck. He was in control, and it felt good. He searched Angelo’s face for signs of fear, but there were none.

“You motherfucker,” Angelo squeaked, pushing hard on Mike’s hands with his own, trying to release Mike’s strangle hold, but it was useless.

“You don’t control me, Angelo!” Mike yelled, squeezing his hands tighter around the soft flesh of Angelo’s neck. His face was turning a satisfying color of red. “I’m going to fucking kill you, just like I killed that other fucking prick.”

The feeling of complete supremacy that he’d had while pounding away on Marie’s lover returned. He was invincible.

He felt a sharp pain on the back of his neck and felt his muscles go suddenly limp, then another strike to the back of his skull brought complete blackness.

Angelo pushed his motionless body off of him, inhaling deeply to regain his composure. He leaned on Marty, who had come to his rescue from the interior of the warehouse, catching his breath. He kicked Mike’s body as hard as he could. “Who’s in control now, bitch?”

Chapter 14: Watson

Ernie wasn’t his usual self. His thoughts had cleared a bit since he had first set his eyes on Darryl’s motionless body, but the image kept coming back to him at inopportune times, sending a shudder through his body each time.

Ken was riding alongside him, occasionally breaking off to scout out ahead in a large circle, then riding back to resume a slower pace beside him. The both of them were headed to Elston Memorial hospital to see the other guy who’d been shot. Ken had said his name was Joel.

Ernie wasn’t particularly interested in any of this, but Ken seemed excited about trying to figure out what had happened, and Ernie felt it necessary to come along, if only to keep Ken company. They had, in the past, kept each other out of trouble by posing as father and son, or uncle and nephew, or any one of a number of fictitious relationships that proved advantageous in certain situations. It had gotten them out of a few scrapes, and rewarded Ken with a rather large collection of otherwise unattainable mens’ magazines.

Ernie’s thoughts wandered back to what Darryl had said that day in the dining hall at St. Ives. He wasn’t much of an analytical thinker. He knew he had been frightened at the tone of Darryl’s voice, and he’d made it a point to remember exactly what he’d said, even though his memory was especially terrible. But what could the meaning have been? It seemed obvious that Darryl’s comments and his death were somehow linked, but how, Ernie didn’t know.

Ken returned from one of his scouting trips and said hurriedly, “Come on, Ernie, let’s go! We’re almost there.” He motioned to the large riding pegs mounted on his rear wheel. “Hop on… it’ll be faster.”

Ernie grimaced as he stepped up onto the pegs and gripped Ken’s shoulders for balance. He hated riding with Ken this way – he much preferred to walk. But when Ken was in a hurry, there was no arguing with him, so Ernie held on tightly and together they zoomed down the shallow hill towards Elston Memorial.

Ken was right; the bike was faster, and the looming multistoried building that was Elston Memorial was soon upon them. The hospital wasn’t as busy as Ken and Ernie had imagined. The parking lot was only half-full, and the occasional flashing lights and flurry of activity at the emergency room entrance as an ambulance drove up was the only sign of life in the entire hospital grounds.

Ken wheeled around the parking lot, weaving between parked cars, and Ernie held on more tightly. He knew Ken was doing this for his benefit. He’d have to get him back later. He had to admit that the wind rushing through his hair felt nice, though. If he could get the fear of falling off out of his head, riding with Ken might actually be fun.

Ken pulled to a stop in front of the main entrance and pulled his chain lock around the front tire, locking it securely. Together he and Ernie walked into the hospital.

Ernie wasn’t exactly sure what Ken’s plan was, but hopefully it’d be something they’d done before. Ernie didn’t improvise well, but they had a large enough repertoire of practiced scams that improvisation was rarely necessary.

They approached the front desk and Ken peered over the counter at the nurse sitting there. “We’re here to see Joel Mendocino,” he said.

The nurse looked over at them. “OK, friends or family?” She addressed the question to Ernie. Ken interjected, “My uncle’s deaf; you’ll have to have me ask him questions in sign language. But we’re family. Joel’s my cousin. We heard something had happened to him, and that he’d been taken here.”

Ernie was relieved; no quick thinking would be necessary today. The deaf uncle role was one with which he was very familiar. Neither he nor Ken really knew sign language, but they had perfected a series of motions that convinced most people they were really communicating, and if faced with someone who actually did know ASL, they would simply say that Ernie had learned a little known Eastern European signing style, and leave it at that. It was a simple scam, but worked amazingly well.

The nurse turned back towards the computer in front of her. “Mendocino, you say? Hmmm, he’s still in surgery. He should be out in the next hour or so, but he’ll be unconscious for awhile after that. I’m afraid I can’t let you see him.”

Ken frowned. This wasn’t working out at all like the mystery novels he’d been reading. He’d have to think of something else. Ken motioned at Ernie with his hands. Ernie responded, waving his hands in a strange wavy arc.

“My uncle wants to know if anyone else in his family has been contacted, or if anyone else has come to see Joel.”

The nurse examine her monitor again. “Well, it looks like the police have contacted his parents. They should be here shortly.”

Ken and Ernie exchanged hand motions again. “OK, thanks a lot miss. You have a nice day.” The two of them turned and walked out of the hospital back into the afternoon sun. Ernie suddenly realized he was getting hungry.

Ken seemed to read his mind. “Let’s get something to eat, Ernie. You think Rhonda would mind if I ate with you at St. Ives?” Ernie nodded. Unlike the van Zandt’s, Rhonda’s kitchen was open to everyone. Ernie’s rumbling stomach got the better of him and he hopped on the back of Ken’s bike. Ken knew a few short cuts, which combined with the faster speed of the bike would put them back at St. Ive’s in pretty good time.

As Ken dodged the large puddles of water behind the Dominick’s, one of his favorite shortcuts, Ernie glanced over behind the store, and glimpsed the nice girl from the store talking with two other strange looking men. He didn’t recognize the other man that stood with them, but he was dressed the same way the girl was, so he probably worked with her.

He tapped on Ken’s shoulder, signaling him to stop. Ken put on the brakes and looked over his shoulder. “What is it?”

Ernie motioned towards where the girl and her companions stood talking. The girl had started to cry and the her apparent coworker was hugging her.

Ken knew what Ernie was thinking. He turned the handlebars and wheeled around the sidewalk towards the back of the store, staying within the bounds of the alley in order to appear as though the two of them were just innocently riding by. After they cleared the back wall of the store, he stopped and they both dismounted. He laid the bike down on the asphalt and together they poked theirs heads around the wall, peering surreptitiously at the motley group before them.

The two strange looking men turned and walked back towards the store, forcing both Ken and Ernie to quickly hide their heads back behind the wall to avoid being seen. After a minute, Ken slowly stuck his head back around and looked again. The coast was clear this time; the two men were gone, and the girl stood with her head against her coworker’s chest, crying quietly.

“Ernie, you know her, right?” Ken turned and looked back at Ernie, who was still pressed against the wall, eyes closed. “Don’t worry, they’re gone. I don’t think they saw us.”

Ernie opened his eyes and relaxed slightly, then nodded in response to Ken’s inquiry.

“Well, let’s go talk to her. I’m think she knew Darryl.” Ernie nodded again. He was aware that the girl and Darryl knew each other; in fact, Darryl was partly responsible for introducing Ernie to her in the first place.

Ken picked his bike up off the asphalt and together they rounded the corner and walked towards the girl and her companion.

Holly noticed them approaching and smiled at Ernie amidst her tears. She broke from Ned’s arms and walked over to meet them, a small smile on her face despite the tears in her eyes. “Hi, Ernie,” she said, wrapping her arms around him in a short embrace.

“Hi…” Ernie replied softly, willing himself to remember her name.

“Holly,” she smiled as she pulled away from him. She giggled softly, then a sad looked reappeared on her face.

“Did you hear about Darryl?” she asked. Ernie nodded, sadness enveloping his face as well. Holly looked down at her feet. “Do you know what happened?”

Ernie nodded again, memories of Darryl’s face in the ambulance swirling in his mind once again. They stood in silence for awhile, looking at their feet, thoughts of Darryl pin balling between them.

Holly looked up a few minutes later, dried tears on her face, the sign of deep thought in her eyes. “Do you think maybe some of the guys down at the 59 th Street bridge might know what happened to him?” Ernie looked up at her and locked his gaze with her clear green eyes. He shrugged.

They looked down at the asphalt again, until Holly turned to Ned, who had quietly approached from behind them. “What time do you get off work, Ned?”

“Three o’clock today,” he said, glancing at his watch.

“Me too,” Holly replied. “Fancy a trip down to 59 th Street ?”

Ned shrugged. How could he refuse her now, with her tear-stained face and bright, expectant eyes?

Holly turned back to face Ernie, who was gazing at his feet once again. “We’re going to go to 59 th street to talk to some of the guys there at 3 o’clock, if you want to come, Ernie.” She glanced at Ken to make sure he’d heard the time, knowing Ernie wouldn’t remember it. She looked back at Ned. “Well, I guess you and I had better get back to work.”

Ernie looked up again and nodded in affirmation before turning slowly and walking back towards the alley beside the store and the sanctuary of St. Ives. Holly called over his shoulder at him as Ken walked his bike up alongside him.

“Ernie, I am sorry. I know Darryl was your friend too.” Holly turned and followed Ned back into the store. Ernie kept walking towards St. Ives, Ken alongside him.

Chapter 15: Awakening

Joel awoke in the hospital, only vaguely remembering how he’d gotten there. The circumstances surrounding his arrival at the hospital were not at the forefront of his mind – the pain he was in was. His side ached terribly. Looking down at his torso, he saw the white gauze covering it. He groaned as his movement shot white hot pain through his entire abdomen.

He rubbed his head and moaned again. His movement seemed to have set off a chain reaction of pain within his body that now radiated from his stomach through to the tips of his fingers. The door opened quietly and a strikingly attractive nurse glided in.

She smiled compassionately down at him and reached down to cover him with his blanket. He hadn’t even realized he was so cold, but her firm warm hands on his body made its uncontrollable shaking that much more apparent.

“Hi, Mr. Mendocino. My name is Heather. It’s good to see you awake. Try not to move too much. Your body needs some time to try and recover. I know you’re in a lot of pain. We’ve got you hooked up to a morphine drip, so just push on this to administer yourself another dose.” She placed a small white cylinder in his hand and gently wrapped his fingers around it.

“Joel…” he murmured.

“Excuse me?” Heather replied.

“Joel…” he swallowed. “ Cal l me Joel.”

Heather smiled. He pushed the small button on the top of the white cylinder and felt a wonderful warmness spread throughout his body. He relaxed almost immediately and lay back against the soft pillow. He sighed. Heather’s smiling face was the last thing he saw before he drifted off to sleep again, oblivious to the two men who stood outside his door, arguing with the doctor.

“So what do you think, Joel?”

Joel looked around to get his bearings. Where was he? He examined his surroundings slowly, taking in the dark claustrophobic walls of the building he was in, the light painting soft silhouettes against the tables and chairs, the murmur of mouths loosened by too much alcohol. This was the bar that he, Sean and Pang had gone to the night before Sean headed back to the States. He remembered now.

Sean repeated the question, getting Joel’s attention. “Huh?”

“Wow Joel, you can be so spacey sometimes!” Sean and Pang both laughed. Joel chuckled as well. “Come on, what’s the most important thing you want to do before you die?”

Joel looked down at his nearly empty cup of beer, now warm. “I don’t know,” he said. “There’s a lot of experiences I want to have, you know? I mean, the reason I came all the way over here was to try and figure things out, to find out who I am, to experience parts of the world I’ve only read about, you know?” Sean and Pang grinned and nodded in understanding.

“But I feel like I’ve wound up with more questions than answers. I feel even more confused than I did when I came. This whole trip has made me realize that there’s so many things in the world that I will nev er see, let alone understand, and how can I have an impact on anything, when the world is so big, and I understand so little of it.” He became conscious that he was rambling.

“I guess I just feel like it doesn’t matter what I do in the end, and that’s disheartening for me, because I need to feel like what I do matters, that it has an effect…” He looked down at his beer again and took the final swig of it.

“Well, you know…” Pang began. Sean groaned, rolling his eyes and burying his head in his hands. “ Cam us might say that life’s all about amassing experience, and that it doesn’t really matter what you do, or what effect you have, it only matter’s what experiences you…”

“Oh come off it, Pang.” Sean interrupted good-naturedly. They all laughed. Pang had a habit of bringing up literature or philosophy at somewhat random points in a conversation, and Sean, not being the most scholarly person one would ever meet, always ended up confused. None of them could deny the simple facts though; they had all come to Asia by different means, but searching for the same thing: answers to the big questions, or at least a compass to help them find the right direction.

Joel sighed, peering once again into his now empty glass of beer. “I used to think I had the world figured out,” he murmured. “I used to think that life was just a simple equation, and if I could figure out all the variables and all the constants, I could solve it and be happy. But it’s not that simple is it?” It was a rhetorical question, and there was a brief moment of silence before Sean interjected.

“You two,” he said, shaking his head. “I ask a simple question about what you guys want to do before you die, and you start talking about literary themes, and motifs, and all that crap, and you go off on this sad sob story about how you can’t figure life out. And to think I came all the way around the world just to run into two self-indulgent idiots like you guys.”

Pang and Joel exchanged satisfied glances. They enjoyed making Sean squirm.

“Since you guys can’t give a straight answer, I guess I’ll have to show you how it’s done.” He sat up straight in his chair, pausing for dramatic effect before continuing. “I would be totally complete, if I could do only one thing before I die.” He paused again, milking the attention that Pang and Joel were paying him.

“Just one date with Natalie Port man. That’s all.” He pushed back from the table as Pang and Joel burst out in laughter.

“What? I think it’s a noble pursuit! And trust me, with my charm and good looks, she’ll be putty in my hands. _Putty! _” He nodded confidently.

The other patrons of the bar shot confused glances over at Pang and Joel, who were laughing raucously, pounding on the table in an effort to rid themselves of the excess energy the mental image of Sean on a date with Natalie Portman had given them.

Sean pulled his chair back into the table as their laughter died down and the din of the bar returned to normal.

“Are you serious?” Joel asked, eyes still teary from the laughter.

“Hell, yeah! In all honesty, there’s not much else I want or need right now, really.”

“Yeah, I know, I feel the same way, but aren’t there things you want to see and experience while you can? I mean, you’re the one who asked the stupid question.”

“Yes, there are plenty of things I want to see and experience, but I also try my hardest not to take for granted what I do have, and what I have been able to experience. I seriously think you’re just pining away for things that you haven’t had a chance to experience yet. I guess it’s a cliché, but you seriously seem to think the grass is greener on the other side, but you haven’t even tasted the grass on your side, you know?”

Joe started to interrupt, but Sean held up his hand.

“Wait a second. Think about this. You’re sitting in a bar in Thailand , on a trip to Asia you saved up for mont hs and mont hs to take, with two random people you met during your travels, shootin’ the shit, and all you can talk about is how you’re worried that you don’t have it all figured out. Look outside, man, and remember where you are. Friggin’ just enjoy it.”

Joel looked out the open window, where the bustle of the nighttime street was slowing down gently, and the stars peeked out behind a haze of clouds that had earlier graced them with a gentle rain. The goofy oaf had a point. He sighed and let a smirk cross his face. Sean smiled.

“You’ve got plenty of time to change the world, Joel, if that’s what you really want to do. Plenty of time.”