“Fuck you,” Mickey shot back, tapping the brakes sharply. He enjoyed watching Duncan lurch forward, and he barked angrily, “For fuck’s sake, Duncan! You stayed all fucked up in a damn ditch! I thought you were fuckin’ dead!”
“But I wasn’t, I was just—”
“Shut up! Listen to me. That’s all I need you to do. Fuckin’ listen to me, and I can keep your little ass safe, okay?” Mickey hated to sound so desperate, but he was worried. “If Cold is gettin’ suspicious of you, you need to watch yourself, okay?”
“Suspicious? Of fuckin’ what?” Duncan’s voice hit a higher pitch. “What, that I’ve been ratting him out?”
“That maybe you’ve been ratting all of us out.” Mickey glared. “Shit’s been goin’ wrong that doesn’t have any damn business goin’ wrong, okay? I don’t wanna see you get pressed for somethin’ you didn’t do ’cause you are acting guilty as fuck.”
Duncan hung his head.
“You’re my best friend. My partner. We’ve been through some serious shit together.” Mickey hated to talk about this kinda crap, but he wanted Duncan to understand why he was so upset. “If you’re mad I called you a coward to save your ass, then be fuckin’ mad.”
“Whatever.” Duncan stared back out the window.
Mickey gritted his teeth and decided to give up. There wasn’t anything else he could do. He certainly couldn’t take back what he’d said, and Duncan would get over it eventually.
He always did.
Duncan still wasn’t speaking to Mickey when he went to go take a shower, but Pops was at least excited to leave the apartment. He didn’t bother asking why they had to go in such a hurry. He said he was looking forward to a change of scenery, and he went right along without complaint.
Mickey packed up clothes, linens, medicine, and all the soup in a cup he could find. He called the nurse to let her know that his grandfather would be moving temporarily and avoided her curious questions about the new location. He lent Duncan some fresh clothes and once he was ready, they all loaded up in the car.
Strassen Springs First Baptist was a small stone church nestled between million-dollar condos and towering office buildings. It looked small and meek; a little mouse lost in a sea of steel lions preparing to pounce at any second. The grounds were neglected, and it didn’t seem like anyone had been there in some time.
Mickey broke in through the back door and quickly explored. The sanctuary was dusty, Bibles ripped up and scattered everywhere, and some of the pews appeared to have been defecated on. The offices and classrooms were in a similar state of disarray, but the basement level was untouched, the door having been hidden behind stacks of old file boxes.
There was indeed a large kitchen and several rooms with beds and furniture. One even had a television, and Mickey was pleasantly surprised to find there was still cable and electricity running. He made up the bed in the room with the TV, laid out the clothing and medicine, and took the soup to the kitchen.
The basement was only accessible by the door Mickey had found, and it was at the end of a hall behind the sanctuary. Easy enough to push some of the boxes back into place when he wasn’t here. The church itself had three entry points; the back door Mickey had broken, a side door that led down into some classrooms, and heavy front doors for the sanctuary that were chained and padlocked.
“It’s good,” Mickey told Duncan when he came back to the car. “It’s a real good spot.” Duncan’s face lit up and Mickey kept going, “I’ll talk to Cold about maybe some of us setting up here too.”
“Thanks, Mickey.” Duncan smiled warmly. “I appreciate that.”
“Yeah, man. I got you.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re my partner. It’s what we do, right?”
“Yeah, totally.”
Mickey thought Duncan looked oddly sad for a second, but he wasn’t sure why. He turned his attention to his grandfather, helping him out of the car. “Come on, Pops.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m comin’.” Pops was weak, and he was shaking as soon as he stood up. “Ah, shit.”
“I’ve got you.” Mickey scooped him up into his arms, figuring this would be easier than trying to help him wobble inside. “Duncan, can you get the doors?”
“Yeah, man.” Duncan walked ahead of them to hold open the door, letting them pass through before he slipped inside to head to the basement.
“This is ridiculous,” Pops complained. “Put me down, Michael. I can walk.”
“Like a drunk turtle,” Mickey griped back. “Just hang on. I’m not gonna drop you.”
“I’ll kick your butt if you do!”
Pops was light, bordering on frail, and Mickey held him a little closer. For the first time in his life, Mickey felt a ping of regret for his chosen profession. Not because he was ashamed of the things he did, but it was the knowledge that it had put the most important person in his life in danger.
