I set aside all expectations and pulled back the main zipper. On top was a large first-aid kit, which was probably why I couldn’t find one in his bathroom back at his apartment. Below that was a laptop and what appeared to be two handgun cases, both with fingerprint locks. The bottom was lined with a heavy wool blanket and a plastic tarp along with a length of rope. A part of me wanted to be upset because a normal, healthy individual wouldn’t carry around this type of gear. But after what he’d told me the night before, I didn’t think any of it was all that surprising. Not only that, but my own convoluted past blurred the lines of acceptable versus unacceptable. It wasn’t like he had torture devices or a severed head tucked away. If he needed to keep a stash of guns and a tarp in a go bag t
