Page 152 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

A gas station is first, then as they walk past that, they come to a motel. The neon light is loud in Riley’s ears. A laundromat glows blue even when closed. Beyond it, convenience stores crouch behind chain-link fences, every sign and window burning brighter than anything Riley has ever seen. He winces, smelling things he has no names for, tasting people on the air. Frying grease, detergent, cigarettes, wet concrete, hot engines, perfume, blood. He hears televisions through walls, pipes knocking, a whiny high-pitched cry that might be from a baby. His heart backflips when he hears that, wishes he could see the baby. He’s never seen anyone younger than him. Every window contains a whole life. Hundreds of them, stacked together, spilling sound and scent into the city until this new world seems to breathe against his skin.

Riley had no idea the planet was this crowded, this alive. He finally has what he’s wanted for years. He’s in the fucking city, but for some reason, he just wants to go back.

‘Do you have a house?’

‘My home is far away, remember?’

‘Are we… going there?’

‘Sure.’

Lies. These are bad lies.

‘Zachary—’

‘You need to stop talking,’ he warns sharply, ‘and behave.’

‘Maybe we could stop somewhere.’ Riley feels every bit as stupid as he sounds, but he’s so confused, so afraid in the moment and this city… it’s alien, vastly intimidating to him, overwhelming. ‘Wait a while.’

‘No. He’s wanted you for a long time.’

Riley’s blood turns cold.

His insides squirm.

Instincts flare hard.

But they’re always crossed.

Tangled. Confused. Panic makes a mess of everything, and his body has no good ways to cope with it.

‘Who?’

Zachary drags him left, down a street that’s less noisy.

‘Mikhail is a fair man, but if you pull the psycho shit with him, he’ll just tranq you, understand?’

‘Mikhail? Is th-that my father?’

‘No. Just stay quiet and behave.’

There’s a black van up ahead, two men leaning against it, waiting.

Zachary calls out to them in a language Riley doesn’t speak.

One tosses a cigarette and spits, snapping irritably at Zachary. Riley slows. Zachary pulls him, muttering more warnings, but Riley’s inner ears are screaming with a high-pitched frequency that makes him nauseous. He turns on the spot, suddenly dizzy.

This is wrong. Bad. Bad.

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Somewhere safe.’

Lie.

It’s a lie.

Riley pulls free, staring with wide eyes.