Clay let his son out at the Walgreen's and told him he'd have to make his own way home. The boy climbed out of the back seat of the car without a word, but stood silently beside the car looking at his father.
"You are my father, right?"
Clay looked him in the eyes. For a moment, he felt confused himself about his job, about his identity and his responsibility for this boy.
"Yes. Son. I'll see you at home."
Clay watched the boy turn and leave the parking lot, walking toward the train station to make his own way home. He'd have to answer for his appearance at the boy's test; he knew they'd wonder if he was losing his focus and putting them in jeopardy. He lit a cigarette and watched the boy disappear around a corner, a tall golden figure swallowed again by shadows. A life of shadows.

Tomorrow, he'd take the boy out to the trails where they'd often camp and train. He'd forget his cell phone--no he'd lose it in the stream and handle their suspicions later. He'd tell the boy almost everything and help him deal with the life before him.

"What a fuckin' mess," he whispered out loud. "How can I be so sure of something all my life, then doubt it all the next." Although it was freezing out, almost down to the 30s, sweat trickled down the side of Clay's hard, hollowed out face. He started his car and drove out of the parking lot toward home.

The boy didn't seem to feel the cold. After midnight, he approached the 71st street station, bought a ticket, and waited on the platform for the train. He'd killed someone tonight he was sure, possibly two men. He looked at the blood on his hands that he hadn't rubbed off in the car. Clearly he was supposed to fight these men and wouldn't suffer any repercussions as a result. They were torturing him; they put him in that position. He also felt that his father wasn't supposed to be there and was suffering some kind of guilt over the whole thing. The train pulled up without his even realizing it until it was there and he entered an empty grimy car and sat down, suddenly tired from the entire experience. Had his dad sold him into something?

Getting off at 107th street, he walked the remaining 10 blocks home. At the end of his street, he could