"Sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in heavenly peace. Shepherds quake at the-"
"Do you mind?" Reiben asks the carolers impatiently before barreling through them. He'd been standing in front of them for three minutes, and they'd probably assumed he was listening to their songs. In fact, for three full minutes, I had tricked myself into believing he was listening. He wasn't, though.
He was just trying to get to his front door.
"Sight. Glories stream from heaven afar…"
I follow Reiben to the front door as the carolers resume their singing.
"Why do they do that again?" I ask as we stomp up the stairs. Stopping at room 13, Reiben pulls out a key.
"They'll tell you they're trying to 'spread Christmas cheer,' but they really just want to scam you out of your money," Reiben says as he opens the door.
I shake my head. New York is crazy.
It's been a few weeks since Gallaso got out of his cell. For a few days, I actually believed Reiben. Thought that maybe he had found a miracle. But Gallaso isn't anyone special. He's just another prisoner.
As I glance down the street, I think about the day I came to New York. The whole way up here, I was waiting for the rich city my father had always described excitedly. What I saw was a filthy city with suspicious-looking people hanging around every corner, smoking. Reiben must've seen my face, because he laughed.
"Relax, man," he said. "This is just the Bronx. We're going to Brooklyn."
Brooklyn is better than the Bronx, but still loud, obnoxious, and filthy. I thought I would hate it her.
But I like it.
The truth is, I couldn't stand the silence. That's why I left Tennessee. I'd been waiting the whole war to go home and just get some peace and quiet. But I'd find myself fidgeting at the dinner table, my eyes flickering around the room, my ears ringing. I'd grown accustomed to the noises of war, and suddenly I was thrown into this quiet house, where even the smallest outburst of noise made me jump.
But the people in this city are just as foul-mouthed as soldiers, and the noise is horrendous.
But the best part is, the people here could care less about you. They never ask questions, no matter how suspicious you look. And they never, ever ask how you're doing. Back in Tennessee, everyone knew me. People were constantly pulling me aside to ask me how I was and to tell me what a good thing I'd done, fighting for our country and all. I used to believe them. Only, now, I'm not so sure.
All I know is, I don't want to die slowly, yelling, all torn up and mutilated, with no one to help me. And I have to believe that the German soldiers I shot felt the same way.
I see the same things in Reiben. He came down to Tennessee for a few days before I moved here, and he absolutely hated the quiet. He'd shuffle his feet around, cough, and talk nonstop just to fill up the silence. But I get the feeling he hated it for a different reason than me. I think he just couldn't stand to be alone with his memories.
"Shit," Reiben says. I turn around and find him stepping in dog crap.
"Rebel!" he shouts. The big dog comes slinking into the room. He knows how this works.
Seeing Rebel look at him with those big, pitiful eyes, Reiben gives up.
"Go get your leash," he mumbles. Rebel bounds off happily, returning moments later with a leash.
"Uh… you know, I would, but Rebel wants to walk," Reiben says, pointing to the unpleasant pile on the floor.
I roll my eyes, but I clean it up anyway.
Rebel still hasn't gotten used to being stuck inside all day. It wasn't that hard to get him over here, actually. All Reiben had to do was convince a couple of his friends from the navy to hide a possibly disease-ridden dog on the boat we came back on.
Reiben and Rebel leave, and I watch them from the window. Reiben wipes the bottom of his shoe in the snow, glances down at it, and keeps walking, even though I can see from the third story window that his shoe is still pretty dirty.
They walk down the street, snow falling softly around them, and I'm about to go grab something to eat when I see Reiben freeze in front of an alley. He looks like he's listening to something.
My heart skips a beat. Is it Elizabeth?
I look at the street. It's getting dark out, and the carolers already left. There's no one else outside, except the men that hang around in the shadows, chain smoking.
Still in my uniform, I dash down the stairs and out onto the street. Silently appearing beside Reiben, I hear something I'd hoped I'd never have to hear again.
"Get away from me."
It's a woman's voice, and she sounds scared.
"What? You think you can get away? Come here, baby."
I clench my hands into fists as I hear the man talk.
Reiben looks at me.
"He sounds big," he whispers. "He might have a gun."
"No! Please, somebody help me!"
At the sound of the woman's voice, Rebel pulls at the leash and growls softly. Reiben tries to pull him away and calm him down, but then there's some shuffling in the alley and Rebel loses it.
He throws himself around wildly, barking and trying to get loose.
Reiben, horrified, tries to pull Rebel away, but his leash breaks and he runs into the alley. Reiben cringes, waiting for a gunshot, but all we can hear is Rebel growling softly again.
"Rebel?" Reiben calls. He glances at me.
We count to three, then step into the alley, side-by-side.
The man jumps and points a gun at us, his hand shaking.
"Calm down, Valvasorri," someone with a Brooklyn accent says from behind us. "These men just want their dog back, right fellas?"
Reiben turns around to face the man and nods tensely.
"See Valvasorri, they won't say nothin' to the cops. They understand, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. This is our god-given right, Valvasorri, and every guy knows that. So why don't you just put the gun down, and let these two gentleman leave with their dog."
Valvassori nods and lowers the gun obediently. Reiben grabs Rebel's collar and drags him out of the alley. He nods as he passes the man who saved us, not even giving a second glance to the woman in the alley. I do.
She hates us, I can tell. And I don't blame her. But behind all that anger, she's scared. They're going to kill her.
I tear my eyes away and follow Reiben back to the apartment, numbly climb the steps, and stare at him coldly as he locks the door and closes the blinds on the window.
"Are you gonna call the police?" I ask when he's finished.
"Are you crazy?" he asks incredulously. "No way!"
"Then what are you gonna do?"
He stares at me.
"Are you serious?" he asks.
I nod.
"I'm not gonna do anything!" he says.
"How can you stand here and let them do that to her?"
"It's not my problem!" he says. "They don't just pull random people off the street in the middle of the day, Jackson! Either that lady was stupid enough to go walking around in the dark by herself, or she's letting him do that to her!"
All of a sudden, I'm reminded again of the Bronx. I had always assumed that New York City was an exciting place, what with the Statue of Liberty and Central Park and all. But there's this whole other side of the city that no one ever bothers to tell you about. There are poor people roaming the streets and murderers and drug dealers on ever corner that everyone seems to conveniently forget.
"This city is unbelievable," I murmur. "You people let this stuff happen right in front of you, because it doesn't matter as long as you don't get hurt… that's the way you were with Elizabeth, too."
Reiben slams me up against the door.
"We helped her," he hisses. "And look what happened! You really want to go through that again? Don't you have enough secrets?"
Do I have enough secrets?
I never used to keep secrets before that sniper rifle was put in my hands. It's the same as lying, and I never wanted anything to do with it.
But then I started realizing things, like how it's better not to tell your mom that her only son is a murderer, better to just let her keep on believing what I told her. That I never fired a single shot in this war.
And then I thought, why tell Elizabeth that she'll be sent to jail and probably wind up on death row for crimes against her country? I mean, she and that gang almost made us lose the whole war. No, better to just let her go on believing we'll take care of her.
And then, of course, there's prison. I told Reiben that I wanted to be a prison guard because it's the only thing I can imagine myself doing in this city. But that's a lie.
I only wanted this job so that when Elizabeth does get put on death row, I can try to save her, and maybe make up for… last time.
When I couldn't save her.
All of a sudden I'm beating myself up again. Why didn't I get there in time? How did I not see it coming?
And how come I pulled the trigger twice?
Rebel whines, and Reiben, realizing what he's doing, lets go of me and backs away.
"If you stop them, they'll go after you, and they'll kill you," he says.
"But I have to, Reiben," I say. He understands that more than anyone, I think.
He glares at me before going to his bedroom. He comes back a few seconds later with two pistols. He hands one to me, then puts the second on the counter.
"You're not coming?" I ask quietly.
He solemnly shakes his head.
I back out the door and dart down the steps. I can hear scuffling in the alley, and suddenly I feel sick.
The rest of us had enough common sense to know that it was a bad idea. But Elizabeth wasn't like the rest of us.
Suddenly, I sense Reiben coming up behind me. I turn around and give him a questioning look.
"'Never shall I fail my comrades'- didn't you read the Ranger Creed, bible boy?" he whispers.
Smiling, I inch closer to the alley.
"It'll work," Elizabeth shouted over the noise of the makeshift bar.
"It better," Miller said.
"Take out those bodyguards," Elizabeth whispered as we entered a quiet hallway. There were two men standing in front of a closed door.
"Are you sure this is gonna work?" Reiben asked her.
"How could it not?" she asked. We could all smell the alcohol on her breath.
"How many beers?" Miller asked.
"I don't drink," she said as she pulled an explosive out of her pack.
"How many beers?" Miller asked again. She finished counting her explosives before glancing up at Miller and speaking.
"...One," she muttered. "One beer, I swear."
I searched for that familiar look in her eyes, that mischievous glint that tells me she's lying. But there was none.
Miller analyzed her face for a few seconds before tightening his grip on his M-1 Garand. The rest of us just stared blankly at Elizabeth.
"You heard her," Miller said. "We're taking out those bodyguards."
"But, Captain… she was drinking," Reiben said. It wasn't really that much beer, but we all knew Elizabeth already had bad judgment. And now it was tainted with alcohol?
Elizabeth stared at Reiben in shock, looking hurt. She'd thought he was on her side.
Miller looked at the rest of us, could see we were all thinking the same thing, and sighed.
"Look," he said in a tired voice. "I can't make you trust Elizabeth. If you want to leave, then… go ahead."
Had it been any other mission, we would've followed Captain Miller to hell. And I think he knew that. But this mission was different. This mission went beyond everything we'd been told, everything we'd seen up to this point. In this mission, our enemy wore the same uniform and spoke the same language. In this mission, the men we were killing were our friends.
It hadn't taken Elizabeth long to figure out what the Five Points gang was doing here with Al Capone. And once she had, we had systematically destroyed every makeshift gang hideout in France we came across, searching for Capone. That's what the explosives were for.
We were killing members of the Italian mafia, and somehow the Irish mafia had gotten mixed up in the middle of it, sometimes on our side, sometimes not. That made anyone with an Irish name a possible enemy, and anyone with an Italian a suspect to be interviewed at gunpoint, especially if they came from New York or Chicago.
The hardest part is that most of them are part of the American army. It's not easy to shoot the men you went to basic with.
Elizabeth hadn't trusted Caparzo until the day he bled to death in the rain, shot down by a sniper who Elizabeth recognized as Anthony Privitera, an assassin handpicked by Capone.
Elizabeth is convinced Privitera didn't shoot Caparzo in the head while he was dying on the ground simply because he'd wanted to watch Caparzo suffer. Reiben and Mellish were quick to agree with her. But I saw Privitera's scared face through my Springfield, and I like to think that Privitera hadn't shot Caparzo in the head because he, like us, had hoped that the soldier might make it.
Not even Upham agreed with me on that one.
I hear quiet sobbing in the alley and move faster. I don't think I'd be able to take it if I got there too late… again.
"I trust Elizabeth," Upham said, surprising the rest of us. Upham, the scared little Corporal, Upham, the rational mapmaker, Upham, the one who beat the rest of us when it came to proving our loyalty.
Wade stared at Elizabeth curiously before speaking, as if he was trying to figure out why she'd helped us for this long.
"I trust Elizabeth," he said after a minute.
"I trust her," Horvath said.
"Me, too," Mellish said.
I stared at Elizabeth for a second, then nodded.
"Me, too."
Elizabeth glanced at Reiben, a hopeful look in her eyes.
"Which one do you want me to shoot first?" he asked her. The most amazing smile spread across her face and she stuffed the explosives back in her bag.
"I've got a better idea," she said. "Don't take the guards out until I close the door, okay?"
We nodded, then watched, horrified, as she threw herself around the hallway, occasionally grabbing onto the wall like she needed to balance herself.
"How drunk is she?" Reiben hissed.
"She's faking it," Russell said from behind us. We turned around.
"Where've you been?" Miller asked.
"There was something I had to pick up," he said absently, watching Elizabeth stop in front of the bodyguards.
"I need to see… the guy in that room," she slurred.
The men smirked at each other.
"I think he wants to see you, too," one of them said as the other opened the door.
"Hey, Ramazzo!" he shouted. "There's a drunk girl here, says she wants to see you."
I could just make out a shadowy figure sitting in a chair, smoke curling up around his face. He took a long drag from his cigar before speaking.
"Is she pretty?" he asked slowly.
One of the men glanced at Elizabeth.
"She's not bad," he said. "Kind of ordinary… but very drunk."
The man inside took another long drag.
"Bring her in," he said in a bored voice.
"What are they doing?" Mellish asked in a strange voice, though we all knew what was happening.
Before we could stop him, though, we saw Elizabeth point her M-1 Garand at the man and kick the door shut with her foot.
"Hey!" the guards shouted, realizing they'd been tricked. But as they reached for the doorknob, Miller and Horvath stepped into the hallway, pointing their weapons at the men.
"Touch that door and we'll kill you," Miller said calmly.
"Get away from me," we heard Elizabeth say in an annoyed tone from inside the door. "You think I came in here alone? There's twenty guys outside the door, and another fifty surrounding the place."
"… I think you're bluffing, little girl," the man said in a creepy voice.
"Get away from me!" Elizabeth said, her voice cracking in fear.
We all knew the man had somehow taken her gun. There was nothing else she could do unless she took out the explosives. But none of us thought she'd actually be daring enough start the unpredictable explosives while she was trapped in the room. I wish I could tell you we were right. But fear does strange things to people.
"Get off of me!" she shouted. "Help! Captain Miller!"
As he heard her shout his name, Captain Miller shot the first guard. Horvath took out the second one. But at the sound of the gunshots, a crowd of American soldiers came running into the hallway. They were unarmed, and a number of them were drunk. The thing is, those guys were actually on our side. And that was enough for me to put my gun down. The rest of the squad did the same thing. Miller reached for the door to help Elizabeth, but to the soldiers it must've looked like he wanted a turn in that room with her. And unfortunately, these particular soldiers were decent men. They simultaneously blocked the door and attacked us, punching, kicking, anything to get us on the ground.
As the others took down the men in front of them, Reiben and I weaved our way to the middle, until we were standing in front of the men blocking the door.
Reiben took the smaller guy, easily sending him to the ground, where he moaned and held his nose. Reiben and I glanced at each other. We'd both been there.
Together we turned and faced the 6' 8", extremely muscled man. But he looked like he'd had quite a few beers and no one was as angry as Reiben at that moment. Reiben shoved the guy aside and threw the door open.
Elizabeth was lying on the floor, kicking Ramazzo, who was on top of her, trying to pull her clothes off. As we watched, Elizabeth stopped struggling. She just was just lying there, crying, as Ramazzo smiled and reached for her.
No matter how long I live, I don't think I'll ever hear anything that could make me feel as sick as I felt when Ramazzo turned to us and spoke.
"You want her next?"
As Reiben reached for his pistol, Elizabeth grabbed an explosive she had already started and stuffed it down Ramazzo's suit. He immediately jumped up, grabbing at his suit, trying to get it out.
Reiben grabbed Elizabeth's hand and helped her up. She started for the door, but Ramazzo grabbed her arm and threw her into the farthest corner of the room, then tossed the explosive after her.
In a split-second, the four of us were on the floor. Elizabeth was lying on the floor, rolling from side to side, holding the left side of her face and screaming.
But all I could hear was a loud ringing noise as Ramazzo tried to stand up. I barely heard the gun as Reiben shot him. It was still ringing when one of the soldiers came into the room, trying to help us. It was still ringing when my pistol went off in my hand. And it was still ringing when Reiben shot the next soldier who came in, a guy trying to help the soldier I'd shot. I didn't even realize I was holding the gun until it went off a second time, as another soldier entered the room. The pistol was hot in my hands when I threw it across the room. I turned just as Reiben shot the fourth soldier to come in, and I saw in slow motion Reiben stare at the gun in his hand as if it was poisonous.
And every man in that room would tell you it was.
"Sorry, man," Valvasorri says to me as I enter the alley, Reiben standing next to me. "I already finished. I wouldn't have shot her if I'd known you wanted a turn."
I stare down at the floor, but instead of seeing the scared, black-haired, 20 year old dead woman who's lying in the snow, I see a cocky, blonde, 15 year old girl with an eye patch.
That could've been her. That could've been Elizabeth.
Did I want a turn?
Before I understand what I'm doing, Reiben and I shoot. Valvasorri falls to the ground, a confused look on his face, as Reiben and I glance at each other, then tear off down the street. We run up the stairs of 57 Worth Street for the third time that night. What we've done doesn't really hit me until I'm safely inside.
Shaking, I fall to the ground. I drop my head in my hands and just sit there, waiting for someone to come pounding on the door so that they can drag us away.
But nothing happens, and when I look up again, Reiben is sitting against the door, holding his head in his hands and shaking, just like me.
What had we done? Valvasorri didn't deserve to die, did he? A lot of people do that here, why did he have to die for it? And why did I have to be the one who killed him? I don't mean to kill him. I didn't want to kill him. But when I was in that alley… instinct took over. When I was in that alley, all I could think was that if I didn't shoot that German, he would shoot me. But he was American.
I stared at the four men Reiben and I had shot. Looking back, I wish that the ringing in my ears had lasted just a little longer, because when Wade came into the room and stared in horror at the five dead men on the floor, I heard what he said with perfect ears.
"What did you do?" he said in a strange, hoarse voice.
A year later, I still don't know what I did. All I know is that one second the explosive went off, and the next second I shot the man who walked in the room to help us.
I don't know what happened then, but I do know what happened after. I know that after I shot them, the first soldier lived, but the one who came in to help him bled to death. I know that I pray for them every day, and I think about their parents whenever I see mine. And I know that every day I wish that the first soldier who came through the door had killed me before I had the chance to shoot his friend.
I stared at the blood all over the room as Wade saw Elizabeth.
"No…" he whimpered. "No."
He walked slowly to the other end of the room, where Elizabeth was lying, staring up at the ceiling, not moving. I don't remember if I thought she was dead, but I know Wade did. So when she turned her head slightly to look at him with eyes that clearly weren't seeing anything, all the blood left his face.
Because as it turns out, hell isn't watching the people you love get hurt. It's walking into the room when it's already too late to stop it from happening.
Still shaking, I pray softly and ask for forgiveness.
Ramazzo hadn't gotten a chance to hurt Elizabeth the way he'd meant to. He'd taken her eye, though. Wade had said we were lucky, that it could've been worse. The explosives were unpredictable. Sometimes they create big explosions, sometimes they create small ones, and sometimes they don't go off at all. This one had only created a small explosion, and Ramazzo, hurrying to get the explosive out of his hand, had tossed it too far away from Elizabeth to do much damage. Shrapnel in her eye, or something.
Initially after the explosion, Elizabeth couldn't see anything. Wade said something about it being shock-related, but I think she just didn't want to see.
Wade found some more medics and they did what they could with her eye, I guess. Or at least that's what they said. Seems to me they just looked at it and gave up.
Elizabeth had curled up in the corner of that bloody room and just sat there, tears streaming down her face. I don't think she was crying about what Ramazzo had done, though. I think she just wanted to see.
Wade sat in that corner with her for hours. Just sat there and held her. With Wade's arms around her, Elizabeth eventually calmed down. Wade kept whispering to her. None of us knew what he was saying, just that it seemed to make her feel better. But we all heard the last thing he said to her. She looked up at him with soft, hurt eyes, and what he said still haunts me today.
"Miracles are closer than you think," he whispered softly.
And that was all it took. Elizabeth stood up and found an eye patch. She pulled it over her eye, and then she just got over it.
Elizabeth had never been the kind of person to spend a lot of time brooding. I think she just told herself that Ramazzo hadn't done anything to her, that she could still see out of one eye, and that she might die in a few days anyway, so what did it matter?
When I look up again, Reiben is still sitting there with his head in his hands. Rebel comes up to Reiben and nudges him. Reiben slowly lifts his head up and stares into Rebel's eyes. Rebel looks at Reiben, then at me, then at the door. He sniffs the air and glances around like he's trying to find someone. He's been doing that ever since he got here, but it isn't until now that I realize what he's looking for.
Rebel whimpers and looks at Reiben, as if he can help him find what he's looking for.
"I know, Rebel," Reiben murmurs. "She left me behind, too."
My eyes sting, and I look away.
She left us all behind.
Just then the phone rings, and the three of us jump. Reiben slowly stands up and grabs the phone.
"Hello?" he says, his voice shaking. "What? What? How did… yeah, we'll look."
He slams the phone down, tangling the cord in the process. Then he looks at me grimly.
"Gallaso got out," he says.
I just look at him.
"No, out," he says again.
"You mean…?"
"Out of the prison," he says, reaching for the pistol he'd dropped on the floor.
I snatch my own pistol off the ground and follow Reiben out the door.
"Where do you think he went?" I ask.
"Probably to the train station," he answers as we step onto the street.
"Give, and it shall be given to you."
Reiben freezes.
"What did you say?" he whispers to me.
"I didn't say anything. It came from the alley."
Reiben looks at me. Did someone find the body already? Whoever had talked was quoting the bible. But neither of us really felt like going back into the alley.
Reiben shrugs, then inches down the wall towards the alley for the second time that night. As we get closer, we can hear shuffling again.
Reiben and I count to three, then step into the alley, side-by-side.
"That's sick," Reiben murmurs. There's a man in the alley, leaning over Valvasorri. The man is scooping Valvasorri's blood into a jar. Suddenly, I feel like I might puke.
The man, hearing Reiben's voice, slowly turns his head to look at us. Reiben raises his pistol. But there's something familiar about the guy.
"Gallaso?" Reiben asks in disbelief.
Gallaso stares at him, a strange look in his eyes. Like a whirlpool. It just drags you under, deeper and deeper until you feel like you'll never see the sky again.
"…We didn't mean to," Reiben whispers, looking terrified. "We weren't trying to kill him, I swear."
I stare at Reiben. I don't think I've ever seen him look like this. Except for the day Elizabeth left, the day we searched for her everywhere.
Reiben looks as lost as he did the day Elizabeth Fletcher disappeared off the face of the earth.
It's something about Gallaso's eyes. They make you think that maybe if you just tell him everything… tell him the truth, maybe they'll save you from the whirlpool, take you back to the surface again.
Or maybe they'll take you home.
"Great men are not always wise," Gallaso says in a husky voice that doesn't sound anything like him. That's also from the bible.
This time, when he speaks, Gallaso looks right at me.
"Destruction cometh; and they shall seek peace, and there shall be none."
I feel my body freeze.
And then something in Gallaso's eyes change. He looks at Reiben and throws his hands up behind his head, his eyes wide in terror. Reiben signals me to go back to the apartment and call the prison, so I run, not wanting to leave him alone for too long.
By the time I get back, nothing's changed. I stand next to Reiben and tell him the night guards will be here in a minute.
"Ughhh," someone groans. My eyes flicker to Valvasorri. As I watch, the dead man slowly pushes himself up and turns around. He doesn't see us, just walks out of the alley and into the street.
"Shit," Reiben murmurs. He takes a step to his left and knocks the jar of blood over with his foot. Just as the glass shatters, there's a thud in the street.
I walk out of the alley, and there's Valvasorri, lying on the ground, as dead as he was a minute ago.
"NO!" Gallaso shrieks.
Reiben jumps, aiming his pistol at Gallaso again.
I back away, down the street. This can't be happening. It just can't.
But as I get farther away from the alley, I see Gallaso run out of it. Reiben follows him in a daze, too shocked to shoot.
From where I'm standing, I see Gallaso sink to his knees and lean over Valvasorri. He's whispering something, something I can't hear. And then he's sobbing, his tears falling over Valvasorri.
I sigh in relief as the prison truck comes around the corner. The night guards jump out, handcuff Gallaso and stuff him in the back.
"Hey," Mikowski says to me with a nod. "Thanks, man."
"No problem," I murmur.
He gets in the car and they drive off.
Reiben, shaking now, backs away from Valvasorri. He drags his feet through the snow for a few steps, then spins around and walks purposefully down the street. He walks right by me, then up the steps and into the apartment building. Slowly, I follow him. But just as I step into the door, out of the corner of my eye I see Valvasorri get up and saunter down the street in the opposite direction. Reiben must see him, too, because he freezes in the doorway.
"It was the way we shot him," I say slowly, hoarsely. "He was never dead."
Reiben looks at me, really looks at me. And it seems to me he sees a whole lot more than he saw the last time he looked at me.
Maybe it sounds like I'm trying to make Elizabeth out to be the good guy. Well, I'm not. Because she wasn't. She was a villain, in every sense of the word. Maybe it sounds like I'm trying to make you feel bad for her. Well, I'm not doing that, either. Because Elizabeth didn't lose any more than the rest of us did in that war. I mean, it must've been scary having Ramazzo on top of her, but it wasn't nearly as bad as what Caparzo must have felt, bleeding to death on the ground. Elizabeth Fletcher is the last person on earth you should feel bad for. Elizabeth wasn't a gentle person. She'd beat up anyone who was weaker than her. She wasn't smart, either.
But she was loyal.
"We killed him," Reiben says. "Gallaso brought him back."
"Why would Gallaso bring Valvasorri back? If he did bring someone back- which he didn't- don't you think he would've brought that dead woman back?" I ask.
"Elizabeth got a second chance. Why shouldn't Valvasorri?"
"Because Elizabeth didn't change. She's still the same coward she was before."
I go back to the apartment, leaving Reiben on the stoop. He doesn't follow me. He sinks down in the snow, because he knows just as much as I do that Elizabeth could've been so much more. She could've saved everything. But we let her walk away.
"Destruction cometh; and they shall seek peace, and there shall be none."
That's what Gallaso said. What does it mean, though? Is it a warning?
And then it hits me that maybe I'm right. Maybe Valvasorri was never dead. But maybe Reiben's right, too. Maybe the reason Valvasorri was never dead… is Gallaso.
What if a miracle isn't something that happens to you?
What if it's something that doesn't?