Chapter 87

It was open all day and night, on the account of constantly rotating guard shifts. The smell of beer had soaked into the floorboards and covered every surface. Not even the owner’s constant cleaning of his counter could keep away the smell of alcohol.

Instead of being armed with Myrtle’s script, I found a note in my coat pocket telling me that even if she wrote me a speech, it would come out ‘apocalyptically awful.’ She’d scribbled a ‘follow your heart!’ with a fancy ink heart on the end. Thanks, but my heart got me into this mess. I didn’t have any faith that following it would get me out.

That’s nice Mur-Mur, but I am not actually that confident, nor that good at speaking to large crowds. So here I am, staring down at least a dozen different men, some of them who decided to bring their guard armor and a few weapons. They likely just got off duty too.

“So did my brother tell you guys what’s going on?” I began, then I heard a holler in the back.