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It was a death sentence.

But so was staying. Itori had known that since their first interaction.

So Will had to get there. He couldn’t stand the idea of Itori believing for a second that Will had chosen this life over him. Believing as he went to his death that Will didn’t love him.

Because Will did. That was the only explanation for the throbbing, wild feeling in his chest at the thought of losing him.

“–Knew all along you had somethin’ to do with it,” Gary’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Freaks like you are always ruining it for the rest of us.”

There was a grate between them, but Will had the urge to reach for the officer, to hit him like he should’ve done before. Like he would do if he got a chance between here and incarceration.

If Will was being arrested and charged, he might as well go down swinging. What did he have to lose?

He cursed himself for his moment of surprise, for freezing in fear of the gun. A bullet was better than this, wasn’t it? Fighting against the barbed wire digging into your leg was better than letting it kill you silently. The fox had had the right idea.

Out the window, the sun was starting to set. Will should’ve been on his way back to the spring by now. Instead, the car bumped along toward the downtown.

Will felt every minute ticking away.

As they neared the Town Hall, traffic slowed their approach further. Gary, after getting no rise out of Will, had gone silent for the drive. Now he grumbled, annoyed at their path being stymied.

“What the fuck is all this?” He muttered, leaning forward to try and see through the growing dark. He reached for his radio. “Dispatch, this is Quinn. Is there an accident around 2nd and Main?”

The radio crackled. The car had come to a stop, the red of taillights in front of them illuminating the car. Gary rolled down his window and craned his head out to try and see. As he did so, a noise came into the cabin. It sounded like voices, like chanting.

Subtly, Will reached for the door handle nearest him. He gave it a gentle yank, but could tell instantaneously it wasn’t connected to anything. He hadn’t expected it to be that easy, but he had to try anything available to him.

“Negative,” the radio crackled back. “Ten-thirty-four at Town Hall. Officers in area are requested to respond.”

“Ten-thirty-four? What?” Gary put the radio to his mouth again. “What do you mean?”

Gary flipped the lights and sirens on, cursing to himself.

The car in front of them didn’t move. Neither did the one behind them.

Gary laid on the horn, but whoever was in the minivan didn’t seem to care. It didn’t move an inch.

“Are you serious?” Will saw Gary reach to put the car in park, then pause. His eyes flicked to the backseat, meeting Will’s.

Instead of getting out, he jerked the wheel and pulled the car up off the road and onto one of the curbs, going around the minivan.

But as they began to crawl toward Town Hall like that, Will realized most of the cars were empty. They hadn’t just been stopped, they’d been parked there, left purposefully to block the road in. Some had left the engines on and some hadn’t.

“What the hell is going on?” Gary gruffed as he had to cut another corner, forcing the car farther up onto the sidewalk to make the turn. The sound of voices got louder as they got nearer to Town Hall, and now even with Gary’s window rolled back up, Will could hear them.

The Town Hall building came into view ahead, and Gary had to hit the brakes, unable to go farther. There weren’t cars cluttering the street around the building here, there were people.

It was not just a few people like Becky had said. This looked like the whole fucking town had shown up.

“Jesus Christ,” Gary swore as he threw the car into park.

The crowd was massive, and more people were still streaming in, walking around the police car to join the rioters. Will could see signs with STOP XOM! and CORPORATE GREED IS POISONING OUR TOWN and WHO IS BENEFITING?

There were steps up to the Town Hall building, and at the top, with a megaphone, was Becky.

Everyone was shouting and cursing. There were chants, but it wasn’t cohesive enough to pick things out.

“Dispatch, need backup at Town Hall. All officers,” Gary was saying into the radio. Then “Shit, shit,” he muttered to himself as he reached across the car to open the glove box.