“Too many people,” Keller says as he approaches the group. “We ain’t all gonna fit.”
Vern scoffs. “Some gratitude.”
“Vern, I feel a lot of feelings towards you, and not one of them is gratitude.”
He counts. El Cid and Schibetta, leaning against the wall, discussing something in low tones. Vern and his 6 Aryans, stood in a loose phalanx. Metzger, glaring at Keller through a criss-cross of deep gouges, barely recognizable but for his height and uniform. Guenzel next to him, glaring into the pod. Andrew Schillinger sulking at the fringes, not looking at anybody.
Torquemada, inspecting his nails.
“You change your mind?” Keller asks. He shakes his head.
“Just here for the show, baby.”
So, counting himself, 13. Like Vern promised.
Schibetta floats over.
“So how are we gonna do this?” he asks. “Strongest at the front?”
“Keller and I will take the front,” Vern says.
“You the strongest?”
“We’re taking the front,” Keller repeats firmly, fixing him with a cold stare. Schibetta doesn’t back down.
“You want to do it sloppy, that’s your business. Me, I’ve been practicing.” He grins suddenly, shark-like. “You think Pancamo’s been popping those pills voluntarily?”
“I don’t give a shit what you do with your free time. Beecher’s mine.” He can feel Vern’s eyes on his neck, ignores it. “You and Hernandez are new to the game. Take the back.”
Schibetta raises his hands in mock deference. “Like I said, your business.” He lowers them, cocks his head slightly. “Might wanna wait an hour or so though. Got some kinda special full moon tonight. Give you an extra kick.”
“How the fuck do you know what kinda moon we’re having?”
“There’s horoscopes in the newspaper.” Keller glances over at Torquemada, who shrugs. “And the little dago’s right, it does help.”
“Yeah, thanks.” He doesn’t want to wait another fucking hour. “How much?”
Torquemada taps his chin thoughtfully. “I made Miguel recite Sonnet 18 while touching himself, last full moon.” A low chuckle. “Well, most of it. Poor little darling, he was finished 10 lines in.”
“Great. Thanks for that mental image.”
“And this isn’t just any full moon. It’s a blood moon.” He sighs. “Poetic, don’t you think?”
“I say we wait,” Vern interjects. “Beecher’s not going anywhere. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right.”
“What if I say we don’t?” Keller challenges. Vern gazes at him coolly.
“Then you’ll be 9 men down.”
“9?”
“I’ll get Metzger and Andrew to hold off, too.” He doesn’t bother to clarify the other Aryans will be abstaining in this case – it goes without saying. “If you think you can do it just you, the dago, the spic, and the other little prag, then by all means.” He sweeps an arm towards the pod.
Keller stands for a minute, fuming, before making up his mind. “Fine. We wait. Now everybody move out of my way.” Vern raises an eyebrow, smirks.
“Aw. Going in for a goodnight kiss?”
“Move.”
Vern steps aside with an exaggerated flourish. “Your Highness.”
Keller moves past him, just barely avoiding brushing his shoulder. “Don’t forget to give him one from me,” Vern calls after him as he steps through the glass.
---
In the bottom bunk, Alvarez is already asleep, snoring away (Keller briefly remembers Sonnet 18, then banishes the thought irritably). Focuses on the occupant of the top bunk, who lies awake – staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.
Toby.
He’s been growing out his facial hair – looks good, Keller thinks. His eyes aren’t dead like O’Reily’s or pained like Arif’s – they’re cold, cynical. His Toby’s a fighter, just like him. Keller loves him for it.
But it does make things difficult.
“Hey, baby,” Keller whispers. “You miss me?”
Toby inhales slightly, as if he can hear. Keller knows it’s impossible, but some part of him clings to the idea that they’ve still got that unbreakable connection.
Until death do us part.
“You ain’t gotta worry,” he continues. “Not gonna be apart much longer.” He caresses Toby’s face, watching his fingers melt into Toby’s skin. He smiles. “Might be kinda mad at me, at first. But you’ll come round.”
I hope.
Toby rolls over to face Keller, closes his eyes. He sighs heavily.
“Just relax.” Keller leans in to plant an insubstantial kiss on his forehead.
“It’ll all be over soon.”