66—And in the end

 

Demetre waited for Lance at the bottom of the stairs, his tall black shape a full head above the sea of blue uniforms and flashing lights.

 Like a parade, Lance thought. A welcome home celebration with no heros to honor. Only dirty-faced men lying face down in a room of death, fighting the war over and over again in their heads and hearts, this side of the cosmic door, and maybe on the other side as well, killing insanely for petty kingdoms and abuses of love.

 Lance felt sick and retched, nothing coming up from his stomach but air. He had eaten nothing in what seemed like days.

 "Leave him to me," Demetre said, pushing the approaching cops away. His arm fell around Lance's shoulder. "Is he dead?"

 Lance nodded.

 Demetre's scarred face tightened with a twinge of pain. "I suppose it had to end like this," he said, looking up at the house. "Nothing could tame him, and Jail would have killed him, too, only more slowly."

 Lance shuddered. "So what happens now?"

 The cop looked down at Lance. "Happens?"

 "To me and my old lady?"

 "She's here?"

 Lance pointed towards the garage. "She's hiding in the van."

 Demetre's gaze seemed to focus on the open door for the first time, the bumper of the psychedelic VW just visible in the flashes of police light.

 "Well, boy," he said softly. "I don't think anybody would look twice if you hopped in that van and rode out of here."

 Lance glanced up at the cop. "You're not going to arrest me?"

 "For what?"

 "You know."

 "Ah," the cop said with a smile. "In all this, you think a few thousand dollars is a big deal? Get out of here, boy. Get out of this town and don't look back."

 The man shoved Lance towards the garage, and stood with arms folded as Lance gathered Sarah up and put her in. He found the spare set of keys in the glove compartment and fitted them into the ignition, his hand shaking the whole time. The engine started with a cough, but it started, and he backed out into the street.

 Sarah's cries sounded distant as she huddled among her precious possessions like a beaten dog. Lance lifted his hand in farewell to the cop as the van putted past the line of cop cars, headed towards the freeway entrance and the long road north.

 

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