A: Immortal Sea

didn‟t know where he belonged.

He set down his bottle. He didn‟t want to drink alone tonight. And he didn‟t want to drink with the company the Galaxy

had to offer.

Careful not to flash his roll, he dropped a couple of bills on the table and walked out.

Nobody followed.

Outside, the sky was stained with sunset and a chemical haze, orange, purple, gray. The day‟s heat lingered, radiating from

the crumbling asphalt, sparking off the broken glass. He headed instinctively for the water, free as a bird thanks to the

coworker boyfriend with the ponytail, trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his evening.

Or maybe his life.

Beyond the jumbled rooftops at the end of the street, he could see the flat shimmer of the sea. He passed a homeless guy

huddled in a doorway, clutching a bottle, watching the street with flat, dead eyes. Something wrong there. He kept his arms

loose and at his sides as the pawn shops and tattoo parlors gave way to warehouses and razed lots.

His neck crawled. Alley ahead. Empty. Good.

He lengthened his stride, taking note of blank windows and deserted doorways. Good place to get jumped, he thought, and

angled to avoid the dirty white van blocking a side street.

He heard a thump. A grunt.

Not his problem, he reminded himself. None of his business.

A woman‟s cry, sharp with anger and alarm.

Shit.

He circled the van, shot a quick look down the street.

And saw Lara Rho backed against the brick wall of an empty lot with a couple of rough guys circling her like dogs.