Quinn - City of Marge
For several seconds, neither Boone nor I spoke.
The newspaper remained stretched between us, the rough sketches of our faces staring back at us from the page. My eyes moved from the drawing of myself to Boone's, then back again, hoping that somehow another look would magically change the faces.
However, it didn't. We remained wanted men. We had been in Marge for less than a week, and somehow we'd already managed to get ourselves printed in the local newspaper as criminals.
Boone slowly lowered his end of the newspaper, muttering:
"...We're done."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"We're done, Quinn."
He folded the newspaper in half, his expression completely drained of hope. "Our journey lasted what, a few days? We couldn't manage to scrape together a few Coins to buy rations. While trying to make money, we burned down a street!"
"We didn't burn down an entire street."
Boone stared at me.
"...Fine. We still burned down half, if not more, of a street."
I waited till Boone regained some sense of rationality. He's normally calm and calculating, but he can lose his temper quickly.
"Bounty! 2 Wanted Alive! One Irid For Each - Ten Coins For Information"
Looking at the paper, I sighed. Thoughts danced inside my head, thinking of any ideas to get out of this. I landed on one:
"We could leave."
Boone's eyes slowly lifted toward me.
"Yeah, I will. I'm going back to Rose—I don't know why I let you convince me in the first place. This idea was-"
"I meant we should leave Marge. We would escape to another town, earn up some money for rations, then leave," I cut Boone from his rambling.
"Quinn..."
"We've already been sleeping outside. We don't have a permanent place here. We don't have jobs here. There isn't much keeping us in this city anyway."
Boone stared at me blankly.
"We find another city nearby, stock up on food, maybe find some temporary work, then keep moving toward Celestiala. Once we're there, we can figure everything else out."
Boone's expression became increasingly unimpressed. "Quinn... we don't have any money in the first place. We haven't eaten in two days; we don't even have water! And you're telling me you want to leave for another city?"
I looked down at the newspaper again, thinking through the possibilities. Leaving Marge sounded easy enough in my head, but the reality was considerably more complicated. I rubbed my forehead.
"We could steal some."
Boone immediately shook his head: "No, hell no! This is how it started the first time. The Syndicate lied to itself, saying that committing small crimes was for the greater good and necessary for our mission. Eventually, we devolved into savages. This is always how it starts. By excusing the small atrocities that turn into large ones."
I gazed deep into Boone's eyes: "How do you think we got this newspaper?"
Boone's forehead tensed up, wrinkling his forehead and his temples. He raised his hand, pointing his index finger at me: "That was all you; you did that!" He scolded me.
My own eyes narrowed at him, resisting every urge to punch him square in the face. I almost gave in until he began speaking again:
"Quinn, I took a vow never to kill again, with the sole purpose of never wanting to be like my old self... Please, help me keep this vow. Please, don't ask me to commit anything unnecessary to the Syndicate's mission."
Boone grabbed my fist in both his palms, hugging it tightly. I swallowed the giant knot in my throat, pulling my arm back. "Yeah, I get it. I'm the big bad guy who can never change. I'm the big bad guy who is always pulling you down, isn't that right?"
"That's not what I meant-"
"Whatever, I don't care. I don't need you to bring up bullshit like some vow. I don't need you to kill for me. I'm the big bad guy, remember?"
I snatched the newspaper from his hands, burying my eyes deep into it, pretending to scan for anything useful. Boone held back from speaking up again. It was an awkward minute until he decided on a plan.
"We should go to the sheriff." His words caught me off guard.
I stared at him as though he'd suggested we walk into a dragon's den. "You're joking."
"I'm not. We're only wanted because of an accident. They don't know that. If we hand ourselves in and explain, it'll look a lot more believable."
"Boone, think about this. We walk into a Sheriff's Office while our faces are plastered all over the newspaper. They could arrest us before we even get the chance to explain ourselves."
"Then we explain ourselves before they arrest us."
"That's not how that works."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've never heard of someone walking into a police station and having it go well."
Boone gave me a blank stare. "That's because you're imagining a completely different situation."
He reached for the newspaper, folding it neatly before tucking it beneath his arm.
"We didn't intentionally start the fire. We didn't rob anyone. We didn't hurt anyone. We caused an accident, Quinn. That's it." I remained silent. He continued, "If we run now, we're going to look guilty.
"If we leave Marge after seeing this bounty, they'll have even more reason to believe we did something intentionally. If we go to the sheriff and explain what happened, at least there's a chance they'll believe us."
"And if they don't?"
He gave me a small smile, "If things start getting bad, we leave. It's that simple."
I scoffed, "That's a crime, and you're apparently a changed man."
"Yeah, I want to be. But I'm also not leaving Rose alone at home. Remember, I'm only here to help you partially rebuild this crew; after that, I'm leaving again..."
I snatched the newspaper from him, crumbling it into a ball and throwing it away as it had no use anymore. I didn't bother to read any of the other news.
***
We returned to the main street, where the morning crowd had grown considerably larger. People moved between shops and stalls, carrying bags of food and packages while merchants called out to passing customers. The city felt completely unaware that two of its newest wanted criminals were walking among them.
Boone walked beside me, closer, keeping his head down and whispering, "We need a map. Neither of us knows the route to the Sheriff's office. I'm sure if we go to any street sign, they'll have a town map."
I followed his finger toward a wooden post standing near the center of an intersection. Several street signs were carved into the wood, each pointing in a different direction. Beneath them stood a large wooden board surrounded by several smaller pieces of paper.
People gathered around it throughout the morning, reading the various notices pinned across its surface.
We approached carefully, making our way through the crowd with our heads down, praying to The Father that no one looked too closely at us. Turns out Boone was right about there being a map, but there was also a town board.
The large wooden board was covered in sheets of paper, advertisements, announcements, missing-person notices, and small sections of newspapers. Some were pinned neatly into rows, while others had been slapped onto the wood wherever there was enough space.
A smaller heading at the top read:
MARGE DAILY BOARD — LOCAL & OUTSIDE NEWS
I leaned closer, "Looks like they post the newspaper here."
"They post snippets to hook people into actually buying the full paper. That's my thought at least," Boone nodded.
"You're probably right, since you're such a smartass and such a good person," I jabbed at him. My previous anger from the alleyway was still obvious.
Someone had drawn another sketch of us, this one even worse than the newspaper's. My hair looked like it had been struck by lightning, and Boone's face looked like the artist had never actually seen a human being before.
My eyes continued moving across the board, passing over local announcements and small pieces of information from surrounding cities. Most of it meant nothing to us. Except one caught my eye.
CELESTIA ACADEMY STUDENTS DISMANTLE CELESTIALA SMUGGLING OPERATION
"Oh, what's this?"
Boone looked over my shoulder. The article described a group of young students from Celestia Academy who had helped stop a smuggling operation involving several criminals who were using children. I skimmed the details.
Apparently, the students had assisted civilians, apprehended several members of the group, and helped capture the operation's leader. Report Services had arrived afterward to take the criminals into custody.
"Wonderful for them; let's focus on us." Boone was clearly not as interested as I was.
A small map of Marge had been posted beside the news section. I tore my attention away from the articles and leaned closer to study them.
"There."
I pointed toward a building marked near the eastern side of the city.
SHERIFF'S OFFICE
Boone leaned beside me.
"We're here." His finger moved along the map. "Then we go down this road, take the second left, continue past the market, and it's near the eastern gate."
We memorized the streets and immediately began walking before either of us forgot the route.
The streets seemed longer now that we knew where we were going. Every passing uniform caught my attention, and every time someone looked in our direction, I wondered whether they recognized us from the newspaper.
Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone would eventually notice.
Boone, on the other hand, seemed considerably calmer than before. "You know," he said, "if this works, we could actually stay in Marge. Assuming we can find a job.
"And if the sheriff clears us, we don't have to spend the rest of our time looking over our shoulders."
***
The streets gradually became less crowded as we approached the eastern side of the city. The buildings here were larger, with fewer shops and more government offices. The noise of the market slowly faded behind us.
Soon, Boone stopped abruptly, causing me to nearly walk into him.
"What?"
He carefully pointed his finger toward us. A large stone building stood at the end of the street, its entrance marked by a wooden sign hanging above the doors.
SHERIFF'S OFFICE
Looking towards the street ahead of us, it looked more and more like a scene in one of those old novels depicting a ruined, barren town. The sandy pavement and lack of business, compared to the other side of town, gave this street a dull look. I wouldn't be surprised if a random tumbleweed began rolling down from nowhere.
"...Ready?" Boone whispered.
I didn't bother to put in much effort into my response: "Just shut up, let's go..."