Passiontide, pt 1.

“Why the fuck did you bring him here?” Steve Hall asked, furious.

“Look at me, Rev,” I said. “Where else would I take him?”

We were in his office. There were boxes in large piles all around and behind his desk. Each box had, in large, hand written red letters, the word “ReNcarn8" written on the side. When I came in, he had stood up and thrown his chair back with such force, he’d almost knocked a stack of these boxes over. Now he was leaning over the desk and his face was red with anger. I had other things to think about. I took a rag from the corner of the office and tied it around my upper arm. I pulled it tight, the knife wound was deep. It would heal quickly, but that wouldn’t matter if I lost too much blood.

“I don’t rightly give a fuck, Tucker,” Steve screamed. “Anywhere but here.”

“Steve, c’mon. I don’t have anywhere else to go. You know that. Can you please just trust me?”

“And what if they come looking for him?” Steve sat down. He was still angry, although a little defeated. What had happened, had happened.

“They won’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because we don’t exist, Rev. The ones that can even remember us are sure we’re dead. They don’t have protocols for this situation.”

Follow the link, people.