(Reverence 4, 59 / 5:29PM)

  The four of them marched.

  Their boots silently squished the mud beneath their soles, not a whimper nor a groan escaped from their throats. The sun shining, yet their eyes were down, the man in the center continued to stare deep into the northern horizon of where he marched.

  Next to him, a woman with dark-complected skin remained silent like a mouse, while the man in back balled his fists near his thighs. The silence was as loud as a jet engine, with only the sounds of mosquitos, mud squishing, slow breathing, and more mud squishing trickling the area in which they marched.

  Until the brown dot that Christian had his eyes on soon began to turn into reality.

  (Christian’s thoughts) Van…

  Unable to think out a simple sentence, Christian had his hands carry a colding teen boy that drew ever slowing breaths. Red liquid soaking the entirety of the boy’s lower half of his body, Christian’s own hands soon began to warm from the blood that dug deep into his skin.

  But he ceased his march.

  Like seeing a group of hyenas on the prowl, a group of tuxedo-wearing agents came out of the back of the van, all wielding revolvers and pistols etched in chrome. Most of them were wearing sunglasses and fedoras, their dress shoes were ruined by the muddy soil that splattered the edges of their soles.

  (Christian) There’s never a break … there’s never a goddamn break…

  Instead of clenching his teeth, gripping his hold on the dying Chris, or even straining his eyes red…

  Christian pushed down his eyes while letting his eyelids darken, encompassing them in a darkness that even the sun couldn’t break through. His fingers loosening around Chris’s clothing, he didn’t turn to either Pacifica or Luke, as he continued to stare at the group of agents circling the van.

  Tapping his right foot on the muddy soil, the more pebbles of mud splashed onto the dark green grass.

  (Christian’s thoughts) Just what can I do? I can’t plan or think strategically. I even can’t—

  Luke placed himself in front of both Christian and Pacifica. His right hair bang covering the right side of his face, Pacifica couldn’t catch a glimpse of his face. But Christian could.

  Glancing at Luke, both of his eyes were the same as his, with his lower eyelids encompassed in dark eyebags that circled even his top lids. His hands were inside of his pockets, he lifted his head, his hands trembling in the inside of his pockets.

  (Luke) I’m going to distract them in any way I can. It’ll give you guys time to get in the van.

  Both Christian and Pacifica cast their eyes down on the ground, their eyes gazing at the grass bloated with water. Clenching down on his teeth, Christian rubbed his jaw right and left as he felt as if someone was pushing down on his head.

  But slowly nudging his head, his pupils were raised to the edge of his upper eyelids, as he finally stared at the man with light-brown hair. Finally tightening his hold on Chris, whose life finally started to fade evermore, gave him a stiff nod.

  (Christian) Don’t get killed…

  (Luke) I won’t.

  A soft hand softly gripped in between his forearm and main arm. Its fingers tried to sink deep into the leather of his jacket, but it was unable to as its strength wasn’t pungent enough to strike hard. Instead, it began to shake.

  (Pacifica) Please don’t die … please don’t… please …

  Slowly, Luke hovered his hand over Pacifica’s, tranquilly grabbing it to place it back in her original resting position. Trying to lift a small smile, but his eyes didn’t match with his lips, making it seem as if he was crazy.

  Yet his body wasn’t. Both of his trembling feet stopped, and his whole body straightened out while spreading both of his feet out.

  As he remembered, two different people told him the same thing. One woman who cared for him since birth, and one woman who took care of him through his teen years. Remembering those two different lines, both had the same meaning in the end…

  (Mary in Luke’s thoughts) Live for me!

  (Gwen in Luke’s thoughts) Whatever you do, don’t die on me.

  Without looking at Pacifica, without looking at Christian, or the breathless Chris, he scrunched up both of his hands as he maintained his stare at the agents.

  (Luke’s thoughts) I already have two women telling me that. So…

  (Luke) You should probably tell that to someone else, Stan would appreciate that more.

  Using the tip of his toes, he pushed his entire body into a sprinting motion that rivaled that of Luna. His hands hovering over his holsters, he soon drew out two of his uzis, one in each hand as the air around him splashed relentlessly onto his sweatied face.

  His fingers were on the sides of the guns, his skin tainted the metal with his sweat, drawing air into his nostrils before drawing out his own with his mouth. Raising his right hand in the air, the barrel of the uzi aimed straight up at the blue sky.

  Moving his finger to the trigger, he shot at heaven above one time.

  The gunshot reverberated in the air, and the group of agents all turned to look at the running man with light-brown hair, his hands carrying two weapons that caused them to take a step back. Aiming their barrels already at the sinner, the man in the middle had his finger dead on the mechanism.

  (Group Leader) Fire!

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  In the last second, Luke turned his body to the left, avoiding the single shot burst from the group leader’s revolver. Pushing his somewhat tired body into the dense area of thick shrubs and mango trees, even the sunlight couldn’t shine down onto the wannabe tropical forest.

  Then came a mist of bullets.

  Most of the bullets were just pistol or revolver cartridges, some of them almost struck near the edges of his feet. His entire soul trembling from the reverb service bell that rang up to his brain and skull, he leaped to the left and right before finally entering the thick area of just trees and shrubs.

  Which caused the group of agents to halt their firing.

  (Group Leader) Follow him!

  Their dress shoes clamping down onto the watery soil beneath their feet, they had their barrels aimed at the thick shrubs that Luke had escaped to. Stopping near the halfway point between the van they guarded and the forest that Luke entered, the group leader grit every ounce of his enamels.

  (Group Leader) That damn sinner! What good is it that he enters into that thick patch of shrub?!

  Holstering his revolver into his left hip, he clapped his hands twice, causing the four of his comrades to jump up. Clearing his throat, clicking his tongue, and inhaling an influx of air into his empty air sacs, he turned to the group that followed him like an older brother.

  (Group Leader) We should let Briggs know that Luke escaped. That way we can anticipate the option that he might come back— ... what the fuck …?

  His eyes strained red by watching the brown van roaring its engine to life, with the person in the driver seat unable to be described as their eyes couldn’t see through their sunglasses. Almost as if their style of looking cool backfired, the group leader hunched his head and back forward, balling his fists sharply.

  Steaming blowing out of his moistened nostrils, he began sprinting to the brown van.

  (Group Leader) G-Get that van!

  No time to stall, the van’s wheels scraped off whatever mud sank deep into its rubber tires, splattering in every direction with the muddy soil. Setting off to the North, it left the running agents to continue running until they stopped at the original spot where the van left.

  Seeing mud and dust fog up the area, it left a trail that the evening sun-glazed on. A comedy painting of the five agents all deadpan staring at the moving van that they were tasked with guarding…

  The group leader threw his revolver down to the ground, using all the strength of his upper body to splash the mud … onto his face.

  (Group Leader) Argh!

  Stomping up and down like a little kid, the bottom heels of his feet splashed and splattered mud onto his agent's shoes and pants. Despite looking to be in his late 20s, wearing sunglasses, and wearing the typical agent uniform, it seemed off-putting at the very least.

  (Agent #1) Uh … what now?

  (Group Leader) … We’ve been fooled…

  They all turned to look at the dense area full of shrubs and mango trees that not even the sun couldn’t penetrate.

  The group leader began to tap his foot repeatedly, with the tip of his dress shoe clinking onto the metal of the gun. Clenching both of his fists harshly, he swept in so much air into his lungs that his chest swelled up like a hydrogen balloon.

  Kneeling on the ground, he picked up his gun, gripping the handle as his finger was already dead placed on the trigger. Raising it in the air, a chunk of mud drooped down onto his face … but he ignored it.

  (Group Leader) Let’s get that son of a bitch!

  (Agents #1, #2, #3, #4) YEAH!!

  The four of them following the leader, all wielded their revolvers and pistols in their respective primary hands, having them high up in the air. Running straight into the dense area of forests and shrubs that drew out a faint trickle of sweat from their temples, they continued to push forward.

  ______________________________________________________________________________

  (Reverence 4, 59 / 9:11PM)

  Four hours later.

  Night has settled on the Tyche wetlands, the clouds from above already blocking the moonlight from above. Thunder howling in the night, lightning became the only source of light for the lone man who walked through the prickly shrubs that pinched his legs and arms.

  Luke sluggishly walked through the muddy waters of the wetlands, mosquitoes, and cicadas buzzing his ears while tilting his head up. His hands drooped down to his sides, his feet and boots were neck deep in water brown water, the smell of rotten fish molesting his throat and airways.

  Despite his throat parched, and his stomach growling, it was nothing compared to six years ago.

  (Luke’s thoughts) I haven’t had dinner or lunch at all… but better than having no dinner or lunch for a solid week…

  Remembering the hellish walk to Kepputha, the soles of his feet began to slightly blister by just remembering the thousand steps he crossed. His stomach growled, his throat mummified and dried despite the air wet enough to moisten his vocals, the odor that continued to linger on him…

  Began to double.

  Because after all, he hadn’t got a proper shower at all ever since he left to raid the ranch, and the everlasting effect after effect led him to the present. Luckily for him, the water that soaked his feet and boots wasn’t bone-chilling, but…

  (Luke’s thoughts) Unlike that walk, it wasn’t this humid and muggy.

  Stepping out of the water, he began to walk uphill to an area filled with bushes littered with red and blue berries. Its color shone despite thunder crackling the night above, Luke stopped as he stared at the fruit.

  Closing his eyes, he activated his blessing. Letting his entire body loosen like a child letting go of a toy they wanted to stop lying, he spread both of his feet apart before opening his eyes.

  (Luke’s thoughts) But unlike that walk, I’m not as naive as before.

  Ignoring the shining red and blue fruit that shone its poisonous color, Luke kept his distance from the berries, as the smell of the water made him feel like an unwashed dog. The smell pushed up his face, his nostrils wrinkled while he kicked off batches of balled-up mud in front of him.

  Keeping his hands inside his pockets, his eyes caught a glimpse of two white large eggs underneath a mango tree.

  Scanning the egg, Luke licked his lips, his tongue leaving behind saliva that glistened his lips. Despite his stomach growling hard, he didn’t let his feet carry him forward, as a faint service bell gently swept the innards of his soul.

  (Luke’s thoughts) Chickens…

  Dozens of yellow eyes, slanted and shaped like almonds, all stared at Luke through a thick bush. The bush being in the back of the pair of eggs, it was like a trap for the naive, the natural-selected, or in Luke’s case…

  (Luke’s thoughts) Thank god that I’m not twelve.

  Ignoring the staring eyes of the wild chickens that protected their eggs, Luke continued to push his feet forward North, his left leg limping and hovering slightly off the ground. The tip of his boots nestled against the dark green blades of grass, he ignored anything that either buzzed, swarmed, or clung to him.

  But then his feet began to burn.

  As if his boots caught on fire, he glanced down to see them normal and fine, but the burning sensation on his feet worsened. Hissing with just his teeth, he shut his eyes as he walked faster through the wetlands, swaying away patches of leaves and branches in his way.

  (Luke’s thoughts) Why do my feet burn so bad!? Does the water have something in it that I don’t know?!

  His feet began to wobble.

  Both of his knees were on the verge of buckling, he began to let the soles of his feet blush more blisters by running. Without looking back, he swayed his hands and arms back and forth like a sluggish snail, leading him to notice an open shrub just beyond the dense wetland wannabe forest.

  Putting his right shoulder forward, he had a tackling stance, the shrubs being the enemy in this case. Flying out of the dense wannabe forest, his face fell first into water, water that was…

  Shallow, less than a foot tall.

  Bringing his head up, he coughed and gagged out any water that snuck into his nostrils and mouth, his gag reflux causing him to put both of his hands onto his stomach. Nothing went out of his mouth, only droplets of water dripping off from his lips.

  (Luke’s thoughts) My feet … they stopped burning…

  Instead, his feet went numb.

  His shins, feet, and knees were all sucked into the shallow water, he looked up to the never-ending crackling thunder that roared the night. Bright blue lightning accompanying the storm, he looked up to the clouds that blocked heaven above.

  Crashing into the water, he spread his arms and legs apart, as the water couldn’t reach up to his nose or eyes. Hearing the sluggish water silence his ears, he looked up to the angry sky that gave him a slight break.

  Before his eyelids began to close shut.

  (Luke’s thoughts) I wonder … I just wonder…

  The mosquitoes and cicadas ceased their usual songs, Luke’s entire body finally let the warm body of water freeze every ounce of muscle. His black leather jacket, white shirt, black pants, and boots all filled to the brim with sluggish water, Luke’s eyes finally succumbed to the exhaustion that accumulated for over 12 hours.

  (Luke’s thoughts) If there’s anyone other than Gwen able to save me now…

  His breath softened, his face directed to the booming thunder that rocked the wetlands, and a silent snore crackled in his throat.