Well, shit, Sebastian thought, and reached down and helped Link to his feet.

“My mother?” Sebastian said, propping Link back up on the rear bumper. “She was a real religious woman. I grew up with God from the Old Testament, the one who was constantly pissed off at everything that was happening in His world, and it was His—that grouchy ol’ prick didn’t let you forget it for a second. Still, back then? He was more involved, you know? Seemed to really relish playing the strict father who came home and was like, ‘What shit have you done now?’”

Sebastian sat on the bumper next to Link. “Then He sends His own kid down, hoping Jesus will somehow drill it into our heads how to live our lives, and what do we do? We crucify him. Jesus is hanging there in agony, right? Looks to the sky and says, ‘Why hast thou forsaken me?’ but what he’s really saying is, ‘After all the shit I’ve done for you, all the sacrifices I made—this is how you thank me? Really?’”

Sebastian shook his head, looking up at the cloudless blue sky. “What always struck me was that his father either wasn’t listening or just didn’t give a shit anymore and split, which is kind of sick when you really stop to think about it. Fathers split all the time. I get it—mine did—but if your kid’s in agony and you have the power to stop it and you don’t? You have to be a real sick son of a bitch to do that—am I right?”

Link, who had been sobbing quietly, wiped at his face even though he didn’t have any tears.

“I’d sit there in church,” Sebastian said, “listening to the priest going on and on about God’s love and mercy, and I’d be staring at Jesus all life-sized and hanging on the cross and thinking, Well, I’m screwed. He let his own kid die in agony, so what chance do I have?” He turned to Link. “That’s why people need to stick together, help each other out, be compassionate. Because He sure as hell isn’t going to do it for us.”

Sebastian stood and reached into his jeans pocket, came back with a small folding knife. He popped Link’s bindings, then handed him the other sandwich and another bottle of water and said, “Maybe you’re right about Paul using you as a diversion. Problem for me is that it’s created, you know, reasonable doubt about your loyalties.”

“Please, you’ve got to—”

“I do. I do believe you. But I’m still going to have to let you go. I can only work with people I trust one hundred percent. And I can’t trust you one hundred percent. Not your fault, okay. But I’ll always have that nagging doubt in the back of my mind, and I can’t have that type of distraction, especially given everything that’s going on. Stand up.”

Link did, reluctantly, his attention locked on the knife gripped in Sebastian’s hand.