The warehouse was on the opposite side of the city. It was one amongst many, with no distinguishing features to its drab cinder block appearance. They ordered Derik to bring the van in through the side alley. He thought it a dumb idea — there was no way it would fit — but he kept silent, seeing as misspeaking could spell his doom. The sun still set, but it was dark as night. Little light got into the alleyway, and the van was roofed. The leader Zolin was seated in shotgun, humming a rock tune. He seemed nice enough but there was no telling when he could snap. No sane man would follow that demon willingly. Derik kept his eyes on the road. If they did this right, he could still meet Ema by seven. No one had to know about her.

  “Stop here,” Pisk hissed from the back. Derik slammed the break. The van jolted to a stop. Pisk opened the trunk and crawled out through it. “I’m gonna chat it up with Monova. Wait here.”

  He left, coughing from the exhaust as he receded into darkness. Derik looked at the dashboard clock. 6:40. Ten minutes. He could still make it to order early if this job went quick. Then again, going straight to Ema after this may not have been a good idea since these men could trail him. But did that even matter? They already knew where he lived.

  Derik sighed. It was a waiting game now. He should not focus on what he couldn’t change. Closing his eyes, Derik imagined himself working in his metal shop. The rhythmic clangs of metal. The warm satisfaction of watching something he designed being melded into place. Yet Terran was there. The demon loomed over him, holding chains.

  “You okay?” Zolin asked. His tone was gentle and warm. His eyes were soft. It seemed his concern was genuine.

  “What,” Derik said. “Oh, uhm, yeah.” His leg bounced. Each bounce flared his bad ankle, which had been doing fine until now. Derik could not stop the twitching, even if the leg aches as it bounced up and down. It was already 6:46. Just what was taking Pisk so long? He said he was talking with someone. Hopefully it was just actual regular talking, and not code for something horrible… whatever that would be. Torture, maybe murder. These were a demon’s followers. He wouldn’t put it past them.

  “Ya keep lookin’ at the time.” Zolin said. “You have somewhere to be?”

  “I’m meeting my girlfriend after.” Derik covered his mouth before he could blab further. Zolin had been so nonchalant in speaking, that Derik had briefly forgotten about this horrible situation. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! Zolin knew about Ema. The entire Order now had Terran’s same leverage. They could drag her into this now. If Zolin knew that, he hid it well behind a casual smile. “She why you here?”

  “Yes,” Derik said. It was the truth, even if it wasn’t for the reason Zolin thought.

  “I’m here for my sons,” Zolin said. He leaned back in his seat, and groaned. “Nice boys. Twins. Ten each. Shame they gotta live in a one-room apartment with twelve others. But this revolution’s gonna change all that. Soon, we’ll all have our own space. They can go to school. It’ll be nice.”

  Derik thought of his apartment, and all the space he had. Two stories. Bathroom and bedroom. All for one. Now he was uncomfortable for a different reason. Zolin continued, “I suppose that’s why we’re all doing this, for others. Yeah, this is a revolution for others. For the people. Sounds a lot better than an order.”

  “Yeah, Revolt of the People. I’ll run it through our next meeting.” Derik’s nerves must have been showing because Zolin frowned. “Revolt too strong? I mean, that’s what it is. Things can’t keep going like they are, you know?”

  Maybe so, but that doesn’t justify terrorism. Derik wanted to say this, but didn’t. He wouldn’t dare. He glanced back to the darkened haze where Pisk had yet to return from. “What about him?”

  “Pisk?” Zolin asked. He chuckled. “Guy’s a character all right.”

  “Yeah,” Derik said, looking down. “You could say that…”

  “Don’t be too harsh on him,” Zolin said, voice now stern. “The kid’s got his issues, don’t get me wrong. But that ain’t his fault. It’s ‘cause of where he was raised.” He said that as if it let Pisk off the hook for everything. As if his talk on violence and guns (which Derik had heard much about) was merely that. Derik had no idea what to think. Perhaps changing subjects was best.

  “I don’t understand,” Derik said. “I mean, you fought in the war.” It wasn’t an assumption. Zolin looked to be in his early fifties, and was decently healthy for his age. Of course he fought in the war.

  “Aye.”

  “Then you are getting stimulus checks, right?”

  “That’s the theory,” Zolin said. “But those greedy pigs wouldn’t give ‘em up. And believe me, I fought. More ways than one. I was owed a huge sum after serving in a scout balloon during Bloody Seas. I survived, even when all ‘em Blackwells died. Yet did I get my money? Course not. Kareva got it. ‘Cause grieving is harder when ya can cry into your damn money stacks.” He clenched his fist, and his hair stood on end. The man seemed poised to hit something when…

  “Okay, we’re ready.” Pisk called from the back. Zolin opened the side door. The door scraped the brick wall, so the portly man had to awkwardly slither out. If Derik weren’t shaking like mad, he may have found some escape in this funny sight.

  Both Pisk and Zolin faded from view. It was 6:52. So much for entering early to order dinner for Ema. But it was okay. Diners served food fast. They served shakes too. He’d show at seven, then they could have their quick dinner date. Pisk and Zolin returned with an oil drum, sloshing with liquid. It was 6:53. They came back with another. It was 6:54. Five drums were loaded in total. It was now 6:58.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Zolin sat back in the shotgun. Pisk sat in the back, lounging against an oil drum. Not the smartest move, seeing as the contents could easily spill on him if they hit a big enough bump. A twisted part of Derik silently hoped for that. “Got the powder stuff,” Zolin said. “Now we just need to drop it off by the sewer entrance, then return the car to the lot.”

  Derik said, “This isn’t your car?”

  “‘Course not,” Pisk yelled from the back. “If we were loaded, we wouldn’t be doin’ this.”

  Derik nodded. That was obvious. Hopefully it was just from a rental. Maybe it was. The car had just been by a lot, and Zolin had the keys on him. Still, there was doubt. But it had better be a rental, by the gods. The last thing Derik needed was to become an associate in another crime. He didn’t even care about that, strange as it was to admit. Right now, he wanted to reach Ema. “How long ‘til we’re done?”

  “Half an hour,” Zolin said. “But we can take up the rest if you gotta meet your girl. How about we drop you off?”

  “Oooohhh,” Pisk said. “Fun. What are you lovebirds doing?”

  “Nothing,” Derik said. “Nothing. I'll finish this up first.” He cursed himself. Why did he say that? Was he that scared of speaking out? They

  “You sure?” Zolin asked. “It ain’t a big deal. The worst part’s done now. We have no need for a getaway driver anymore.” Getaway driver. The word stung Derik, emphasizing his role in all this. He truly was a criminal.

  “Okay,” Derik said. He then breathed deeply, gripping his hands about the wheel. He ignored the time as he slowly built up his courage. This next statement was risky, but it needed saying. He had to get to the date. “Can I drop myself off then?”

  “Aye,” Zolin said. “I don’t see a problem with it.”

  They drove out of the darkened alleyway, and towards the decrepit streets of the surrounding neighborhood. Zolin turned on the radio. The radio version of Smique and Mirrors played, though Derik didn’t pay much heed to it. The instant they were on the brighter side of town, Derik pulled over. “Why are you stopping here?” Pisk asked. “There ain’t a restaurant anywhere near here!”

  “Man’s got his reasons,” Zolin said, dismissing his concern with a wave of his hand. He got out and spoke as he rounded the car. “Don’t harp on him for it. We’ll see you at the next meeting.”

  “Uh, yeah,” Derik said. The next meeting. That would loom over him the entire night. Try as he might, he couldn’t escape the Order. Not fully anyhow. No matter what, Terran would have his way. Because that’s what this has been about. Derik hadn’t been needed there. Terran just wanted him to suffer…

  Derik waved the two off. They waved back, before speeding off into the distance. And that was it. Derik let out a long sigh of relief. The job was done, and not once had they threatened him. Zolin was nice. Even Pisk had seemed… strangely normal. Though that changed little. These people were terrorists. They’re plans would kill people. Derik knew this. He could not grow sympathetic.

  A nearby clock showed the time. It was 7:15! The brief relief evaporated. Breaking into a sprint, Derik clenched his fists to hide his fear. He’d be there late. No way could they have dinner. Maybe coffee. But she’d be mad. Oh so mad. He’d need to act well. No, he’d need to be perfect. And he had to be there quick!

  Derik turned the corner into a busy street filled with workers rushing home from work. The blacksmith fought his way through the crowd, pushing people aside. He ran across the street. A honking car nearly crashed into him but Derik ignored that too as he dove into another crowd. Nothing mattered now. Not even his own safety. All that mattered was getting there soon. Terran wouldn’t ruin his day. His or Ema’s.

  At last he came upon the diner. It was packed with people. Dayton’s greatest hits blared from the jukebox. People were dancing, twirling about, yet Ema was nowhere to be seen amongst these faces. Derik pushed his way through, which was easy due to his broad physique. He checked every table. But nothing…

  It was 7:19. She should have been here. A defeated Derik meandered over to a waitress. “Excuse me, miss?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m supposed to meet someone,” Derik said, stepping closer. “She’s about a foot shorter than me. Blonde hair. Green eyes. Most pretty face you’ve ever seen. But I can’t see her anywhere. Do you know if you have seated her?”

  The waitress scratched her chin with her pen. “Think I did see someone like that, now that you mention it. Nice gal. Just missed her. Walked out about two minutes ago. Poor dear. Were you supposed to meet her?”.

  There was malice in the waitress’ voice. Ema had been hurt because of him. He’d ditched her to do criminal acts. Derik mumbeled a thank you, then made his way outside. He tried to spot Ema amongst the nearby people, but there was no one in the sea of cars and motorcycles. Her news building was nearby, but showing there would make things worse. She wouldn’t want this drama brought into work.

  So Derik went home. The downpour of smoke made him cough. He wheezed due to his great effort running, and only now did his legs ache under their prior strain. But these pains were nothing compared to the guilt weighing him down. Ema’s night had been ruined. Derik had aided Terran in a terrible plot. Worse yet, it didn’t have to be this way. If he had asked Zolin, he may have been able to get off. The thought never even crossed his mind. Fear had kept Derik in check. But asking would have worked. Zolin had let him off early, and he’d get his much needed reprieve. Things would only go worse from here, he knew. Derik would never be done. More sacrifices would be demanded.

  How long until he had gone too far? Or had he crossed that point already? Derik didn’t know. Nothing seemed certain, except for one thing. Even from miles away, that demon dominated over his life. And he would still dominate, for as long as Derik let him. There was nothing he could do, lest he wished to risk it all. But Derik wasn’t that kind of person. And Terran would never be like Zolin. There may be some small measures he could take,

  Unless…there may be something. Something small, but if given time, it could prove beneficial. If he played his cards right, that horrible beast would never know. Yet Derik knew he wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t, for the sake of all he held dear.

  Despite everything, Derik remained unsure.