Clay took off. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going; he just left. If he was honest, Clay didn’t even have an idea of where he was going.
There was an answer. A shitty one, but an answer at the very least. He traveled north. He hadn’t been around there at all. Who knows? Maybe the cold air could clear his mind. Yeah, that would be good for him.
He went to Washington. The cold air didn’t do much but make him shiver while he waited for the hotel he was staying at to check him in.
Why did he think the cold would be a good thing? Maybe he was just hoping for snow. Snow was pretty cool.
Later that night Clay received a phone call from Apollo.
“Where are you?”
Clay took a deep breath. “…I can’t tell you.”
“And why not?” Apollo was offended, which was understandable, of course.
“Fulbright wants me dead.”
“What? How does that have anything to do with why you can’t tell me where you are?”
“About that…” Clay explained his predicament for what felt like the millionth time.
“Clay, Fulbright can’t even realize the irony in saying ‘in Justice we trust’ when he’s working against my defense team. He can’t possibly have enough foresight to orchestrate a plan that elaborate.”
“He’s not as dense as he presents himself to be. Isn’t it obvious?!”
“You can’t tell me where you are, but you can tell me all of this damning information? What am I even supposed to do with it?”
“Fulbright’s going to realize that I’m gone. When he does, he’s most likely going to ask you where I went.”
“So you’re telling me this so I don’t accidentally snitch on you.”
“A-alright… I can do that. I think.”
Clay grinned. “And that’s why you’re my favorite best friend!”
“I’m you’re only best friend, but I appreciate the gesture.” Apollo took in a deep breath. “So, I guess I should get going. Talk to you later?”
“Yeah, talk to you soon.”
The next day, Clay went out to buy groceries. While he was checking out at the grocery store, someone pulled out a gun. “Nobody move or I’ll shoot!”
Clay rubbed his temples. He did not have to time for this.
The robber took all of the cash from one of the registers. Some jock standing behind Clay stepped forward. “You better return that money.”
The robber looked up and aimed his gun at the other man. “Oh yeah, and who’s gonna make me?!”
The two men got into a back-and-forth argument until the robber’s gun went off. And hit Clay right in the chest.
Of course it was me.
“Oh my god!” While the jock was occupied with Clay, the robber ran off. “Are you okay?”
Clay didn’t respond. His mind was too busy thinking about his plan for the next cycle.
Looks like Washington was off the table.