Dylan's Dilemma

Chapter 3-3

After Mars left, Dylan gathered up the dishes remaining on the table, washed and dried them, and put them away. When he finished, he turned to find Alastair watching him with a trace of amusement.

“Now if you’re bored and want to make beds,” Alastair said.

Dylan managed a small laugh. “My housekeeping chore while I’m here?”

“Not at all.”

Dylan paused before asking, “Is it all right if I go for a walk? I need to think things through and…” He shrugged.

“Doing so with me around will make it harder. I understand. Go ahead. You’ll find there are a few paths, mainly made by the local animals. Stay on them if you would. I don’t want to have to go searching for you.”

“What kind of animals?” Dylan envisioned bear or cougars.

“Deer, mostly. I spotted a bighorn sheep one time when I was up here. Coyotes and cougars tend to keep their distance unless you go off the paths.”

“Then I’ll be sure to stick to them.” Going into his bedroom, Dylan got his jacket and left, telling Alastair he’d be back in an hour, or less.

The air was brisk, despite the sun shining through the trees, and smelled of pine. Not the pine scent of auto air fresheners but real, honest-to-God pine. It made him feel awake and alive. He saw one of the paths, leading away from the side of the cabin and took it.

“I have to make a decision,” he said, talking aloud to himself, as he often did. “Yeah, it’s almost a no-brainer, but still…What would be expected of me if I joined them? If they wanted me to kill someone, could I? They say for some people it gets easier each time but I don’t want to be that person. Even if it’s the only way to end what some bastard’s doing, I can’t see me pointing a gun and firing.” He looked down at his hands. “Or killing them in any way.” He shuddered, remembering shoving Tommy and the sound when his head hit the dresser. “I suppose I wouldn’t have to worry about that. A guy who needs killing wouldn’t let me get that close.”

He paused when he heard something moving in the underbrush. It has to be a squirrel or a chipmunk. If it was something larger, I’d see it. After convincing himself he was right, he began walking again.

I suppose…Well, they did seem to like the fact I have people-skills. Maybe I’d be expected to infiltrate some outfit? He thought of the movies he’d watched where the hero did just that. And usually ended up in a shootout at the end. That is so not what I want to happen.

He chuckled, imagining standing in some room, gun drawn, battling the bad guy. Or in a car, racing down the highway trying to escape before the villain caught up with him.

That doesn’t happen in real life, I’m sure. I’d go in, get the information Alastair wants, and be out of there before anyone realized what I was doing. I wonder if you get backup when you’re doing that. He had no idea. In fact, he realized, he didn’t have the slightest clue what would be involved. “Something I need to find out. Do they train me? God I hope so,” he muttered under his breath.

He entered a small clearing, with several large boulders scattered around. Sitting on one, he stared off into the distance. Between the trees on the far side, he could barely make out tall mountain peaks, some still covered with snow. It was beautiful, making him wish he was just a hiker on a daytrip, instead of a man who had almost no control over what was happening to him.

“All right, that’s not true,” he scolded. “I do have control. I can leave and try to find somewhere safe to hide, to live, where the cops won’t be looking for me. I’m sure I could become a nonentity in some big city.” He sighed. “Learn to be a construction worker for some small outfit who’d pay me cash and ask no questions. Or hookup with a smalltime crook and sell drugs. Uh-huh. Not.”

He jumped when two chipmunks dashed into the clearing, watching with amusement while they darted around as if playing catch-me-if-you-can before disappearing.

“Okay,” he murmured, getting back on track. “I could walk into a police station and give myself up. But I’d rather not when it comes down to it. That leaves me with one valid option. Take Alastair up on his offer. Do I have it in me to become some sort of secret agent? I guess I won’t know until I do find out what’s involved. I wonder if Mars would be the one…training me?”

He liked the idea it could be Mars. He’s nice, he seems concerned about me, if his volunteering to go pick up my things is any indication. And damn, he’s hot. Dylan shook his head. And probably straight, or he has someone, or he sees me as a poor schmuck who got in over his head because I wasn’t willing to let Tommy blackmail me into coming back to him. Damn, if I’d used my head, I wouldn’t be in this predicament. But I didn’t, so I am.

Getting up, he started back to the cabin—and to my future as a secret agent, I guess. Or whatever they call themselves.