"Right…here…"
Morris's voice had grown downright cheerful when he held up his hand, eyes fixated on something Mike couldn't see.
Rubbing his sweaty hands on the black pullover, the Captain shoved his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, the casual outfit undoubtedly meant to take any attention off his person as they made their way across town.
"There's a shovel leaning against the tree trunk. Go grab it, Stone. It'll help you dig your own grave. We'll just say Carl did it to hide your body."
"Dig my own grave?", Mike had mouthed those words, more or less trying to say out loud what he had thought Morris had ordered him to do, "What's the matter with you? Every time I think you can't stoop any lower, you surprise me yet again."
"I wouldn't want to make myself predictable.", the other man countered arrogantly and stepped closer, while the rest of the gang watched on in undisguised anticipation.
"You're predictable alright. A lot more than you think."
Mike hoped the continuous stabs at Morris's ego would do both, cause him to make mistakes and simultaneously buy them time.
By now they had well exceeded the time window for their check-in, thus alerting the authorities in San Francisco and hopefully coming to their aid within the next couple of hours.
His heart ached tremendously at the loss of his partner, a man barely old enough to start a family and live life to the fullest, build a career within the police force. An innocent life taken for no other reason than to cover up a crime that had already been exposed.
The pain of losing both, Steve and Alex so close to one another cut into his soul, tearing at the few strands of due process and common sense left in his scarred mind, the restraints that would normally stop him from acting irrationally, compulsively at the face of unspeakable heartache.
They were tough restraints, woven over a lifetime of war, one in the Pacific, one against crime in San Francisco. But the edges were beginning to fray, the more his heart and soul let go of the last of his hope that backup would arrive in the nick of time to save his partner.
At least drowning was a peaceful way to go, a voice deep inside said, trying to soothe his unbearable pain, reminding him that some people suffered unimageable pain while dying. Drowning was quiet, peaceful, soothing; even more so when unconscious.
If given the choice, he'd opt for drowning too.
But if he were to leave it up to Morris, being shot to death was currently the preferred choice.
"What? You don't like getting bossed around by another cop, Stone? I said grab that shovel and start digging!"
Morris's words pulled him out of his momentary brooding and Mike glanced up, his eyes having lost the last bit of warmth they harbored, as unrestrained fury, hatred flooded every sinew of his body.
"You're not a cop, Morris.", he hissed in return, walking past the Captain toward the shovel, but not without ramming his shoulder into the other man's, "You're a sociopath. And a coward."
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