Free Crash III: There's No Place Like Home by Michael Robertson

outside caught Michael’s eye. He pushed down on Lola’s shoulder and dropped beneath the window next to her.
    When she looked at him, he pressed a finger across his lips and pointed a thumb at the wall.
    While staring at Lola, he listened. The windows may have been thick, but he could still hear people walking across the pavement. One of them spoke. A boy; his voice was deeper than Michael’s, but not quite a man yet. “What the fuck? How do you think this boy got here, Archie?”
    Another, deeper voice replied, “He was probably killed like every other dead body we’ve come across.”  
    Although one voice was deeper than the other, they sounded exactly the same. They must be brothers.
    The deeper voice spoke again. “Come on now; let’s keep moving.”
    Even with the thick wall and window, Michael held his breath as he listened to the boys.
    “Wait,” the younger one said.
    Looking into Lola’s wide eyes, Michael heard the footsteps outside getting closer. He pushed himself flat against the cold, stone wall beneath the window and pulled Lola in next to him.
    A shadow pressed up against the window above him, so Michael pushed farther into the hard wall. A nauseating throb ran through his ankle, but he couldn’t move. The boys could be working for Julius.
    “It’s a library, Archie. It looks empty. Why don’t we rest up for the night?”
    The younger boy’s breath steamed up the window above as he kept his face pressed to it. When the other one called to him, he moved away. “We’ve got to keep moving. Why the fuck would we want to camp out in a library?”
    “Because it’ll be safe.”
    “Getting out of this city will be safe. Come on, let’s go.”
    The shadow of the boy stepped back from the window, his footsteps moving away from them as he crossed the pavement. When it sounded like they were far enough away, Michael leaned close to Lola. “You don’t need to babysit me. You need me around. If it wasn’t for me, they would have just found us then. I’m a help.”
    Rolling her eyes, Lola shook her head and started to crawl away from the window. “Come on, Nearly Eleven, let’s go.”

Disposal

    As they left the library, Michael looked toward the boy on the pavement. “It feels wrong to leave him here.”
    After looking at the dead kid, Lola searched their surroundings and threw a flippant shrug at him. “What do you suppose we do? Dig a hole in the pavement for him?”
    Her cruelty stung, but she was right.  
    They moved on without another word, Michael giving the corpse such a wide berth he walked down the center of the road on the other side of the white line.  
    Lola shook her head at him and stepped over the boy.
    Although he continued to glance back over his shoulder at the dead boy, Michael fell back into line with Lola.
    After he checked behind for what must have been the fifth or sixth time, Lola said, “Are you waiting for him to get up and walk away or something?”
    “I dunno; it’s just… that boy could have been me. I was captured and led to the warehouse like him. I could be the one left dead on the pavement. I just feel guilty, that's all.”
    Lola stopped walking and stared at him.  
    “What?” Michael asked.
    But she didn’t reply. Instead, she groaned, turned around, and headed back toward the boy.
    “What are you doing?” Michael called, but she didn’t respond. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he hobbled after her. “Lola, what are you going to do?”
    Lola stopped next to the body and Michael caught up with her. When she bent down and grabbed the boy’s ankles, Michael gasped. “What are you doing?”
    The boy’s head bounced against the hard pavement as she dragged him toward the library’s entrance.  
    “Be careful with him.”
    Lola stopped still, kept a hold of the boy, and stared at Michael. Ice hung off every word. “He’s dead. I’m sure he doesn’t care about being dragged. If you keep complaining, I’m going to leave him here for the