Deadshot faked being offended. “I’ll have you know I can keep a tune pretty well.”
“Prove it,” he challenged, still laughing.
If it were anybody else, Deadshot would have straight up refused, but it was the kid, and for some reason, Deadshot wanted to make him happy.
“Go on then,” the kid added.
Deadshot cleared his throat and started singing. He didn’t know many songs, but a few had found a home in his head. This particular song was his favorite. His mother had always sung it to him as a kid.
The kid went silent for a few seconds before he started waving his hands around frantically. “Stop, stop, please. You’re hurting my ears.”
Deadshot knew he couldn’t sing, and he was perfectly okay with that. A person couldn’t be good at everything. He kept singing, louder and louder. Usually, he wouldn’t have condoned making such a noise, but he could see miles in all directions, and there was nothing. They were completely alone.
Deadshot finished the song, belting out the last note and causing the kid to tremble with laughter.
“That was horrible,” the kid complained. “Please don’t ever sing again.”
“Do you really think it’s a good idea to insult me when you need me most?” Deadshot asked, trying to act serious but failing miserably.
“Your singing might kill me before the desert does.”
Deadshot would have been offended if it weren’t true. “I’ll make you a deal,” he offered playfully. “I won’t sing as long as you agree to tell me a story.”
“What do you want to hear?”
“Anything,” Deadshot replied honestly. “Tell me about your family.”
The kid’s face lit up. “You really want to hear about them?”
“Of course.” Deadshot was actually curious about what the kid’s life was like before the raid. The kid had told him a lot of things, but Deadshot wanted to hear the more fun stuff. The things that really mattered. He wanted to hear what it felt like to have a family. “And anyway, it can only be better than my singing.”
The kid started telling a story about his mother and sister. It wasn’t all that interesting, but Deadshot could hear the love in his voice. He sounded so happy to be talking about them. A warm feeling crept into Deadshot’s chest, and along with it came a longing he had never felt before. Deadshot had never cared about being alone or not having a family because the last time he had a real one was when he was eight years old.
Many people would argue and say that he did have a family growing up, and they would probably be right, but despite being loved and taken care of, Deadshot had felt like an intruder. He had lived with his aunt and uncle and played with his nieces and nephews, but they weren’t his like his mother, father, andbrother had been. His anger had consumed him for a long time, and as a child, that wasn’t easy to cope with.
Training to become a bounty hunter was what had gotten Deadshot through his childhood. He had turned his anger into determination to become the best. He had already been a great shot, and his training had only made him better.
Since the moment he left his aunt and uncle’s house, he had been alone. He worked alone, traveled alone, and lived alone. He had never stayed in the same place long enough to settle down, and he had never felt the need to do that until he retired. Even after he had retired, he was happy to live alone, but now, the kid had awakened something in him that he thought he would never feel. He was longing for a family he would never have.
Chapter 35
It had been days, and they were still searching for Quincy. So far, Deadshot had managed to keep track of where they were and where they were going. Luckily, he had always had an extraordinary sense of direction. Unfortunately, a sense of direction didn’t help when it came to finding water when all the riverbanks were dry.
They had come across a rock formation with a small puddle of water. It had been just enough to quench their thirst and fill their canteens, but since then, they simply hadn’t found any more water, and Deadshot was starting to get worried. Of course, he didn’t share his concern with the kid, who was on the verge of breaking down. He had never gone without food or water, and it was a huge adjustment for him.
“We’ll find some soon,” Deadshot assured him. “Just try to relax. The more worked up you get, the quicker dehydration will set in.”
“I’ll just shut my mouth,” the kid mumbled.
Deadshot didn’t reply. He knew the kid wasn’t angry at him. The kid was struggling and taking his frustrations out on Deadshot. He could deal with that. What he couldn’t deal with was letting the kid down. He needed to find water, and fast.
It was still early in the day, and the sun was already beating down on them. The days were just getting hotter, and if they didn’t find water, they were in real trouble. Even Deadshot, despite knowing how to survive in most environments, couldn’t survive without water.
They kept heading south. Deadshot had made his way through the desert before and was pretty sure that they were close to where he had previously found water. It all looked the same, though, just sand, stone, and the occasional shrub or tree. Even the plants looked weary. The desert was in desperate need of some rain. The problem with that was that when it came to the desert, it didn’t just rain; it stormed, and that came with a whole different set of problems.
“Are you sure this is where you found water before?” the kid asked. His voice was rough, and he sounded exhausted.
“Yes, positive,” Deadshot replied, hoping that he was right.
