Chapter 13: Bonds Forged in Bourbon

At night, I find Morgan in his room, poking at the fire in silence. He looks up, bristling. "You here to drive me out of Georgia? Or kill me?"

I settle in by the table, flicking on a lamp. "Let’s talk about rebellion."

He’s stunned. "Why the change of heart? I thought—"

"I had a dream. In it, I killed you and myself. Now, I won’t let you down again."

His face softens, then hardens. "Henry, you’re trying to trick me. I’ve been killed by you enough times. Not again."

His hand hovers over his gun. My heart jumps. Could Morgan be trapped in the loop, too?

He’s almost collapsing. "What crime have I committed, to die again and again? This room—I’ve never left it."

He grabs my arm. "Henry… can you let me go?"

"Morgan, I only killed you once—you can’t blame me for all this. I’ve paid, too."

He’s confused. "What do you mean?"

"After I killed you, I pledged loyalty to the President. It didn’t save me. I’ve died several times since."

"Larry Johnson killed you?"

"Yeah. I was too young. His son was useless. If you were him, you’d have killed me too."

Morgan laughs. "Did you regret not listening to me and rebelling?"

I smile, bitter. "Yes. Now I’ve changed my mind. Every time I’m reborn, time moves forward. If I die again… I’ll have no more chances. Connie made a deal to give me this last shot."

He looks at me, surprised. "Connie? The President’s favorite? Didn’t she die long ago? Left him a son."

So that was the price of Connie’s deal—her life for my chance.

"Morgan, you came to Georgia to join me. You must have your reasons."

"I did," he says, folding his arms. "But how do I know you’re not tricking me again? You’re different now."

I sigh. "Anyone would change after being betrayed so many times."

I stand. Morgan draws his gun. "What are you doing?"

I slide the bottle across the table—good Kentucky bourbon, the kind that burns away old grudges. "It’s late. I came to drink with you. Want some?"

"Remember under General York? Couldn’t sleep, came to drink with you. When Big Jim bullied me, you stood up for me."

Morgan softens. "I did treat you well, didn’t I?"

"Only after suffering did I remember. Morgan, your words sound like a resentful spouse."

He laughs. "All your fault, you heartless man."

We pour a glass each.

"Did Lucy deceive you, too?" he asks, a hint of jealousy.

"She was even more ruthless than her sister."

He shakes his head. "You’re always moved by affection. Even the President’s fake kindness worked on you."

He stares at me. "And me? I always thought of you, but you never saw me—until you killed me."

"I was wrong. I’ve paid for it. Now I just want to work with you. If you can’t forgive me, kill me again."

He grins, drains his glass. "I’ve got old York’s men here. If you need me, I’ll follow you to the end."

"But there are two urgent things," I say, refilling our glasses. "First, finish this bourbon. Second, I want to tell you all the bad luck I’ve had these years. You died early, suffered less. I lived—so I suffered."

Morgan laughs. "Then I must have a good laugh at you."

"You won’t," I say, locking eyes. "After all these years, only my Morgan truly cares for me."

He laughs. The lamp burns on, and for once, the night feels safe.