What We See: An Eyes Story

Dez felt it in his bones, deep in his gut, throbbing in his head—a rising pressure, like a torrent barely dammed inside him. It told him today would be anything but ordinary. He relied on his instincts; life had made it essential. It might sound odd; most wouldn’t claim to feel something like this. Yet Dez always sensed trouble approaching—by a smell or a tingle. Today, a smell, thick in the air, made his skin crawl. The scent was distinctly sulfurous.​

When he was younger, he had assumed everyone had it. Talked about it often too, but learned over time it was a no-go. People never took it seriously and always figured he was just off. Dez had even asked Mr. Little, his father, about it once, but the man had merely shaken his head at him, not taking the matter seriously either.​

He tried to ignore the maddening sense as he often did, focusing instead on the dense woods that gave Eyeville its name. The trees stood like ancient pillars, their branches and leaves interlocking to form an unbroken barrier between road and forest. People vanished there, the place a maze without end. Eyeville itself was carved from harsh wilderness where few dared to live. Yet someone—perhaps a desperate group of settlers, too stubborn or too hopeless to choose better—had somehow claimed this spot. Others followed, and through sheer grit, built a camp, then a village, then this small, struggling town. One that seemed to survive more in spite of the difficulty than anything else.

For Dez, Eyeville was a constant annoyance. Secluded and modest, the town was also stifling. Despite the age of technology the world was in, most folks found phones and the Internet too expensive or inconvenient here. The residents were stuck in the past—the people were too unwilling to leave. And if Dez was being honest, it was a white town. Most folk here barely knew other colored folk and generally distrusted them.

That may have been the true reason Dez disliked Eyeville so much. The Dez family was one of about a half-dozen black families, compared to the dozens and dozens of white families. And while the times had supposedly changed elsewhere, Dez saw none of that here and now. Racism was alive and well, more subtle now for most, but bold and powerful here in Eyeville. Combine that with a town with seemingly nothing to do, and people who are unchanging and intolerant. And you had a cocktail for racial tension. And Dez had grown to hate it all, desperate one day to leave it all behind. To start over elsewhere, where the opportunities would surely be better.

Dez groaned as the headache and irritation worsened. He cursed himself for thinking too much with an already pounding skull.

“Yo Desmond.” A voice broke him out of his stupor, its tone a mix of concern and mockery, a contradiction that simply was the man named Hooks. He was his best friend, and by all metrics, his brother, the only family Dez had nowadays, or the only family on speaking terms.

The two made for an odd pair. Dez was a short, buzzed-cut man, and Hooks was towering with dreads tied into a neat ponytail. Dez’s face seemed to be locked into a frozen scowl, while Hooks contrasted that with a cocky smirk. Dez’s eyes were a dark brown; Hooks ′ were a light steelish color.

Even their personalities seemed to clash. Dez was a relaxed guy in general, content to do whatever and generally enjoy his time. Hooks was a schemer, someone always plotting something, chasing his next interest of the week. Dez was genuinely disliked throughout the town for his reputation and attitude. Hooks was beloved, seen as charismatic and, even by white folks, as one of the good ones. But the two agreed on a couple of vital things: the dislike of the folks of Eyeville, particularly the constraining racist. And a desperate need to leave this town and its way of life behind. “To escape to the present,” as Hooks often referred to it.

Though for Hooks, the need had seemingly intensified. Dez had noticed the man was more agitated. His energy was restless, his determination to leave stronger than ever. His attitude in general had changed. Now, his optimism was laced with impatience and agitation.

​“You being just normal weird, or is it extra weird today, brother?” Hooks interrupted.

​Dez scowled, caught again. The sense was a private secret—an oddity he alone experienced. Sharing it always brought trouble, but Hooks was the one who knew. Years together and a night of partying had made Dez admit the secret. Hooks kept it but stayed skeptical, mostly annoyed when it came up.

​“Yeah, so what if it is? Sometimes it comes in handy. It even flared that night…” Dez said. “Besides, it gives me a headache – I can’t ignore it.”

“Yeah yeah, be a real brother and thug it out.” Hooks mocked. “That feeling is just you spazzing out, my man. Ignore it. Today is going to be a great day. The new start to our lives, my Brother.”

​Hooks had been repeating that a lot lately. Dez didn’t mind, honestly. Maybe the more Hooks said it, the more likely it would be. Both men had been rolling like this for years. Two recent high school graduates, just treading water.

Dez was kicked out by his father. Hooks, a strong student, hated school. They got an apartment, scraped by. They lived, partied, and dreamed that things might someday be better. Then Hooks won the lottery.

Dez barely remembered the day; they had spent it all drinking. He was at his latest job when Hooks arrived—with a brand new car and the smuggest grin Dez had seen on the man. Hooks was suddenly rich and determined to leave, and had determined that Ritz and Dez needed to go with him. Ritz was sick, so Hooks and Dez celebrated the newfound wealth alone—a night of drinking, drugs, and wild energy that later brought them grief and a setback to their plans.

​That night, they ran into another group also partying, a mostly white one that apparently had known Ritz. Inebriated as they were, it went well at first, the two groups mixing and socializing normally. However, the leaders of the two groups, Jack and Hooks, had gotten into it, and tempers had flared into a brawl. Dez had rushed forward to defend his friend, and Jack’s friends had done the same. It had caused a massive scene and had required cops to be called to settle the matter.

​Ritz’s friend Jack wasn’t just anyone—he was the Sheriff’s son. He used his connections to clear himself and his friends, while assuring that Dez and Hooks would take the fall.

Both served a year in jail. They paid fines. Eyeville lacked long-term facilities, so they were sent elsewhere. After months served, Hooks had eventually bailed himself and Dez out.

​“Brother, if you don’t lock in.” Hooks chided, but his voice carried an undercurrent of worry. “Ever since we went downtown, you’ve been even moodier. It’s like you can’t shake some weight off. You’re acting like a female bro.” Hooks’s usual teasing held a note of concern; he clearly noticed Dez’s lingering pain and frustration since their imprisonment, and it made Hooks uneasy, too.

​“What do you expect me to do—be ecstatic to have been imprisoned? Should I be excited we’re finally out?” Dez replied, voice tight with resentment and pain. “Brother, while we sat there, I did nothing but think over my life. That damn night—” The weight of regret and self-blame pressed down on him as he spoke, mixing guilt with anger at his situation.

“Drop it already, man, I didn’t plan for that.” Hooks complained, a hint of guilt flickering in his frustration. “Besides, you mean he kept crossing your mind. Forget about what Mr. Little said, brother…”

Dez was silent, proving Hooks right, but the man had pulled a low blow to win, something Hooks was never above.

Mr. Little was his father, Dez himself being named Desmond Little, though only Hooks ever called him Desmond. Mr. Little, insisting on being called such by even Dez, his own son, was a strange and constricting man. Fitting for one of the longest residents of Eyeville. One of the few decent black men in town, he was known as the owner of a humble thrift shop and as the leader of the church choir. He was seen as a role model even among the whites. And had for most of Dez’s life insisted on creating Dez as his mirror image. Something that, as Dez had gotten older, he grew to resent.

Mr. Little was a member of the community and loved Eyeville despite its faults. But Dez despised it, and that, along with Hooks, had created a rift between father and son. It was why Dez went by such a name, refusing to go by the name his father chose for him.

​“Yes, he did,” Dez admitted with a shrug. “How crazy for a guy to think of his family when he’s rotting in jail.”

​“I feel ya, my man, I really do. But that’s what I’m saying: you’re stressed out and resentful. I know it’s because I feel the same, Brother. But we gotta keep our cool; we’ll be heading out of this shitty town soon enough…” Hooks said.

​Dez hesitantly nodded in response, anxiety tightening in his chest. The man was right; he just couldn’t shake this subtle feeling of dread, and it left him troubled and unfocused.

​After jail, things weren’t as dire as Dez had feared. Hooks bought their freedom. He found them factory jobs. And now, they could finally plan to leave Eyeville. They were out for one last night in Eyeville, however. On their way to fetch the third musketeer, Ritz.

Ritz was the third in their trio, a man who had earned both of their respect over time. He came from a large farming family within Eyeville, but was estranged from them all. Among Eyeville’s residents, his family was famous for their discrimination and open hatred of those different, but Ritz was different, even willing to stand up for them against his own blood. For “moral integrity”, his family had cut him off, leaving him alone in the city. Most young men would’ve been crushed, Dez included, if he were being real.

​Ritz, thanks to his skills, became independent, though. He got a low-paying restaurant job. He managed to get his own apartment. In his free time, he used his farming skills as a side hustle. He knew they were going out tonight, but not that Dez and Hooks planned to leave after. He certainly didn’t know they wanted him with them.

​The car lurched as Hooks cut off a small smart car just for fun. Its horn blared, but Hooks only laughed harder. Dez shook his head, but secretly smiled. Hooks loved his new car and enjoyed defying the residents of Eyeville even more…

​

Dez and Hooks rolled through a drive-thru at one of Eyeville’s few fast-food spots. Hooks impatiently tapped his leather steering wheel, glancing at the line ahead, while Dez leaned back, enjoying the wait and listening to the only local rap station. The beat of “So Be it” drummed through the speakers, entertaining Dez, and the annoyed looks from onlookers only deepened his amusement.

The newest model Mercedes-Benz, matte black with an illegally dark tint, was arguably Hooks’ most absurd purchase. In their small town, the car stuck out—as Hooks likely intended. And he loved any chance to parade it around because of that.

They had just visited Eyeville’s only worthwhile chicken joint. “Banging Clucks” was their usual haunt, open in some form since Eyeville’s founding. It was easily the most popular spot in town, drawing most of the younger crowd to eat or work; eventually, everyone came. And today it served as their meeting spot.

​“Ugh, why does Ritz even work here?” Hooks complained. He disliked Banging Clucks—truthfully, Dez noticed Hooks now disliked everything about Eyeville since returning. It was only a month ago that Hooks praised it as much as Dez. “This red building and ugly chicken mascot blow me.”

​“Most people don’t win the lotto—Ritz and I had to make do,” Dez joked before smirking. “Plus, Ritz took the job for free meals. He does love some chicken…”

​“Now that’s a real brother.” Hooks chuckled, and they both shared a small laugh before, with a small cheer from Hooks, they slid forward to the first window. Ritz sat before the window, wide-eyed, putting a smile on his face as he realized who they were.

​Ritz was an oddity—a white guy, which Dez didn’t mind, but in Eyeville, it mattered. He was a fiery ginger, tall, lanky, with Irish and German parents, an afro, and farmer’s clothes. Still, he and Hooks considered Ritz “seasoned.” “Yo, Dez, Hooks is my boy!” Ritz greeted, smiling. “Looking for a little ‘discounted’ food?”

​“No, that would be a reasonable reason to see you.” Dez snorted. “Hooks is on his usual nonsense.”

“Genius nonsense, my Brother of little faith.” Hooks chided. “Listen, Ritz, how attached are you to this job?”

​“Is this about that one thing?” Ritz asked. Dez was unable to see Hooks’ reaction, but noted Ritz stopped whatever topic he was about to discuss. His face froze before he quickly snapped it back into his usual goofy smile.

​Dez narrowed his eyes, suspecting Hooks brought up something he didn’t want Dez to hear, but pushed the suspicion aside. Hooks was one of the few people Dez trusted. He would keep it in mind, but it was probably nothing.

“Okay… well-”

​“Richard! Get the line moving already! We’re busier than hell!” A distressed and infuriated voice within Banging Clucks roared.

​For a moment, Ritz’s face reddened and creased so hard Dez feared it would stick that way. Ritz was rarely upset; he rarely fought or argued, unlike Dez and Hooks. But calling him by his government name was a surefire way to test his temper. “Frankly, the job sucks, but it pays well, for me anyway. Plus, you can’t beat a free meal. Losing the chicken connection would suck…”

​Dez chuckled at Ritz’s odd behavior. You couldn’t get a good guy like him down. And there was little in this world that meant as much to him as food.

​But Hooks sighed. “Come on, man, as we discussed before, we can do better than this; you can do better. Listen, I got a massive… opportunity ahead of us. And I need partners I can trust. I convinced Dez here already, so you know it can’t be that bad.”

​“I still don’t know why I agreed,” Dez informed Ritz bluntly. “I’m not signing off on this, but it has to be a hell of a lot better than this,” Dez said, gesturing inside the store of Banging Clucks. “We both know he’s gonna win you over, let’s just skip to that part, yeah?”

​Ritz hummed thoughtfully, then nodded, tossing his red visor and apron onto a counter before climbing through the drive-thru window and sliding into their car. As Hooks maneuvered them out of the line, horns blared around them, objecting to the illegal maneuver, but the three erupted in laughter at the chaos they left behind at Banging Clucks.

​“Question before we start,” Ritz said, mostly joking, as they left his former workplace behind. “Where exactly are we headed—and you better tell me there’ll be some fine women,” Dez noted. Ritz often joked like this, though he’d never actually shown interest in anyone as far as he could remember. A fact that had perplexed the two of them over the years. Dez was convinced it was due to his nerves more than anything, though.

“To the liquor store first, Ritz and Brother, need to pick up our rations for the night.” Hooks said with a smile.

​“Why not head to a bar?” Dez asked; he couldn’t shake this odd feeling. Were Hooks and Ritz hiding something from him? “If we wanna have some fun and say goodbye, so to speak, wouldn’t that be perfect? Get drunk, maybe meet some people?”

​“I can’t stand bars anymore. Once you get used to clubs, bars feel weak,” Hooks said. “So I figured we’d get faded in the woods. Enjoy our time away from all these other folks. This is a new chapter. Why stress the past or goodbyes?”

Dez offered a mock cheer and noticed a flicker of tension from Ritz, but shrugged it off as nerves. “Alright, but you know I prefer—”

​Hooks merely chuckled yet again, revealing a small baggie filled with the green Dez preferred. “Not a problem, my Brother.”

​“Liquor, smoke, and we’re doing it in the woods,” Ritz said weakly. “I’ll be in my element…”

​“Listen, boys, I understand your two concerns.” Hooks began. “As scary men like yourselves.”

​“Here we go again…” Dez complained.

​“But this truly is the start of our new lives. Using my newly gained wealth, our sharp minds, and endless grit. We have the chance to leave this small, good-for-nothing town. Leave behind these people we’ve never gotten along with anyway. And pursue new and exciting opportunities. All while living it up! If that isn’t some American dream shit, I’m not sure what is!” Hooks ranted.

“Hell, you ain’t gotta tell me twice.” Ritz agreed immediately; he may have been one of the few people who placed more faith in Hooks than even Dez. “I wanna live like Em or Jay Z.”

​“I’m sure we’ll make Michael Jackson money.” Dez joked sarcastically.

​“And the first step, boys, is to accept our future, and forget our past!” Hooks continued through their interruptions. “Let’s get crossfaded till we can barely walk, a suitable farewell for this terrible town.” Hooks finished.

Dez and Ritz met eyes in the rearview mirror and exchanged nods. While Ritz was eager, Dez was more reluctant—but he didn’t want to stand out as the only doubter. Both knew this could be their chance to escape Eyeville.

​“Good then, Brother! Ritz!”

​“Man, I hate that I don’t get brother treatment,” Ritz complained.

“Gain some melanin, and we’ll talk.” Hooks joked. “Let’s go buy our weapons of self-destruction!”

​

Dez hated to admit it, but Hooks’ little impromptu get-together was already making him feel better. Going broke and being forsaken within Eyeville had left him an isolated pariah. While Hooks and Ritz’s return to his life had helped, the crushing pressure of structured living had left Dez feeling exhausted.

The three of them sat around a campfire about thirty yards into the forest. They had flattened a patch of smaller trees and gathered dry sticks and leaves for kindling. Most Eyeville folks weren’t city dwellers; even Hooks and Dez had some practical skills. Ritz, though, was the true outdoorsman—he gathered wood, started the fire, and set up logs for seats with ease. Thanks to Hook’s speaker, music completed the cozy setting.

There were many reasons the three were pariahs in Eyeville, even before Hooks and Dez fought the Sheriff’s boy. Hooks attracted trouble; Dez enjoyed it. Ritz wasn’t much of a menace but was considered odd. His loyalty meant he joined them anyway. They brawled, graffiti’d, protested, and found ways to stir up trouble. Dez thought the oddest reason for being disliked was their love for Hip-Hop, Jazz, and R&B—music most Eyeville folks despised, likely because of who made it.

But the three loved their music—Hooks and Dez preferred Hip-Hop, and Ritz loved Jazz and R&B —and influenced the others. Hook’s speaker blasted a mix like “So What,” “Snooze,” and “Crazier.” They drank, joked, and shared the same stories as always. Dez felt the buzz, just a bit duller than usual—when Ritz stood, paused the music, and said, “I think it’s time we come clean, Hooks.”

​The sudden silence after the statement was crushing, creating a growing tension. Even somewhat dimmed as his mind was, Dez felt a prickle of suspicion and doubt beginning to form. Anger, as well, had his suspicions been correct?

​“Suppose it is.” Hooks said evenly. His voice barely slurred, and Dez noticed he didn’t even flinch. Had he been holding back on the booze tonight? Why? “Dez, this little celebration of ours isn’t over. I wasn’t frank about my intentions or what we’re doing tonight. I was honest, just held back info.”

​“What the hell does that mean, Ryan?” Dez’s anger flared at the idea of being misled.

​Hooks’ brow creased again at being called his first name. “There’s one more thing we need to do before we can move on. We have a debt to settle.”

​“Dez, hear him out!” Ritz pleaded before Dez could object. “I won’t lie and say it’s a good idea, but he’s right!

“Dez, our lives have changed dramatically ever since I got this money. What should have been the start of new lives was stunted. All because that white boy couldn’t take his licks,” Hooks said.

​“No, it was because you picked a fight with him, and he wasn’t just any normal white boy. He was the damn Sheriff’s son,” Dez pointed out, heated.

​“Yeah, so what? He fought just as much as we did, bucked right on back. Yet we were the only ones who were punished. Just because we could back the shit we talked?” Hooks rebuked. “No, I’m not good with that. That little rat used his connections to screw us.”

Ritz was silent as the two fought. He had likely known this was inevitable; likely, Hooks had persuaded him to keep quiet till now. He would go with the side that won the argument, wait for it to settle, and then attempt to smooth it over.

​“That’s how the world works,” Dez said simply. “You mess with someone above you in the food chain, and you get smacked down for the trouble. Besides, we’ve already suffered from that mistake…”

​“Listen, I’m sorry…” Hooks apologized. “A Brother was angry and blind. I just wanted out, got pissed at someone acting like everyone else, and somehow I forgot to look out for my boy. But I’m trying to fix that now. I got you back on your feet, and now I’m giving us a chance to leave this all behind. But we have to get back for what they did… Jack and a buddy are camping not too far from here. Should be just the two of them, and we’re going to visit them, hit them hard and fast, get even, and leave town before they can even snitch.”

​“They are rats…” Ritz muttered darkly. “Maybe Hooks did pick that fight, but everyone knows that you don’t go running to the cops, especially your cop dad…” The three of them, as somewhat delinquents, had been told on, snitched on, whatever you liked to call it, plenty of times. And had, over time, formed a hatred for people who were incapable of minding their business.

​“So why even waste our time?” Dez asked. “We got out, we’re fine, why waste our time with them now?”

​“All of Eyeville, your pops, these white boys. Aren’t you tired of people trying you and getting away with it? Don’t you wanna be the winner for once?” Hooks asked. “I know you do, I know you just like me wish we could make them pay…”

​Dez knew what this was; Hooks was an avid reader, but some of their authors were extreme in their writings. But Hooks never seemed to adapt it perfectly; he warped it to fit his own desires. The rebellious spirit that burned within the three of them was the strongest in Hooks. The man not only disliked the established world but also those he was convinced contributed to making it that way.

Though it was hard to deny what he was saying. For the past year, Dez had suffered and suffered, perhaps due to his own faults, but then again, so many others had those same faults within the same plight… “This is a bad idea, but I won’t let you do it alone… let’s just get this over with.”

​With the decision made, Hooks and Dez began packing up their belongings. Ritz stomped out the fire, ensuring all embers were out. The three of them loaded their gear into the Mercedes-Benz, then climbed in. Hooks kept the radio off as they traveled quietly down the dirt road winding through the woods, all three focusing on the plan ahead.

​“So… Exactly how far are we going here… we’re not doing them, are we?” Ritz asked worriedly.

“We’re not,” Dez said firmly before Hooks could respond, glaring at the man in question. “I won’t stand for it.”

​“Of course, we’re just gonna give them a bit of revenge, they walk away scraped up and bruised, and with any luck humbled.” Hooks defended. Focusing on the road for a moment as he traversed a sharp turn. “We pull up close to their campsite, walk the rest of the way, and blitz ’em.”

​“How do you even know this? We barely know this guy, and you somehow know he’s going camping, where he is, and who he brought?” Dez asked.

​“Money goes far, my friend, easy enough to pay someone to keep an eye on him.”

“So a loose end?” Dez asked with a raised brow.

​“They’re solid,” Hooks defended. “Listen, Desmond, if you wanna punk out, then just do it.”

​“I’m here, aren’t I, Ryan?” Dez shouted.

​“Guys,” Ritz interjected, voice calm but sharp. With how little Ritz interjected between them, it got their attention when it did. “This is Eyeville, we do this, then blow this town as we planned, and we’re good. You know how isolated this town is. Even if they do report it, it’ll take forever to get outside forces involved; we’ll get out clean. Hooks, you’re a snake for keeping this away from him, and I’m no better myself. We’re sorry, Dez, and if you don’t wanna do this, then I’m with you.”

​“Fuck…” Hooks exclaimed.

“No, no,” Dez decided hesitantly. “Maybe I am just being scary. I’m just as mad as this guy as you are, Hooks. And if we’re going on the run anyway, then screw it.”

​“Screw it.” Hooks repeated that smile on his face.

​“Then let’s get it. Are we close enough to walk?” Ritz asked.

​“Yeah.” Hooks said, pulling over their car and turning it off. “Let’s do this thing.”

​The three got out of the car, closing the doors quietly behind them. Hooks walked directly to the trunk, opened it, and pulled a special thirty-eight from a backpack. Dez and Ritz both noticed and reacted by cursing immediately upon seeing the gun.

​“Hooks!” Ritz called out.

​“Calm down, boys,” Hooks said with an easy smile. “Do you really wanna run up on white boys in the woods with no heat? It would be stupid, just bringing it in case.”

​“Don’t you dare shoot these boys, Hooks,” Dez warned. “This is a scrap, not an execution.”

​“Exactly, just being real, we can’t pop out unprepared,” Hooks said with a chuckle, stashing the piece within his jacket. Ritz and Dez shared a look of doubt, but the three trekked through the woods regardless.

They moved off the path, keeping low to the ground for stealth. Ritz navigated the underbrush with ease, leading the way, while Hooks and Dez struggled to keep up, stepping cautiously over tangled plants.

Eventually, they spotted their destination: an artificial clearing at the top of a hill. There, a single tent was being set up, and two men sat in metal folding chairs nearby, drinking beers from an open cooler. Oblivious to Dez, Hooks, and Ritz’s approach in the treeline, the men’s backs were turned.

Jack Withers was a typical blue-collar worker. He was one of the local hunters responsible for the occasional deer brought to market. If not for his father, he’d be no one special. But because his father, Rick Withers, was the Sheriff in the small town of Eyeville, he might as well have been the president with how isolated they were. It made him a sort of big shot within the small town, the kind of guy Hooks always hated.

He had a mop of blonde hair done in a simple bowl cut. Next to the man was an unknown bald man, likely a hunting buddy. They were both solid, burly men, the sort that never went easy. It was sure to be a messy brawl.

​Their apparent leader nodded at them, setting off the fight wordlessly. Hooks, with massive strides, made a beeline for Jack, Ritz following him with ease. Dez, however, the shortest, was at the back of the group, and noticing the other two’s laser focus, decided he’d need to take the bald one.

​Hooks leaped forward, leg extended for a kick at full speed. Waiting until it was much too late to make their presence known. “Hey, Jack! I told ya I’d see ya again!”

​Jack could barely flinch before he was kicked out of his chair with a massive heave. Hitting the ground roughly headfirst, a moment later, Dez hit the other guy. He barely managed to turn around and raise an arm, which saved him from Dez’s elbow slamming into his face at full speed. However, the momentum still knocked the sitting man out of his chair, though he managed to stumble forward instead of falling. Dez stalked after him, looking over to see how the other two were doing.

​Jack, to his credit, took the sneak well, attempting to crawl to his feet; however, Ritz dived on top of him before he could, slamming him back to the ground and raining fists down on him wildly. Hooks chuckled as he stalked around the two, kicking and stomping, mocking the man as the two-on-one situation went its natural course. Dez looked back at his man, who had broken out in a sprint, gaze locked onto a bag on the other side of the fire.

​Dez’s skin prickled in response; he smelt gunfire. He trusted his instincts, jumping over the smoldering fire and colliding with the man before he could reach the bag he was focused on. Dez attempted to cling to the man and haul him down, but the larger man kicked him away for a moment before lunging for the bag once again. By the time Dez caught up to the man, he already had his hand inside it. But Dez, with a curse, stomped on the bag and the man’s hand at once.

The man cursed, stopping his attempt before tackling Dez, the two struggling on the ground, all the while swinging punches wildly. Dez attempted to put him in a headlock, but the man rocked back and forth too fast for him to get a grip strong enough to lock it in. However, distracted, Dez suddenly ate a wild swing to the head, dropping him to the ground.

​Stunned, he didn’t even realize he let the bald man go. It was only the man’s proud cheer that broke him out of his stupor. The man had produced a damn Taurus of all things; the massive revolver sent a jolt of fear down the spine of Dez. He lunged forward, grabbing the man’s gun arm and attempting to wrest it away. But the man proved more decisive, slowly using one hand to peel away at his grip. Dez hesitated for a moment, but preservation won out. “Hooks, he has a piece!”

A moment or two passed, the five men cursing in the quiet night, before the bark of a firearm shattered the silence. Dez cursed, the bald man he struggled with letting go of his piece and collapsing with a piercing cry of pain. He looked over to see Ritz and Jack still fighting, and Hooks standing tall, still aiming the revolver at the bald man. Before Dez could blink, Hooks fired again, and the bald man fell silent after the shot ripped through his head, seemingly splitting in two.

Ritz and Jack stopped their struggle, stunned by what they saw, before Jack cracked Ritz with an elbow to the face and raced to his feet, sprinting toward the downed man. Without missing a beat, Hooks turned the revolver towards the man coldly.

​“Ryan, no!” Dez attempted, however, the same bark of the revolver sounded again. Jack fell with a weak cry, grabbing at his left leg and cursing at them angrily. Slowly crawling away from them with a panicked look.

“You fucking scum! I’ll kill you dirty fucking thugs!” Jack roared before he whimpered.

​“He was going for the gun.” Hooks defended. “They tried to pull first; we merely defended ourselves.”

​“This is first-degree murder, probably premeditated…” Ritz said, stunned. “We’re up a creek; even if we leave town, they’ll make sure we’re found…”

​“Dear god, the fuck did we do?” Dez cried out.

​“What we had to do!” Hooks snapped. “Now shut up, we can’t let him go anyway, he saw everything! If we leave a witness, we really are screwed!”

​That made the group pause, as they noticed the downed Jack was crawling away. He moved over the crest of the hill before the slope and gravity took him, sending him tumbling down the other side.

​Hooks cursed, dashing after him, and Ritz and Dez followed after him hesitantly. Unfortunately for Jack, he hadn’t managed to go far, hitting a stone on the hill that stopped him from continuing. The man moaned pitifully, not bothering to move as the three lumbered after him.

“You fucking scum…” Jack said weakly. “You’re done now, you killed someone, you’re all going away forever for this.” Dez grimly noted he wasn’t wrong. While Kentucky hadn’t done so in a while, executions weren’t impossible…

​However, as the other two focused on Jack, Dez scanned the horizon, noticing something at the back of the hill that stunned him. Below, there were even more tents, dozens of them. A whole campsite below them, and several men carrying rifles charging up the hill at night. They hadn’t spotted them, but would surely notice them soon. Why the hell were they here?! They must be investigating the damn gunshots!

​“You caused this, Jack.” Hooks said, crouching over the man. “You lost that fight; if you had just swallowed that loss, this would have never happened. But you had to get your Pa involved.”

​“You assaulted me. It was illegal, and you paid the price. Not my fault, people actually care about me.” Jack cackled at him, spitting at him weakly.

​“And you did it right back.” Hooks rebuked. “But then you had to rat, now look where we are. If you, boy, had fought like a man, we wouldn’t have done this. Were you gonna have your boy kill us? Kill me?!”

​“Ryan!”

​“No, I’m done hearing your bullshit, Desmond! This is over, our new life begins, a shame you won’t get to see it, Jack!” Hooks said that before firing a shot into the downed Jack, it hit his head with a sickening splat. Dez flinched at the sight before looking away. The shot split the head in twain, spilling its contents and blood down the hill before them. Dez didn’t bother trying to run or warn them any further. There was no stopping this now.

​Ritz must’ve noticed what Dez had. “Dude…”

“What?!” Hooks asked, incensed, before their doom called at them.

​“Freeze, Eyeville PD! Hands up! We will shoot!” One of four men in camping gear, wielding hunting rifles and standard-issue nine millimeters alike. They surrounded the three of them, now seeing what they had done. “Oh god… they killed Rick’s boy…”

​“On the ground now!” One of the men demanded. His fury was plain to see, and the situation had worsened. The man seemed primed to shoot. If they so much as pulled an unwelcome step, Dez had little doubt their worries would cease here.

​Hooks looked at Dez before cursing and dropping his gun. Raising his hands and slowly falling to the ground with them still raised, Dez and Ritz were doing the same.

“Xavier, go check on Perry!” One of the men ordered. “He was with Jack…” Two of the other men approached them, cuffing Hooks and Dez first before moving over to cuff Ritz.

​“I fucking told you this would go wrong, Ryan!”

​“Fuck off, Desmond! How the hell was I supposed to know! This was all an accident!”

​“We’re doomed,” Ritz muttered to himself.

The officers ignored their spat, then dragged them to their feet and read them their Miranda rights. Dez could only curse at this all as they were dragged away into the cold night.