by Guy Harrison
***
As I limp toward my sleeping quarters, I feel the eyes of the many gawkers standing on both sides of the hallway. To my left, Jimenez and Hamilton glance at me before she lowers her head and he looks away.
Darling leans against a wall as she stands next to my bedroom door, her eyes moistening. “Are you okay?” she says, reaching out a hand.
With my left hand holding my police shirt to my face, I wave her off with my free hand and open the door to my room. I enter the chamber and keep the light off as I feel my way to the bed and sit down.
As the pain in my face subsides, my thoughts turn to Ronni. I attempt to envision her smiling face but I can’t. Instead, the only memory I can conjure is that of her on the doomed train, uttering the phrase “justice will be done.”
Never minding the crowd outside my room, I lay face down on the bed and bury my face in the bloody shirt.
Part II: The Agents of Change
