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(Catch up, here)

I start to shake less and less as I walk home; taking a long route to make sure I’m not being followed. I don’t notice anything out of the ordinary, the streets are pretty empty. I’m trying to pay attention the best I can, but it’s hard. I couldn’t help get the impression that Grampy isn’t who I thought he was all these years. Sure, I knew he was in the organization, but that didn’t change the ultimate core of who he was. Did it? I wasn’t so sure anymore. How can anyone be a part of the organization and not be fundamentally changed? That included me. It’s obvious the organization wants him for something more than what they’re telling me. But why? It’s not like I can just go up to Grampy and say, “Okay, what’s the deal? Lay all your cards on the table.” Because then I’d have to do the same thing. And I’m not ready for that. What a dark secret is he keeping locked away that the organization is willing to go this far for? Then a thought strikes me, and I don’t like it. Grampy’s the enemy. He can’t be the enemy. Enemies are bad people, and even if Grampy is a bad person, I’ve seen the good in him. Everyone has good if you look hard enough. You just have to be willing to dig. He’d be willing to dig for me. I hunch my shoulders near my ears and dig my hands further into my pockets. Night is in full swing and the cold is picking up. It’s not too bad, but cool enough to make me want to get off the streets. The more I get to thinking about it, the more I realize that we all need to be truthful with each other. I need to find out what Grampy has that the organization wants so badly. Then I have to make the decision if that knowledge makes him a friend or foe. I have to decide if my assignment still stands and I need to turn him in. I hate that the thought even crossed my mind, but the organization is all about making decisions and carrying out projects that benefit the greater good. I try not to think about the fact that the greater good has always been in their favor. I pull out my phone and hit speed dial six. It rings a few times before my brother picks up. “What?” Jack says in a husky voice. I’ve woken him. He won’t be pleasant. “It’s me,” I say with a heavy sigh. “Yeah, and?” “Snap out of the mood you’re in, we have an issue.” “Don’t wake me up at this ungodly hour and you won’t get this mood.” His voice is starting to wake up a little more. “What’s the issue?” “I’ve found him.” I’m only a few blocks away from Ruthy’s apartment. “Where was he?” “I can’t tell you that, not yet.” “Okay…” he draws out the word. “I don’t know if I can go through with it. I don’t know if I can turn him in. What if the organization’s wrong? What if he’s not the enemy?” “June,” Jack says in a clipped tone, “he killed dad. Of course he’s the enemy.”

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