“We’re former mafiosos. Stealing drugs and breaking and entering should be second nature to us by now.”
“And clothes? We can’t just wear these same blood-soaked suits forever.”
Matt shrugs. “I’m sure they have a ShopMart there.”
I shouldn’t laugh. It’s not funny.
So why can’t I help myself?
Laughter echoes in the woods as I double over from the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Here we are, formerly two of the mostpowerful men in the city, reduced to petty thievery and other misdemeanors to survive.
“What’s so funny?”
I shake my head, unable to speak or catch my breath from the laughter. My hand moves to grip my side as a painful stitch develops there. Matt rubs my shoulder sympathetically, but I catch his smirk in the edge of my vision. He made that crack on purpose.
Finally, I stop long enough to get a few words out.
“So … ShopMart first? I think we’ll need to look less like excommunicated mafiosos and more like average Joes.”
A twinkle lights up in his sapphire eyes. “There’s that. Also, ShopMart is less likely to notice missing bandages and such. We can patch ourselves up while I figure out the best way to break into the pharmacy and get us good antibiotics.”
“You think a late-night B and E is the answer?”
“Definitely. There are too many witnesses and employees at the pharmacy during the day. Security’s too tight then.”
“Have you ever been to a pharmacy on your own? Like, to shop or pick up a prescription?”
Matt stares blankly at me. “What do you mean?”
I stop and lean against a tree, crossing my arms over my chest. “Shopping. In a store. Have you ever done it?”
He trips on a root, stumbling several yards before catching his footing. “I—I mean …”
“Do you even know how to conduct a legal transaction? Once we obtain some cash, that is, we’ll have to shop for what we need like regular citizens.”
I watch as his shoulders slump, then start shaking. Soon, Matt’s laughing even harder than I just was. “I’m glad I have you with me, Aron. The notion of shopping for groceries never occurred to me. Literally did not cross my mind.”
“I was just kidding. I thought you and Tito bought groceries for the manor to keep it—How did you put it?—in stock.”
Matt wipes a tear from the corner of his eye with his palm. “We … might have stolen what we needed from the Syndicate supply rooms.”
I stifle a snort. “What?”
“Dad and I … We never actually went to a store or bought the supplies.”
“You’re impossible.”
A twig snaps in the distance, and we both freeze.
“Where?” Matt whispers. I pause and focus on the sounds around us, listening for more than just that one twig, for any sounds of renewed pursuit.
“Sounds like about a mile back.”
Matt nods. “Good. Plenty of time to reach the river and cross it before they catch up, then.”
We move out, taking care where we step to avoid making the same mistake our pursuers did. By the time we wade across the stream—I’ll have to give Matt a lesson on the difference someday—the sounds behind us have faded.
We reach the town Matt mentioned a couple of hours later, filthy and exhausted. It’s not yet dawn, so Matt and I break into the ShopMart and run a quick snatch-and-grab of the essentials. Food for the day. Clothing. Bandages. We clean out their stock of antiseptic, though since they’re not a pharmacy, we’ll have to wait another day to get antibiotics.
