Page 11 of Charging Dodge

“Yeah, and that’s the messed up part,” Carter chimes in, shoving his hands deep into his pockets because he does not know what else to do with them. He looks from me to Dodge. “We’re just flying blind. I got zero clue who’s pulling the strings or what they’ve got planned next. For all we know, they could be watching us right this second.” He kicks at a loose floorboard. It makes a dull thud. “See, that’s why I don’t get to sit around. If we stay put here, we’re just waiting for them to kick down the door like they did back home. We gotta figure out how to stop them, or at least how to get them off our backs for good. We can’t just cross our fingers and hope they lose interest. That ain’t how the real world works, right, Dodge?” He looks over at him for confirmation. “You say you know the game. So tell us. How do we make them think we don’t have what they’re looking for? Or do we gotta take them out before they get to us? I’m tired of running like a stray dog.”

Dodge stops the swing with the toe of his boot. He looks at Carter, studying him like a mechanic checking a faulty engine. It’s a steady, calm look. He doesn’t seem threatened by my brother’s attitude. “You’ve got a lot of fire in your gut, Carter,” Dodge says, his voice a low rumble. “That’s good. But rushing into a fight before you know who you’re swinging at is a great way to get yourself killed. We aren’t just sitting around. We’re gathering intel. I’ve got people who can dig, but they need time to work the wires. You want to stay alive? Then you need to learn patience. It’s a skill you’ll need if you want to keep breathing.”

Carter scoffs, kicking the porch floor again. “Patience? Seriously? Man, that sounds like a bunch of crap when we’re counting down the seconds till they show up. My sister’s been preaching patience for weeks, and look where that got us.”

I wince, but I don’t argue. He’s right. Every day we spent trying to blend in, trying to be normal, we were just marking time for the people who want us gone.

Dodge leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He doesn’t look offended by the kid’s outburst. “You’re tired of being prey,” he says, his eyes pinning Carter in place. “I get it. But playing the hero on a hunch is for the movies. We play this smart, or we don’t play at all. Do you trust me enough to follow my lead, or are you gonna keep trying to make your own rules?”

The air is thick with tension. Carter looks at me, then back at Dodge. He wants to argue, but he knows Dodge is the only one who has a plan that doesn’t involve running until the car quits.

Carter shifts his weight, his sneakers scraping against the rough wood of the patio. He’s working overtime to act like he’s got the whole world figured out, but I can see the pulse jumping in his neck. He hates the idea of waiting for someone else to make the first move.

“Man, whatever," Carter grunts, crossing his arms so tight his knuckles turn pale. “I'll play by your book for now. But look, if those creeps show their ugly faces, I ain't waiting for a green light from anybody. I’m doing what I gotta do to keep us breathing.”

Dodge just gives a quick nod, like he expected nothing less from a kid pushed into a corner. I swallow the lump in my throat. Watching them negotiate our survival feels like watching two gamblers betting with chips that aren't even theirs. I don't know who’s scarier right now, the faceless hunters we're fleeing or the man standing in front of us promising to save us.

“Knock it off with the tough guy act, Carter,” I snap. I reach out, trying to grab his arm, but he jerks back like I’m trying to cage him. It kills me seeing him try to wear a mask he hasn't earned. He thinks copying the posture and the attitude he’s seen in movies is going to keep the bad guys away, but it's just making him a bigger target for his own mistakes.

He twists his face into a scowl that looks painful, like he’s forcing his muscles into a shape they don’t belong in. He’s trying so hard to be the bad boy that it's just sad. “Sis, whatever,” he spits out, his voice slipping up an octave for a split second before he forces it back down to a gravelly register. “You want me to speak nice while we're sitting here waiting to get smoked? This ain't some school play where you get points for being polite. I'm just being real. If we're gonna make it, we gotta quit being soft and start moving like we actually care about staying alive.”

Dodge doesn't say a word. He just tips his head, watching the exchange with the calm of a guy who's seen a hundred kids try to prove they're grown up. I watch the space between us grow. It feels like Carter is drifting away into a world I can't follow, and the thought of losing him to this hardened version of himself makes my stomach swirl.

“We took this risk because we wanted a shot at breathing,” I say, my voice steady despite the fear clawing at me. “Acting like you're some street legend when we're hiding out here is only gonna land you in the dirt. Get your head in the game. Don't be an idiot.”

When he goes to argue, Dodge holds his hand up, giving him a lethal stare. I can see demons in his eyes, ones that are ready to grab Carter by the ears and drag him off to the underworld.

CHAPTER NINE

Dodge

My jaw aches from clenching it so hard, and I have to force my muscles to slacken. I take a step toward the kid, making sure he knows I’m not messing around. He’s standing there like he’s ready to scrap, and that kind of posturing is a quick way to end up in the ground. I keep my voice steady, but there’s enough heat behind it to make him hesitate.

“You came with me because you wanted to stay breathing, Carter,” I remind him, watching him try to puff out his chest. “What you’re doing right now, acting like you're invincible, is a straight ticket to the grave. You need to get your head right. Think, kid. This isn't some flick you watched on the couch. This is the real world, and the people coming for you don't care about your attitude.”

He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets and looks away, his shoulders slumped but his jaw still tight. He’s listening, even if he’s annoyed I called him out on his bluff.

“I’m just saying,” he mumbles, barely audible. “I ain't trying to be a corpse. I’m just sick of taking it from everyone.”

“I get that,” I admit, dropping the lecture for a second. “But there’s a difference between being a fighter and being a target. Right now, you’re making yourself the biggest target in the room. If you want to survive, you need to learn when to shut up and when to strike.” He looks back at me, his eyes searching mine for any sign I’m full of it. I don’t give him anything. I just hold his eyes until he’s the one who has to look away. “And your sister’s right, stop talking like a street thug, you’re smarter than that and it makes you sound stupid.”

He bites his lip, his eyes darting toward the darkness of the yard as if he’s expecting them to jump out of the shadows right then. I know that feeling. It’s the same itch I’ve had in my own skin for years. Again, he kicks at a loose plank, it makes a hollow thud that vibrates through the porch floor. I’m starting to think it’s a nervous tic.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, shoving his hands back into his pockets to hide the shaking. “I'm just tired of them taking everything. I thought if I acted like I didn't care, maybe they'd leave us alone.”

“That's not how it works. You show them you don't care, they just push harder to see what breaks you. You want to survive this mess? Then you start watching the shadows instead of creating them. I ain't trying to tear you down, Carter. I'm trying to make sure you're still standing when the dust settles.”

He finally looks at me, his face a mask of frustration and grudging respect. “So what now? We just wait?”

“We prep,” I answer. “I got stuff you need to know. Things that keep you off the obituary page. If you're really as ready as you claim, then stop posturing and start paying attention. We're doing this my way, or you might as well start digging four graves right now.”

“What stuff do I need to know?” he asks, suddenly interested in acting like a normal human being instead of a ruffian.

I stand up and eat the distance between us. Getting in his face, I say, “For starters, you learn to disappear. You think you’re being slick walking around like you own the block, but that just puts a target on your back. You keep your head down and your ears pinned. You stop trying to be the loud one and start being the person in the corner that nobody remembers. If you aren't invisible, you're a liability.” Carter kicks at the dirt, looking annoyed, but he keeps his mouth shut. “And you quit treating that like a toy,” I continue, jerking my chin toward the gun he's still gripping tight in his pocket. “It's not for show. You never pull it unless you're ready to use it, and you never, ever let folks know you've got it. It's your last resort, not your first impression. You break those rules, you're asking for a one way trip to the morgue. You get that?”

He gives a curt nod, his face going pale. The reality is finally sinking in. “I thought knowing how to shoot was enough. I didn't think about all the other junk.”

“That's because you've been watching too many movies,” I tease, leaning back to give him breathing room. “Real life doesn't come with a soundtrack or a slow motion finish. It's messy, it's fast, and it ends before you can blink. You want to stay upright? You follow these rules. You stay quiet, you stay hidden, and you always, always look behind you before you step forward.”