Tuesday, March 26th

Michael picked Patrick up the next night. Pale and quiet, he gripped the steering wheel as though it was a life preserver. The silence was worse than Michael's usual whining, so Patrick asked, "How was the trip?"

Michael didn't take his eyes off the road. "If by trip, you mean slaughter, then it was perfect. We marched into their den and we. we fucking killed them." He tightened his hold until his knuckles turned white. "I fucking killed people, ...