In **Part Twen­ty-Two** of “Blood Merid­i­an,” the nar­ra­tive unfolds with the pro­tag­o­nist nav­i­gat­ing dark streets, wit­ness­ing a des­o­late tav­ern scene before being appre­hend­ed by sol­diers. Upon enter­ing his cell, he becomes increas­ing­ly rest­less, artic­u­lat­ing thoughts shaped by his pre­vi­ous vio­lent expe­ri­ences, which alarm his jail­ers. The judge vis­its him, pre­sent­ing an unset­tling mix of charm and mal­ice, dressed sharply and equipped with weapons. Their con­ver­sa­tion revolves around account­abil­i­ty for past atroc­i­ties, with the judge insin­u­at­ing that the pro­tag­o­nist is respon­si­ble for grave mis­deeds, includ­ing a mas­sacre orches­trat­ed in a sav­age part­ner­ship. The judge claims that their fates were inter­twined through the chaos of war, chal­leng­ing the pro­tag­o­nist’s per­cep­tion of his own actions.

The kid, remain­ing resis­tant, asserts that the judge bears respon­si­bil­i­ty instead. The judge’s manip­u­la­tive dia­logue inten­si­fies, as he sug­gests that true con­nec­tion amongst men aris­es from shared ene­mies rather than cama­raderie. The ten­sion esca­lates to a point where the kid acknowl­edges the judg­ment cast upon him, deem­ing the judge a sig­nif­i­cant influ­ence in his life’s path. After their meet­ing, the kid finds a moment of respite, con­vers­ing with a cor­po­ral about hid­den trea­sures, only to be released short­ly there­after when a priest per­forms a bap­tism-like cer­e­mo­ny.

After his release, the kid seeks med­ical atten­tion for an arrow wound, encoun­ter­ing a young sur­geon who insists on admin­is­ter­ing surgery. Tough cir­cum­stances lead him to sell his pis­tol for funds, but he remains grap­pling with his ill fate. Over time, he moves through Los Ange­les, wit­ness­ing a pub­lic hang­ing that reveals haunt­ing familiarities—Toadvine and Brown—hanged in a grim spec­ta­cle.

The nar­ra­tive cap­tures the poignant des­o­la­tion of the kid’s life as he wan­ders through var­i­ous encoun­ters, inter­acts with strangers, and absorbs the bru­tal­i­ty of his sur­round­ings. He observes the suf­fer­ing result­ing from vio­lence, as well as the cycli­cal nature of death and sur­vival, all while not gain­ing clo­sure regard­ing the priest or the judge.

Ulti­mate­ly, while the kid con­tin­ues his jour­ney through des­o­la­tion and vio­lence, he retains an air of iso­la­tion, hint­ing at the broad­er themes of fate, account­abil­i­ty, and the human con­di­tion that per­me­ate the larg­er nar­ra­tive .