Manny turned to stare at him. He looked shocked, but—Roland noted with satisfaction—the statement had disrupted his panic. “Wh-what? What the…”

“I mean, give or take a handful,” Roland continued. “I burned my brain’s kill counter out with Krokodil and cheap vodka a while back.”

“Why would you tell me this? Why would you think this would help?”

“Because,” Roland said, “we’re about to go into a very dangerous place together. You’re scared you’re going to die. And I want you to know, however many armed nutjobs are in that city, I can murder them. All of them.”

Manny stared at him. He still looked terrified, and vaguely pissed, but his heart rate was steadier. His breathing had slowed. Roland declared his gambit a success.

“Ok,” the kid finally said. “That’s actually comforting. Thank you.”

There was silence for a beat, and then Roland spoke again.

“That all said, I’d prefer not to kill anyone. I’d really prefer that. I was on a pretty good no-murder streak until a couple days back. I’m trying to stay on the wagon. So, uh, talk well. Be a good face-man. This’ll all be easier if I don’t have to commit murder.”

Manny looked a bit nervous again, but he popped the car into drive and rolled back onto the highway.

“I’ll do my best,” he said.

They were an hour outside of Dallas when they hit the first checkpoint, and the Kingdom’s guards ordered them out of the truck. Roland stepped out with his hands up. Manny did the same. The guards scanned them, verified their status as Republic citizens and then the questioning started.

“What brings you back to the Heavenly Kingdom?” their leader, a fat man with a Kalashnikov, asked Manny.

“We heard about the amnesty,” Manny replied, “and we thought it sounded good. We want to live under the rule of God.”

“Hmm,” the fat man grunted. “So you’re both good, God-fearing men then?”

“Yes sir,” Manny nodded. “Of course. And Praise be to God for the victories you’ve won here.”

The fat man sniffed at the air and looked over to his partner.

“I’m not wild about another spic in here. Hansen, you think we need any more Mexicans?”

Hansen shrugged, “Orders say the faithful are all welcome.”

“Yeah,” the fat guy continued, “if they’re faithful.” He turned back to Manny. “Why’d it take a couple of devout men like yourselves so long to make a break for the Heavenly Kingdom? We’ve been at this fight for a while, y’know.”

“I, uh, I mean we were scared, and we weren’t sure what to believe–”