#5

Around the time the sun had completely set, Tennessee stopped at a gas station situated on a quiet roadside. He was low on fuel and needed to buy water.

“Stay here.”

As he spoke to the child after filling the tank, the child asked, “Can’t I come too?” The bright tone they had used earlier when commanding him to change the channel was gone, replaced by an attitude that anticipated rejection.

Tennessee checked the child’s attire and his own. Dressed casually and looking somewhat similar in appearance, they weren’t a particularly conspicuous pair.

“Fine, then.”

The moment permission was granted, the child threw their arms wide in joy as if they had arrived in paradise. “Yay!” They reacted as if Tennessee’s reluctant jerk of the chin was some grand reward.

“Don’t buy too much.”

It was a small convenience store with limited stock anyway, but the child’s eyes were already filled with excitement. At Tennessee’s warning, the child’s hand paused while grabbing two packs of Mountain Dew. There was no real reason for it, but feeling a sudden sense of guilt, Tennessee added:

“I don’t have much money.”

Liar! Liar!

The child had seen the hundred-dollar bills coming out of the black wallet when Tennessee mentioned something about the tooth fairy.

However, Tennessee was under no obligation to buy these things. The child quickly gave up and put the drinks back.

“…Just buy them.”

Tennessee tossed the words out carelessly. Naturally, the child’s face lit up. Tennessee watched as the excited child ran around the store.

Tennessee’s attitude toward purchasing was consistent and firm. Concise; only what was necessary.

Thus, he never spent more than ten minutes whenever he bought something.

Tennessee looked at his wristwatch and let out a hollow laugh. Thirty minutes had already passed since they entered the convenience store. He had done nothing, yet thirty minutes had flown by like three.

Can I buy this?

No.

How about this?

Yes.

Do I put it over there?

All he had done was have those conversations while watching the child scamper about, yet time had vanished in an instant. And now, the items the child had brought back were a problem.

Tennessee tended to keep his meals simple. Eating was more of an obligation than a desire, and he didn’t like foods loaded with sugar and salt. However, having recently bought sugary drinks and eaten pancakes and omelets to suit the child’s taste, his body felt heavy. Even now, the pile of things the child had brought consisted of all sorts of high-calorie sugar bombs.

“Put these back.”

“But you said I could buy them earlier…”

“Are you talking back to me?”

“No.”

To explain, Tennessee thought the child would pick one of them, not bring every single one to the counter.

While the child put the items back with slumped shoulders, Tennessee finished the payment.

Among the vast array of items, Tennessee’s purchases consisted only of water, beer, and cigarettes.

They had arrived in Texas, but it would still take several hours to reach Austin. Tennessee checked the clock. If he had driven without stopping and eaten in the car, he could have arrived within two days. Because he had been forced to take a passenger, it was taking double that time.

No matter how much patience the child had compared to their peers, there was a limit, so he had needed to stop occasionally to let them get some fresh air and burn off energy.

The silver lining, however, was that since they had reached Texas, he no longer needed to worry about the police.

The moment the car stopped and Tennessee stepped out of the driver’s seat, the child sensed it. They knew those words were coming from Tennessee.

‘Stay here.’ Those words. Stay here.

“Stay here.”

The child nodded, silently mimicking Tennessee’s words by reading his lips. Tennessee, not smiling even at the child’s reaction, pulled a gun from his pocket.

Though the muzzle wasn’t pointed at them, the child felt as if they had been drenched in ice-cold water and looked up at Tennessee.

For a split second, the child thought Tennessee was going to shoot them. Though they soon realized it was the opposite.

“Do you know how to fire a gun?”

With a frightened face, the child shook their head. Tennessee scanned the alley, which was devoid of any presence.

The homicide rate in Texas was about twelve per hundred thousand people—much lower than in neighboring Louisiana—but it was still a place where one couldn’t be entirely complacent. If a turf war broke out between gangs, it wasn’t uncommon for an unlucky passerby to be shot and killed.

Tennessee placed the gun in the child’s hand. Despite their face turning pale, the child didn’t recoil or let go.

It was that look.

The moment the child gripped the gun and looked up at him, Tennessee felt a strange thrill in those eyes. It was a kind of vicarious satisfaction.

A desire to survive, a will to exist, was burning within the child. It was a longing that Tennessee, who lived out of obligation, could not find in his own mirror. Having already burned out himself, he did not want to extinguish a longing that had only just begun to blaze.

“Unlock this, and then this.”

Tennessee had the child wrap both hands around the gun and then moved the child’s hands himself to demonstrate. The child’s underdeveloped hand overlapped with Tennessee’s white hand. Despite the muzzle being pointed toward himself, Tennessee explained step-by-step without a hint of tension.

“If worst comes to worst, just shoot.”

“…Where are you going?”

Tennessee didn’t answer, tossing his cigarette butt away with a long exhale.

“They’ll be here soon. Hide until then.”

This particular area was especially rough. The child stared blankly as Tennessee checked another gun. They gripped the weapon tightly with both hands, as if it were their last lifeline.

The moment the gun was placed in their hand, the child must have sensed its weight. Perhaps they felt that they might have to say a final goodbye.

3 – Chapter

To think the child already knows the weight of that moment. Tennessee felt pity for the boy. However, he deliberately refrained from saying anything to reassure him. If things went south, this truly could be the end.

Turning away, Tennessee took a few steps before doubling back and pressing down on the boy’s head, which was poking out like a mole.

“Keep your head down and just stay hidden.”

Nod, nod. The child complied, his face etched with obvious tension.

* * *

The place Tennessee entered was a pub.

He hoped that unlucky nephew of his wasn’t there.

As he opened the door, Tennessee searched for someone.

Some time ago, Tennessee had left his car and a new identity here. He had done it as a precaution against unforeseen circumstances, but thinking back now, he felt a brief flash of regret that it had been a foolish move.

The man had agreed to hold them because he owed Tennessee a debt, but given the nature of gangs, members were replaced quickly, and a perfectly healthy person could end up dead by the next day. There was no guarantee that the man who had promised the new identity was even still alive.

“Hey. Look who it is.”

But unlucky bastards always tend to be resilient. The man greeting Tennessee with fake warmth was no exception.

Alejandro welcomed Tennessee with open arms. He was a fairly influential man, holding a middle-management position among the Latino gangs.

“What brings you all the way here?”

“I came to collect what your uncle promised me.”

As soon as Tennessee finished speaking, the man let out a theatrical sigh.

“I’m sorry, but he’s no longer here. He is in the arms of the Lord.”

The silver cross dangling from the man’s necklace swayed as if mocking him. Tennessee could not understand this honest hypocrisy.

Selling drugs, smuggling illegal immigrants from Mexico to force them into prostitution, and killing without hesitation—yet claiming to have a devout faith. Perhaps it was because of that devout faith that he did such things. After all, they say one can be saved as long as they truly repent.

“However, I heard my uncle owed you something, Tennessee.”

The man stepped behind the bar and gestured. Though reluctant, Tennessee followed him.

Tennessee had always disliked bastards with particularly flawed personalities, but drug dealers were beyond mere dislike; they were objects of loathing.

Having had a heroin addict for a mother, Tennessee knew the toxicity and destructiveness of drugs. It was impossible not to feel hatred toward the dealers who directly contributed to the spread of the poison.

A hitman who hated drug dealers. Tennessee knew it was contradictory. Either way, in terms of bringing harm to society, the two were no different.

“How did Calito die?”

“It was an honorable death. He’s probably looking down on me from heaven with pride.”

I doubt it. Tennessee smiled crookedly, his expression conveying that blatant meaning. The Calito he knew was an outdated relic. He was a man who had joined the gang not for money or pleasure, but out of a sense of family love and resistance against power. Seeing Tennessee’s expression, a look of displeasure crossed Alejandro’s face.

“The keys.”

However, there wasn’t much Alejandro could do. Regardless, Calito had owed Tennessee a great debt, and as long as he belonged to a gang that valued honor, his flesh and blood, Alejandro, was obligated to pay it back.

Car keys and a passport dropped into Tennessee’s outstretched hand. Tennessee checked the name on the vehicle registration and his ID.

A name like a schoolboy. With that assessment, Tennessee tucked the necessities into his pocket.

“Seeing you look for things like this, I guess business hasn’t been going well lately?”

“Better than your drug business.”

“I could give you a job if you want.”

Now we get to the point. Tennessee found it absurd.

“Take work from a gang? Why don’t you use your own methods? They’ve worked well for you so far. Piling into cars and spraying bullets everywhere. It’s so efficient and concise.”

“Watch your mouth, Tennessee. Show some respect. Unless you want that handsome face of yours crushed.”

“Try it if you can.”

Tennessee replied lightly. He knew the man didn’t have the guts.

Though they shared nothing in common, since he was the nephew, he must have heard things from Calito. Including the fact that Tennessee was not someone to be taken lightly.

“I don’t take dirty jobs.”

The fact that he wanted to hire a hitman despite having his own subordinates meant the job was shady. If he were unlucky, he could get caught up in a gang war or internal factional strife. It wasn’t a huge problem, but it was annoying and not worth the effort.

“The car?”

The man spat and jerked his chin.

Tennessee removed the cover from the car and climbed into the driver’s seat.

He felt it every time, but whenever he saw Alejandro, his mood soured. Tennessee lit a cigarette.

Feeling the man’s gaze through the window, Tennessee genuinely wondered how such a nephew could have come from someone like Calito.

Then again, seeing as a hitman came from that woman—who, despite being a drug addict, wasn’t a killer—it probably wasn’t entirely impossible.