Mort hadn’t heard from Ryan in years so when he saw his name pop up on his caller ID he couldn’t refuse.

Ryan had asked him to locate a person or a body, depending on the circumstances. One, Gabriel Davidson, was to be found and brought safely into Remdian along with his three adopted children. If he was dead, however, his remains were to be handled with care.

Mort had no idea why Ryan was going through all the trouble of finding this one man. But, he was willing to do damn near anything for the right price.

With his orders given and the wind at his back, Mort set out on his motorcycle to the address he’d been given. Luckily, he wasn’t more than a few hours' ride from the border, so he’d get there before dusk. Mort preferred night, it was the best for sneaking around and getting a job done.

He drove through the bustling city and town streets of Remdia, nothing out of place or disturbed. Life was unscathed by the current events. The people of Remdia still felt safe.

Mort scoffed as he drove through the ignorance and bliss of the country he called home. He knew what awaited him on the border, he had seen war before, and he was irked that more people didn’t seem to give a shit about it. Out of sight, out of mind, he supposed.

Nearing his destination, he wound through farmlands where green pastures faded into the horizon line. He lavished in the peace and serenity those rolling hills brought him. No people to contend with or be annoyed by.

As the sun lowered, Mort saw evidence of war start to take shape. The towns he drove through were desolate, emptied ghost towns. Up ahead he could see smoke billowing in the air from recent bombings. The tar he drove on was misshapen by the weight of the tanks that had rolled through. With furrowed brows and careful maneuvers to remain unseen he forged on.

He avoided the military base camps and drove as far as he could without arousing suspicion on his motorcycle. When he felt his bike would simply get him shot, he ditched it in a place he’d remember. He might be getting paid for this errand, but not enough to leave ditch his favorite bike.

Sliding down alleys and sticking to the shadows, Mort found himself deeper in the war zone. There were bodies strewn about, broken homes and windows. The soldiers had clearly moved through the area, laying down anything that stood in their way.

Mort shook his head, fury building inside at all the women and children he saw slain. He might have been a certifiable madman himself, but he’d never killed a child. Much less an unarmed mother holding a child. He was irate that his countrymen had resorted to such a heinous act, but deep down he remembered what it was like to take orders. He knew that feeling all too well.

He finally found the street he was directed to go to. It looked like many of the other streets he’d seen, an empty shell of the life that once lived there. He knew if the target was there, he was most assuredly dead. Chances were the man, and his children were long gone though, which meant Mort would have to hunt him down.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Still, he continued onwards.

Standing in front of the small green house, Mort felt himself grow sick. This house looked particularly worse than the rest. It had been blown to smithereens and destroyed beyond comprehension.

He stepped gently on the glass shards, trying to remain silent even though there were no signs of life to be seen. The bombs and rumbling of engines were roaring in the distance. Clearly the soldiers had moved on, but still, he took care with each step.

Nearing the home, he pulled out a small flashlight. In the dim light, he saw his target.

A man and three children were all dead.

Mort sighed, both at the state of the people he’d seen and for the obvious bad news he was going to have to relay to his old friend.

He stepped into the rundown home, taking small steps and watching for any shift in structural integrity. He assumed the house was about two misteps from collapsing, so he hurried to grab the family and haul them out before that happened.

He lifted two children at once, gritting his teeth at the fragility he felt in his hands. He carted them out of the home and gently laid them on the grass. He returned to the house two more times, once for the eldest child and once for his main target, Gabriel.

When everyone was respectfully laid on the ground, he picked up his phone and dialed Ryan.

“He’s alive, right?” Ryan answered without hesitation.

Mort sighed, “No. Ry. Him and his three children were killed.” Mort wasn’t one for beating around the bush and he knew Ryan would want a straight answer anyway.

“Fuck!”

Mort heard something smashing in the phone. He assumed Ryan had just thrown a glass.

“I’ll bring them back,” Mort confirmed his end of the deal.

“I know you will,” Ryan said before abruptly hanging up the phone.

Mort didn’t question the reaction. Obviously, his friend knew this man and that was enough to warrant a vile reaction.

It was time to prepare the bodies for travel in a delicate manner. Mort was a man of many specific talents, but he remained superstitious. Disrespecting the dead would only lead to being haunted and tortured for the rest of your days, or so he thought.

He ducked into a nearby home to find some sheets or fabric to wrap the bodies in. Thankfully, he found some solid-colored sheets, no flowers or childish patterns. He’d imagined Ryan would have slapped him for a stunt like that.

With the fabric in hand, he was about to return to the bodies when he heard a siren growing in volume. It sounded like an ambulance, but that would be absurd, right? He continued on with his mission and returned to the corpses laid outside.

He began wrapping Gabriel up first, as he was the priority.

The sirens continued to grow in volume.

When it felt like the vehicle was on the same street, Mort laid an open sheet over the family and hid in the shadows.

Sure enough, an ambulance pulled into view. It stopped a couple houses down from his current position.

A tall brunette stepped out of the driver’s side of the vehicle.

“Hello!” she yelled into the darkness.

Mort silently tsked her ignorance, was she trying to get herself shot?

“Hello, is anyone alive out here? I’ve brought medical supplies! I’m a Caledornian here to help! My name is Katy! I promise I won’t hurt you!”

Much to his surprise, Mort found himself completely mesmerized by the irrational woman. She was trying to give aid to the people who needed it most, and he respected her for risking her own life to do it.

When no one responded to the woman, she sighed and got back into the ambulance.

Mort watched her drive away then continued his own mission.