Six(78)

Across town, in yet another piece of crap motel, we dropped our bags and moved to the table to eat some food we’d gotten on the way.

The room had more of a ‘70s vibe. Old wood paneled walls were dark, matching my mood. Maybe the cave was what I needed.

We sat down and ate in silence.

The night before played on a loop, from every time Six stopped himself from killing me all the way to Marissa’s empty eyes.

I wiped a tear away and tried not to think about her family. Darren, her brother, was once a crush of mine, and when we were in school, they were very close, even living states away.

The devastation of not only her family, but the families of all the other people who perished. Which reminded me of Indianapolis and Cincinnati.

All the lives lost to cover up the death of three men.

Three men with a distinct marking.

“Do you have them?” I asked as I toyed with a fry.

“Have what?” he asked in return as I failed to say what I was thinking.

“The dots behind the ear? Three had them, then Four. Do you have Six?”

He stared at me for a long moment. I wasn’t sure if it was awe or if he was contemplating my mental health, but it began to be a few beats too many.

Stepping forward he kneeled down, left ear toward me, and folded his lobe over.

Sure enough, in a straight line were six small dots.

“What are they for?” I asked. A curious tattoo, but it held some meaning.

He moved back to his seat and his sandwich. “Identification.”

My brow scrunched as I looked at him. “But I thought you said you had none.”

“Not in the conventional sense.” He took another bite of his sandwich. “It’s mainly for our own safety from each other.”

“How so?”

“For instance, do I look like the same man you met in that bar?”

I blinked at him. No. No, he didn’t. It was a cosmetic difference, but enough to change him.

“We change looks so much and don’t run into each other all that often.”

“Why didn’t they just put a barcode on you?” It wasn’t really a question, and I rolled my eyes as I said it.

“They thought about it,” he said, even more deadpan than normal.

I quirked my brow and took a sip of water. “But?”

“But that would be too much of an identifying marker.”

Shifting positions, I pulled one leg under the other. “So, back to a question from a while ago… can you change ranking?”

He shook his head. “No.”

One word answer, which was at least an answer. With a sigh, I returned to nibbling on my sandwich. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I also hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before.

“We were ranked out of fifty candidates. The top nine made the cut.”

I stared at him in shock.

Twice that day he’d shared personal information. Maybe it was his way of letting me in. Could it be that he did care about me?

“Did you know what you were a candidate for?”

He shook his head. “An elite task force.”

“Do you wish you’d have known?”

“The reason didn’t matter. My country wanted my skills.”

My country. The words didn’t sound right. His country was my country, and knowing they had people like him was unsettling. That they tasked a crew of killers that seemed above all laws.





The next morning we stopped off at a pharmacy, shopping for some supplies and bleach for my roots. With each aisle we traversed, I picked up something new. Half the time he didn’t say anything, the other half he simply quirked a brow at me. It was a silent question, but he didn’t voice any corresponding thoughts.

The dye was the main event of our trip, a necessity to get rid of the budding strawberry blonde of my hair that had become much more noticeable. So much so, he had me wearing a ball cap.

Cherry Carmex to battle the arid weather, a few toiletries I was almost out of, a package of Dove dark chocolate, playing cards, a new book, restocking of wound care, a box of Fruit Loops, a couple bottles of green tea, and a case of water.

All logical and nothing out of the ordinary.

Then I topped it off with a stuffed animal.

Still, he did nothing.

The soft, fluffy bunny was a leftover from Easter, and my new best friend. I hugged him in my arms all the way up to the cashier. The woman on the other side of the counter didn’t even look at me strange. Then again, most of what I’d purchased looked like period necessities—especially the chocolate and preemptive package of tampons.

That was a better explanation to a general population than depression after watching one of my closest friends murdered before my eyes.

The bunny never left my arms as we returned to the motel. It stayed even as Six sat me in a chair and worked on my hair.

I did have to let him go when I jumped in the shower to wash out the bleach, but the moment I was mostly dry, he was back in my arms.

“Lacey?” Six finally spoke after a morning of nothing.

I lifted my gaze to him. His brow was scrunched, and he stared at me in almost confusion. I supposed my sudden obsession with a stuffed animal was strange to him. He didn’t seem to have a wide emotional range.

Or maybe he did, but not an understanding.