Theo approached her slowly. He’d won. Abruptly, a light flashed to his left, and he felt a thud near his ribs and a ripping in his back. He yowled deeply but then felt another thud, then a rip near his lungs, curtailing his scream. He collapsed onto the forest floor, squirming, amazed at how two instances of pain could rivet his entire body. Wasn’t pain supposed to be local? Footsteps approached, but Theo didn’t move. The ground was cool. He liked it there.

Tilly and Rick crouched over him, their faces obscured, their bodies agitated, hot. Why so serious? Theo considered asking, wondering if he was clever enough to pull it off. They spoke first, their words about him but not to him. So rude, Theo thought.

“You shot an unarmed teen. What the fuck is your problem? Are rights just a concept to you?”

“He’s a terrorist. He has no rights. Plus, he assaulted me and ran into the woods. He could have been armed.”

“With what? Handcuffs?”

“It doesn’t matter. Not only are we post-Tsarnaev, but the details will be classified for thirty years anyway. Back up off me, Tilly.”

“He’s not dead,” Tilly declared, her warm fingers gliding over Theo’s neck. “We need to evacuate him.” Theo prayed she didn’t move her hand.

Rick didn’t respond. Theo imagined him crossing his arms, thinking. He seemed like a thinking man. A breeze swept over Theo’s body, unnaturally cool. He didn’t like it.

“We didn’t mean to hurt anyone. We just wanted to have our say in the city,” Theo said.

“Fuck him,” Rick said, addressing Tilly. “Fuck him and all his friends. Wasting my time with graffiti. There’s a war on terror going on, and these kids want to have style wars. Let’s wrap this up and find his friends. ”

“This won’t be ‘wrapped up’ until we get a medevac. You should have thought of that before you shot him!”

Another thud rocked Theo’s torso and exploded out of his back, the ground beneath him suddenly hot, his skin sizzling and numb all at once. He watched Tilly stand up and dissolve into the darkness, her heat gone.

° ° °

Tilly flicked on her flashlight, searching for the stolen phone. A notification cut her search short, the phone springing to consciousness with a loud chirp. It was to her left. She retrieved it. An unlisted number had replied, “Love you too.” Tilly read the three-message exchange multiple times, her eyes avoiding the boy’s still body.

Rick returned with crime scene tape. Tilly shone her flashlight on the body and rolled up her sleeves, wondering if Rick had just been caught in the moment or if he had planned to shoot the kid. She didn’t care enough to ask him. Their partnership worked better in silence.