Angus's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Angus spent the next three days at the range, putting rounds through paper targets until his shoulder ached and his grip steadied. The artist watched sometimes, arms crossed, saying nothing. Each shot taught Angus the difference between wanting the bullet to land and making it land. On the fourth morning, Penny arrived at the shop carrying a small wooden box. Angus was cleaning the tattoo station when she walked in, and he glanced up expecting another math lesson or news about her father. But when she set the box on the counter and opened it, he went still. Inside sat a leather bracelet, woven strips with metal beads shaped like motorcycle wheels. He'd seen one like it before. His brother had worn one. Penny pulled something else from the box. Dog tags on a rusted chain, initials scratched deep into worn metal. His brother's initials. She set them beside the bracelet and said her father had found them in a tent setup near the old campground, the one Angus's brother used to visit before he disappeared. Her father thought Angus should have them. But there was a note too, folded and yellowed, tucked beneath the tags. It named his brother and two others, talking about a shipment that went wrong. Angus picked up the dog tags, feeling their weight. He'd spent years keeping the story of his brother locked down, controlled, telling only what he chose. Now someone else had opened a door he didn't know existed. He looked at Penny and asked if her father knew what the note meant. She nodded once. Angus folded the note carefully and put it in his pocket. The story wasn't just his anymore, and that changed everything about how he'd have to carry it.