Five Decembers

by James Kestrel

“You’re not drunk.” “I punched out a half hour ago. If you’d given me a whole hour, maybe I could’ve done something.”

Blame would spread as far as it would go. Like pouring a can of paint down a hill. Most of it would end up at the bottom, but it would stain everything it touched on the way down.

When the food came, he laid the case out. Ball warmed up a little when he saw the pork chops. He warmed up a lot more when McGrady told him he’d shot a man dead that morning. Apparently that made up for speaking some Mandarin.

Missing her was its own peculiar satisfaction. It was proof he belonged somewhere.

He hadn’t seen either one of them before, and bore them no grudge. They’d have to earn that.

He sat on the bench and drank it as dawn lit his tiny window. He thought it would be the most miserable drink of his life. The years ahead would prove him wrong.

“You’re a pacifist?” “Would that surprise you?” “A bit.” “There are plenty of us. Our voices weren’t heard. We were speaking reasonably. They were waving swords and shouting. It wasn’t an even contest.”

He had no map. Getting lost didn’t concern him. He was lost before he started. Going home was the greater unknown.

It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t Fred Ball’s fault. It was a complete disaster and nobody had done anything wrong.

“I’m going to enjoy it. Every second of it.” “It’s why I brought you in. I wanted you to show me how it’s done.” Ball drank his beer down to the bottom. He pointed at his blackened eyes. “I thought we were supposed to be better than this.” “I guess we’re not.”

If he’d truly been a sworn soldier of the German Reich, the odds were better than good that he was dead. Which is all McGrady would have asked of him were they to meet in person. But if he’d died from anyone else’s bullet, there’d be no justice to it.

The desk clerk was new. He had all ten fingers and no rings, but he was as susceptible to five dollars as the last man had been.

“You’re a Nazi.” “That’s only a word,” Smith said. “Politics. A way to divide people.” “It’s a big divide.”