Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Chapter Four

The rain hadn't ceased throughout the night. In fact, I think it only started raining harder. The ground beneath my feet splashes with each hurried step I take. During my night-long planning, I had decided on going to James first with this information. I started second guessing if going to FEDRA would be the right thing to do, I began thinking that maybe if I reported it I would become the primary suspect and be charged with the crime. Though I know I am innocent, FEDRA doesn't always do a great job of investigating things. Plus, if the investigation gets messy, James might want to also take a break from smuggling until things die down.

I climb the stairs to James' place and knock heavily on the door. My weight nervously shifts from my left to right as I wait for him to answer. To my surprise, his wife opens the door, seeming to be shocked to see me on the other side. I must look deranged. I didn't sleep, I'm soaked from the rain, and I know my face isn't hiding my stress. Thankfully, she lets me in without a question. James' wife Theresa knows the business we're in and has no interest being involved, she typically leaves us alone.

"James!" She calls him out and gives me a curt smile before retreating to her bedroom. I give her a nod of gratitude and wait by the front door for James. He walks around the corner only seconds later, eyebrows shooting up once he sees me.

"What's goin' on?" His voice is serious. He knows that if I bothered to show up here, especially after our last conversation, that something is wrong. I rarely ever come by his place, mainly out of respect for Theresa. I swallow hard and take a breath.

"I found a body last night on the way back from area two. Young boy, maybe mid teens." I say, trying to keep my collected composure. James pulls out a chair at his kitchen table and motions for me to take a seat, a solemn look on his face. I shrug my backpack off and place it by the door before I go to take a seat.

"Was he infected?" He asks, lacing his fingers together on top of the table. I shake my head,

"No. No signs of infection. James, he was cut open, guts on the ground. And someone had carved the letter 'T' on his forehead. Whoever did this, it's almost like they're proud of it, they want people to know who did it." I say, voicing some uncertain conclusions I had reached throughout the night. He scowls and looks to the table's surface as he thinks. I hope he knows what to do, I really don't know what the right call is.

"You report it?" He asks, gaze coming up to my face.

"No. I was going to this morning but decided to come by here first. Get a second opinion." I adjust in my seat, my wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to my body. He nods his head in understanding.

"Go report it. That boy belongs to someone, the least they'll do is inform the family. They deserve that much." He says, giving me less than I was hoping for. Although, I don't exactly know what answer I came here looking for. Appreciative of his time, and feeling the need to get to a FEDRA post, I stand from the table.

"Might want to tell people to hold off for a few days, operations could be busted if they go out looking for the killer." I tell James and pick up my bag by the door. He nods,

"I will. Be careful out there Noelle, don't go doin' anything stupid." Opening the door, I give him a nod before I leave. I feel bad for intruding on his time, when I really shouldn't, he bothers me all the time at my place. However, I'm thankful he confirmed my plan of action.

James has been my number one confidant and partner for years now. We both ended up in the Boston quarantine zone fairly early during the outbreak. After I had been hauled away from my family, FEDRA placed me in a holding camp out near Philadelphia before moving me to Boston. James and I were placed on border patrol together when I first arrived, and we hit it off immediately.