Last Avenger

Chapter 4

A little after midnight, Steve climbed out of bed and crept out onto the balcony. He scanned the horizon and soon found the bright, blinking light off north on the horizon. It looked to be over water offshore, but Steve's branded memories pinpointed the light to the exact intersection. The light was like an old, childhood song. Steve tapped on the railing, not just to track the code in which it spoke, but to also drink in that old melody.

"You're letting in a draft," Thor said.

Steve sighed and leaned on the railing. He looked over his shoulder to Thor's stern, scathing face.

"Is this why you didn't want to stay in Manahawkin?" Thor said.

Steve rolled his eyes and stretched his neck. "I'm going to bed." He straightened up and made his way inside, slipping past Thor.

"That's New York isn't it," Thor said, jamming the brakes on Steve. "That light – that's New York, right?"

Steve stiffened his posture but refused to turn to his friend.

Thor shook his head. "You know, you go on and on about keeping a low profile. But you won't just let us leave."

Steve snapped to face Thor. "We can't leave these people."

"There are other people, Rogers!"

"That's not the point."

"No, that is the point! To hell with New York! To hell with all this!"

"So, why go on all these missions, hm?" Steve retorted. "Why tomorrow?"

Thor shrugged and shook his head. "Because why not?"

Steve folded his arms, his stance, like his face, now firmer.

Thor sighed and threw his arms at his side. "Let's just rest up for tomorrow." He stormed over to his bed and flopped down on the pillow

Steve meandered inside and set himself on the end of his bed. He itched with Thor's words crawling under his skin. Once he heard the snoring rumbling from Thor's chest, Steve was drawn back to the balcony where the light in New York still faithfully blinked. The pace didn't change. The pattern didn't change. Satisfied, Steve retired for the night.

They were jarred out of sleep the next morning by a staccato wrapping on the door. Thor shoved his pillow onto his head and attempted to wave away whoever it was. Steve lay in his bed, his eyes adjusting, angrily still. He swept the blankets off and staggered to the door. He opened it to Ari's face already seeming over the day.

"About time," they said. "Let's go."

Steve nodded, his head still heavy.

"I'll be in the car," they said.

"Thor, get up, Ari's here," Steve ordered over his shoulder.

"Alright, I'll be there in a moment," Thor croaked, muffled under the pillow.

Steve sighed and got dressed.

Dressed in hoodies and jackets against a cool day, Thor and Steve approached Ari's truck. Steve climbed in the backseat and scooted down behind Ari, expecting Thor to climb in next. Instead, Thor held at the threshold for a moment then shut the door and climbed in the front seat. Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the window.

Ari's jaw was tensed up as they got the truck in gear and pulled off. The ride along 72 was silent. The clouds were thinner than they had been the past few days. The sun's shape was more apparent and not just an amorphous glare. The world's slumber was much more apparent in the sun's stronger light. Everything was mud or overgrowth, and any homes or other structures left standing were all the same sickly pale, truly looking like corpses as the rain dried off in the wind.

The monotony was grating. Ari blinked at shorter intervals to stave off hypnosis as they drove through the nothing that was Hwy 9 down eastern mainland New Jersey. The highway remained in the land like a spiteful scar, even in places where the road had eroded away. Like they were an automatic transmission, Ari shifted into the next gear, but it slipped into a higher gear and the truck cut out.

"Ugh, fuck right off," Ari grumbled as they stomped the clutch and retried the ignition.

The truck sputtered back up and continued its drudge.

Ari sighed, heavily and emphatically. They looked at Steve through the rearview and swiveled their head in a glance at Thor: their positions and blank, vaguely angered expressions hadn't changed.

"You guys gonna be ready for this?" Ari said, their voice acrid.

"Yes," Thor replied promptly, indignant about the challenge.

Steve threw a hand up to illustrate the obviousness of his answer.

A little before midday, they entered the city limits of Atlantic City. Ari followed the Expressway into town to the Convention Center, then followed the Brigantine Connector up to Venice Park.

"Where was your truck again?" Ari said.

Steve cleared his throat as he glanced at Thor. Thor sneered at him in the rearview before catching Ari's frosty stare.

"On the...on the other bridge," Thor muttered.

"Which other bridge?" Ari said.

Steve and Thor dug into their silence.

"Oh...don't tell me on Absecon," Ari said.

Still more silence.

"Really? You guys didn't know that bridge has been out for, like, ever? Even I knew!" Ari chuckled at them. "And you guys were actually around before the war!" Ari's chuckle burst into full laughter. "God, you guys are idiots. This is why I gotta drive you now."

They followed a roundabout route to Borgata Boulevard to avoid the Gennisian hold on their way into Harrah's Resort. Ari stopped the truck at Harrah and Renaissance Point. Under the loom of the hollow tower, in the valet parking, Steve and Thor crawled out of the truck and collected their gear out of the truck's bucket. Ari sat behind the wheel, the door ajar, having a few drags of cigarette. The men, with their bags and weapons slung up on their backs, wished Ari an obligatory "safe trip," which Ari acknowledged, cigarette in mouth, with an absent wave as they got the truck turned around. They ducked into the foyer of the building as Ari traced their way back out of the city.