Outlaws by Matt Rogers (phonics books TXT) 📕

have been, because that’s useless, isn’t it? We’re living in this reality. All I can do is improve my circumstances as much as I can.’

Slater was taken aback. He’d said, ‘That’s a good theory. But to put it into practice…’

‘Takes determination. Takes relentlessness. You’d know.’

Slater knew.

Now, he pulled into the parking lot of the Rentarío Paralysis Centre. It was a long low building, the whole exterior painted white.

From the back, Beckham said, ‘Home?’

‘If you want it to be,’ Slater said.

Beckham smiled wryly. ‘Oh, so if I don’t like it, you’ll become my full-time carer?’

Slater shrugged. ‘We can find another place if you don’t—’

‘They’re all the same,’ Beckham said. ‘Trust me.’

Both Slater and Alexis spun in their seats so they could speak to him face-to-face.

Beckham said, ‘This is my life. There’s no point ignoring reality. I need a place like this. It doesn’t matter how fancy it looks or feels. It’s not like I can feel it anyway. Like I said, all I can focus on is what I can control. Like my happiness.’

Slater didn’t know how to respond.

Alexis said, ‘I want you to know you’ve changed my perspective on life.’

Beckham looked over. ‘I’m glad. Now get me inside before I change my mind and go back on all this inspirational bullshit.’

Slater laughed, and levered himself out of the driver’s seat, and stood tall and spread his arms wide and stretched his body, all his muscles wound tight from endless hours of driving.

The evening was warm, and the atmosphere was pleasant.

No one was hunting them.

If they were, they’d never find them.

Life, for the first time in a long time, was simple.

Four parking spaces down, the front doors of a Ford Mustang with tinted windows opened.

King and Violetta stepped out.

Slater walked over and outstretched a hand. King slapped it and pulled him in, and they hugged tight for a single second. That was all they’d allow. They had oversized egos to nurse, after all. Then Slater moved to Violetta and hugged her, too. She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down and whispered, ‘Thank you,’ in his ear.

He didn’t say, You’re welcome.

He didn’t say anything.

He’d never been one to rely on gratitude.

He did things because they were the right things to do.

He went back to the Hyundai and, together with Alexis, helped Beckham out of the back seat. They put him down in the modified wheelchair Alexis had reassembled, and adjusted his position until he seemed comfortable enough. Then Beckham craned his neck to look past them, to meet the gaze of his ex-girlfriend.

Slater and Alexis took the cue, and wandered over to King. All three of them stepped aside and busied themselves with nothing.

Violetta went to Beckham with tears in her eyes.

91

King didn’t try to get within earshot.

He respected Violetta too much for that.

He went with Slater and Alexis to the other side of the Mustang, where they milled about making unnecessary small talk to fill the silence. That way, even if Violetta and Beckham were speaking in raised voices, nothing would float over to them and ruin their privacy.

But he kept shooting glances sideways.

He couldn’t help it.

She was squatting by the wheelchair, staring him right in the eyes, and he was staring right back. They were speaking animatedly. There was no hostility there. He seemed at peace, which contrasted what he’d heard about the grudge the man held. Violetta seemed like she understood.

There were tears, but they weren’t tears of sadness.

The conversation lasted twenty minutes. King didn’t postulate as to what it involved. The decade the pair had spent apart must have exacerbated the issues — at least, that’s what King thought. But he couldn’t get over the lack of animosity, especially from Beckham.

Finally Slater noticed, and muttered between frivolous small talk, ‘I think Beckham forgave her on the way here.’

King said, ‘After all this time?’

‘It was something I said.’

‘What?’

‘“Sometimes doing the right thing is messy.”’

King paused.

Thought about it.

Realised he’d never heard a truer statement.

He said, ‘That’s all it took?’

Now it was Slater’s turn to glance at Beckham. ‘He’s one of the most unique individuals I’ve ever met.’

Alexis nodded her agreement.

King turned to her. ‘How are you holding up?’

‘Better than expected,’ she said. ‘Given the circumstances.’

‘Your family is safe. Alonzo’s work is second to none. He’s thrown a virtual blanket over them. They won’t be found.’

She nodded. ‘I know. It’s not about that.’

King hesitated.

Then he understood.

Before the brief settlement in New York, his life had been a freight train of constant motion for as long as he could remember. As had Slater’s. To them, an upheaval of their surroundings was barely cause for raised eyebrows. Each of them had taken the events of the last few days in their stride — given their pasts, it was only slightly out of the ordinary.

Alexis was a civilian. A few days ago she’d held a job, socialised with work friends, been deeply set in the routine that confines so many to a certain chain of actions, over and over and over again until the day they died.

Which was human nature.

It took a certain level of madness to do what King and Slater did.

And she’d willingly come along for the ride.

That was nothing to scoff at.

King said, ‘It gets easier.’

She reached out and took Slater’s hand. ‘Even if it doesn’t, it doesn’t matter.’

King didn’t immediately respond. He looked all around the parking lot, watched the sun finally dip behind the row of houses opposite the disability home. The golden light dimmed a touch.

He said, ‘How the hell did we end up here?’

Slater said, ‘Could be worse. Could be dead.’

‘Always a plus.’

He turned one final time and saw Violetta exit her crouch, bend down, and touch her forehead to Beckham’s. They both had their eyes closed. One last moment of connection before their new lives began. It didn’t faze King one bit. There was no room in his heart for jealousy.

Never had been.

When they parted, she wheeled him toward the entrance doors.

King, Slater and Alexis all instinctively stepped forward — the