Page 29 of Faded Rhythm

Julian

Here I go running away again.

It’s for a good reason this time, though, so I leave the girls at the table with powdered sugar on their lips and sunlight on their faces.

I’m looking for two men dressed in black. They were lingering near the arcade games, eyes tracking us. I clocked their posture, the way they communicated with each other without speaking, and the subtle taps on the side of their legs.

I loop around the far edge of the fair, weaving between booths and carts, keeping my eyes peeled and my head low. There’s a cluster of rides near the back—a rusted Tilt-a-Whirl and a haunted house. I duck behind the generator trailer, staying low and tight.

I wait.

Then I see one of them. He moves past the haunted house, scanning the crowd, looking for me. His eyes flicker back toward the benches and land on the girls.

Wrong move.

I sneak up behind him and press the barrel of my gun to his skull. “Keep walking.”

He stiffens, then takes a step forward. I guide him around the corner behind a tent, away from prying eyes. The shadow the tent makes swallows us whole.

“You watching us?” I say, low and even.

“Yeah.”

“Who sent you?”

The man chuckles. “You know damn well you ain’t gon’ pull he trigger. It’s broad daylight. Kids everywhere. Be for real.”

I let him finish, then drive the butt of the gun into the soft spot at the base of his neck.

He crumples like a piece of paper. I grab him under the arms and drag him deeper behind the tent and out of view. My pulse is steady. My anger’s blazing hot.

I crouch down low beside him, cocking my head, listening.

This part always takes me back.

Heat. Bugs. Sweat. Waiting in dead silence for an insurgent convoy that might not even exist. Flies. Fear. The way time moves differently when you’re not sure you’re going to survive the next five minutes.

Then—footsteps.

Measured and soft, coming around the bend.

On instinct, I move fast.

My gun is pressed to his temple, pinning him in place.

He stiffens, just like his partner. “Okay,” he breathes, putting his hands up. “Just relax.”

“Fuck you.” I dig the gun further into his skin. “You’re gonna answer whatever I ask you, and you won’t argue. If that goes well, I’ll let you keep your teeth.”

“I don’t know shit,” he grits.

I blow out a breath. “See, now you’re pissing me off.”

“Somebody sent me here.”

“Who?”

He hesitates. “I don’t know his name.”

I squeeze the trigger.

The click startles the man so much, he starts trembling.

“Now, let’s try this again,” I say, low and menacing. “Who the fuck sent you here? I promise, you won’t hear the next one.”

“Okay. Okay. Dime.”

I keep my poker face on, but inside, I’m reeling.

Something isn’t adding up.

“Why?”

“You gotta ask him ,” the man says. “I was told to watch and report back. That’s it.”

I hit him, too. Not as hard as the first one, but he goes down easy. I drag him over to his partner and cover them with a tarp before I jog back inside, adrenaline coursing through me like water.

The second Sable sees my face, she stands. “Julian?”

“We’re leaving,” I say.

The girls groan in unison.

“But we didn’t do the ferris wheel yet!”

“And we were gonna get snow cones!”

Sable eyes me, then turns to the girls.

“Pack it up,” she says. “It’s time to go.”

They whine for about ten seconds before she gives them The Look. They reluctantly gather their plates and head over to bin to dispose of them.

“What happened?” Sable asks me.

“Not here. Let’s go.”

She nods.

As we move back toward the car, I keep my hand close to my gun and my eyes on the crowd. The music sounds louder now. The carnival lights seem brighter.

I don’t relax until we’re on the road, but I’m not at ease. Something about this is off, and I need to figure it out quick.