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Gun shots rang through the air and a wave of relief rushed over Stebbins’s tired and aching body. Not because he ever thought McVries could win, a ridiculous notion, but because it was finally down to the one other person he deemed worthy to have made it this far. The crowds and soldiers surrounding them were nothing but a backdrop, and until the final step was taken all that existed in the world was Garraty and himself.
“Finish the story,” His voice was low and throaty, as if speaking to a lover. “Finish the story, Garraty.”
“No,” Garraty’s eyes were trained forward, his gaze distant. Defeated. “I don’t think so.”
The other boy’s expression filled him with both annoyance and confusion. The prize was within his grasp, so why did Garraty’s look of forfeit piss him off so much? Why did he still have to vie with the dead McVries for Garraty’s attention?
“Let it go, then,” the impulsive jab scribbled from his smiling lips. “If there are such things as souls, his is still close. You could catch up.”
The words had their intended effect and Garraty’s eyes cut towards him now filled with cold determination. “I’m going to walk you into the ground.”
“Are you?” For Garraty he could continue being the rabbit. Just for a bit longer. “We’ll see.”