Redline by Tom Fowler

Author:Tom Fowler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Widening Gyre Media

27

After they finished for the day, Ortiz drove back home. Under normal circumstances, Tyler would have offered him the sleeper sofa, but he didn’t need anyone in the gang driving by and seeing Ortiz’s car in the lot. By now, Tyler figured out they knew where his fake persona lived. Keeping them guessing about the rest was the better play, and Ortiz didn’t mind the extra round trip.

After dinner, Tyler picked up his sketch book and pencils. They were a far cry from his easel, high-quality paper, and watercolors at home. He’d upgraded his supplies years ago when he learned to stop caring how the outputs looked. Tyler also realized only a poor craftsman blames his tools, so he replaced all the basic and starter equipment he owned with better versions. His eyes watered at the price, but he could see the results on the rich grains of the sheets.

Tyler sat on the couch and opened the book to the second page. He picked up a black pencil, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. The VA shrink who put him on the therapeutic painting program told him he couldn’t force it. It was better to try and clear his mind and let the ideas come. His brain would decide what it needed to expel onto the parchment. While it sounded like bunk at the time, it turned out to be true.

His hand moved, and the outline of a long, squat building appeared, covering most of the paper’s width. A few cars squeezed in on one side. Inside the open bay door, bodies lay strewn on the floor. Tyler reached for a red pencil and colored in some blood effects. When he’d finished and snapped back out of the zone, he looked at his handiwork and frowned.

“Interpreting dreams is bullshit,” he remembered telling the shrink. “Why should I think making sense of what I paint is any different?”

All of his skeptical moments and comments about the program—the question he recalled now was but a single one on a long list—dissolved once he learned it really worked. To her credit, the doctor was always patient with him. Everything she explained turned out to be true, and now, figuring out what he put on the page was a regular part of the process. Even Lexi did it when she saw his output.

Tyler understood most of it. The building was the industrial site the gang used as a garage. Most of the bodies were men, but one—with a few squiggles of red hair—clearly represented Hope and her natural color. He blew out a deep breath. Failing meant the group would kill him, but they could go further and presume Hope brought him in deliberately. Connor already seemed to harbor a few ideas in this regard. One bad job, and all he needed to do was plant the idea in Chains’ mind.

As much as Tyler wanted the men to fail, he needed to do what he could to make sure their jobs succeeded. Both Tyler’s and Hope’s lives depended on it.

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