"Don't you move a damn inch," Brendan told him. "Seriously. Don't do anything. Don't even breathe too hard."
James watched Brendan hop out of the car and slam it closed, cutting out the cold air. Brendan trudged out towards the city, following the other sets of footprints. James watched him go until he looked small as a bug. And then he disappeared altogether, and James was alone again.
Sitting alone in the car, an uncomfortable lack of feeling slowly covered James. His stomach emptied out and his head left light. He strained to place what was wrong, but if felt like a wall had been put up, smooth and slick and impossible to get a grip on. And he was stuck here on the wrong side and he couldn't reach, couldn't reach the pieces that stayed just too far away.
James felt as if he should be feeling some kind of emotion. Anything.
But he just felt empty.
Empty, except for one longing finger that kept reaching out and pointing down the road, down towards Ottawa.
James sat for a couple minutes. Sat until the tug at his heart became unbearable, and he needed to go. Needed to see what was down the road. Maybe he could help somehow. Maybe he could help his friends.
He saw Rory's betrayed, heartbroken expression in his mind and James' stomach pressed down and made him breathe out in pain.
Rory was right. He was a murderer.
Murderer.
He needed to get out of this stuffy cramped car before he lost his mind.
He slammed the door shut behind him. It was night time, and the temperature had dropped to way below zero. James zipped up his coat and walked down the road, towards where he thought he should go.
Murderer.
Helena's broken eyes flashed in his mind over and over again. He felt the pistol kick in his hand over and over again, the split second where he crossed from friend to killer.
James walked down the bare highway, leaving fresh footprints in the fluffy untouched snow. He walked faster as the whisper chased him.
Murderer.
Buildings appeared on either side and James walked down the side road leading off the highway and towards the city.
It was smaller than Toronto, more humble. Little old shops and closed off businesses littered the way.
James took out his flashlight and flicked it on, casting a yellow beam down his path. As James peered ahead through the night, and he thought he could make out action in the distance. He could hear the faint sounds of popping and booming.
His heart rate rose along with the sounds as he got closer. A droning came from the sky, and James looked up as a fleet of planes shot by. He wondered if he was heading straight into a war zone.
Murderer.
Many minutes went by, clumped together into an hour. James kept walking in silence. He hummed his favorite songs under his breath. The flashlight swept around, grasping at nothing.
Suddenly, a loud explosion echoed towards James and his eyes widened. Only a few streets away, a bright light flared up into the sky and shone on the city. James whipped his head around to grasp at his surroundings. His eyes caught onto something. Shapes, moving around in the dark.
People.
James' breath caught and the explosion subsided, casting the world back into darkness. James sprinted towards where the moving shaped had disappeared, towards help, towards what must be-
