Page 123 of Hell and High Water

“You look like shit.”

What might pass for a laugh gurgles out of him, and I immediately know there’s no point trying to get him up. The bubbling sound tells me he’s probably got a collapsed lung. He definitely has a broken leg.

“Fucking hell, Tyler, what did they do to you?” I sigh, hesitant to try to move him. He’s fucked up pretty bad.

“Dad… please, call me Dad.”

“You never really earned that name.”

“I hope… I tried to. I really did. Tried to fight back.” Blood trickled down his lip, pooling on the floor with spit and who knows what else. “Wanted to stop what I caused…”

“Yeah. After you brought him here.” I shouldn’t be petty. Not now.

“You’re right. I fucked up. Doomed us. But I did it, Ty. I did one good thing.”

“What did you do?”

“I got them out. Got them to safety. He doesn’t know where they are. Not even I do.”

“Mom? Shannon? Where are they?”

“S–Safe.” All he can do is shake his head feebly. Better if he doesn’t tell me. Better if no one knows.

After a few seconds, I debate leaving, thinking he’s passed out again. A soft gasp gives me pause. So do the tears I hear pattering onto the cement floor a second later.

“I've been terrible to you your whole life. I always knew… knew there was more to you. You had us all fooled.” His chuckle chokes out to a cough. “But I knew…”

“Yeah, well, a hell of a lot of good it’s done so far. I’m sorry, Dad. I should’ve been here to stop them. I should’ve tried to find you sooner.”

“No. No.” He grabs at my hand, pulling me closer. “You are so much more valuable out there, in the shadows. Use it, Son.”

We lock eyes for a moment, reconciling everything that we’ve done to one another over the years. The abuse. The neglect.

“Use it,” I repeat.

“Yes. Use your gifts to stop him. Change your face. Get right up next to him till you can see the fucking whites of his eyes when you kill him. Make that son of a bitch pay for hurting our people. Do you understand me? You make him regret the day he was born.”

Another fit of coughing takes him, and this time, I’m certain. He’s fading.

“J–Junior? Tyler?”

“Yes, Dad?”

“If you ever see your mother and sister again, can you tell them what I did? You tell them how I died defending our home. That I did one goddamn good thing in my life. Will you do that for me? Will you do that for me? Please.”

His voice shifts, his usual commanding presence long gone, leaving only a desperate plea.

“I will.”

“You’ve got company incoming, Tell. Get out of there,” Gavin scratches over the com.

I’m already up, backing away and climbing up toward the high window along the side of the building, torn as I watch my father raise his head higher.

“Tell…” he whispers, his eyes closing.

I gasp as he says my name. The name I chose.

“Tell. I’m proud of you, Son. Give them hell.”

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