The Devil Doesn't Bargain

Price

I had lost count of the years that past. My joints hurt more though, so a good chunk of time had passed.

Retirement has been hard. I once heard that veteran's don't go back to civilian life because they never belonged in civilian life. Never really gave it some thought until I did retire.

Once Kyle got out of his service he joined the force again. Just where I found him before. He is an exceptional Sargeant, and an even better friend.

I never had children of my own, but a part of me hopes that if I did, they'd be like Kyle.

The last I heard from Ember was she was in the psych ward, gonked out of her mind on memories.

Before I retired I received a report that Simon was in critical condition, when I went to go see him to discharge him he was maskless. Bare to the world for the first time in a long time.

He didn't speak much, but he handed me his balaclava with a letter for Ember. It wasn't enough though... I asked, almost pleaded for his sweatshirt. I wanted it for myself.

When did I get so selfish?

Simon didn't want anyone to see him like this, battered. Bloody... Dying. Much like Ember when we first found her.

So we spoke once, on that day. I told him I was proud of him, and left. Assuming he had passed the way he wanted. I never corrected anyone who assumed he was alive. Sometimes living a fantasy is better than reality...

"Ey, Johnny." The patron, Eli, called to me.

"Eli you know not to call me that." I growled, walking to his end of the bar. "What can I do for you?"

"Can I get some of that top self whiskey? The one you never pull down?"

"No. That's for a special occasion."

"Common John.. You've been here 3 years, what's more special that celebrating that!"

"Many things. Its reserved for two things. I can get you your usual though."

"Fine. Only if you tell me what those two occasions are mate." Eli was a regular, not a drunk though. He was nice, paid his tab. Just needed an escape for a bit.

"Deal." I smirked, pouring his glass and leaning on the bar. "Its saved for if the dead rise. And the lost find their way home."

"Bloody hell.. That made no sense."

"To you."

"Well okay then, tell me about the first one. The dead rise? This isn't a zombie movie mate."

"You see those jackets over there?" I pointed to the two sweaters draped over the corner stools.

"Hm. Yeah." He said, sipping his drink.

"Those belong to two of my sons, I lost them about 5 years now when we all served together"

"You don't have children."

"I do. Four to be exact. May not be blood, but they are my children." I huffed, pushing off the bar and serving another customer.

"Tell me about them."

"Hm? My kids?"

"Yeah, I've been coming here since you opened. I like to think we're friends enough for that." Eli laughed, sipping his whiskey.

"Simon and Johnny, those are the sweaters. Died in an explosion." I opened a beer, drinking from it. "Johnny was funny. The fuckin' jokester of the group. Always had to make everyone laugh or smile in some way..."