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Going Dark(30)

By:James W. Hall


“What the fuck are you people doing?”

“Why, we’re living a simple life, an island life. Much like the manner in which you live, Thorn. Self-sufficient, low impact. An experiment in earth-friendly, communal existence. That’s all we’re doing. Why so hostile?”

“I want to see Flynn.”

“Later.” Cameron snipped another nail, flicked it off. “By the way, Wally is very impressed with your fighting skills. He’d like a rematch.”

“If he asks nice, I might oblige.”

“Apparently you fancy yourself a smart-ass.”

“I don’t fancy myself anything.”

“It makes sense, I suppose. A man who keeps society at arm’s length, it’s only natural you’d maintain a buffer of sarcasm. Take nothing seriously, so nothing can touch you.”

“I take some things seriously.”

“Like what, Thorn? I’m curious. What do you really care about? What stirs your passions? Can you name one thing you love?”

Cameron drew another cot close and perched on its edge, then leaned forward, bringing his face inches from Thorn’s, crossing the line from sociable to threatening. Thorn was forced to breathe the vinegar scent of Cameron’s growth hormones or whatever cocktail he was ingesting to bulk up to such a preposterous size.

“You’ve got a python problem. Did you know that?”

“You encountered a python?”

“We met.”

“Did the snake harass you?”

“It tried. It might need first aid.”

“Oh, come on. You hurt a python?”

“I would’ve hurt it more but it escaped.”

“You’re serious.”

“In the cove,” Thorn said. “It wanted to dance. I didn’t like the music.”

“Well, Pauly won’t be pleased you injured one of his pets.” Cameron drew back, returning to his manicure.

“Snapper,” Thorn said.

“Excuse me?”

“You asked what aroused my passions. Fresh yellowtail snapper grilled with lemon and butter. If it’s an hour out of the water, my passions can get fairly aroused.”

Prince gave him a pained look. “You’re mocking me.”

“It’s so easy to do.”

“Maybe I should give you another rabbit punch. Knock the rest of that pissiness out of you.” Cameron worked the clipper around his thumbnail, snipping, then blowing the slivers toward Thorn.

“Did you break my push pole?”

Cameron smiled quietly. “Does that impress you? Brute force?”

Thorn peered into the man’s opaque brown eyes and said nothing. There was no need to respond. A talker such as Prince could carry on both sides of any conversation. Conceit radiated like sour body odor from every pore.

“All right, let’s discuss Flynn, shall we?”

Thorn waited.

“You see, you’ve presented us with a conundrum. You’ve trespassed on our island, barged in uninvited, and now we have to decide how best to proceed, given this new circumstance.”

Thorn watched a cluster of mosquitoes churning in a slant of light.

“Tell me this, if you can. Do you love your son?”

Thorn stared into the big man’s eyes, searching for a biting comeback.

“Oh, you needn’t answer. It’s clear from the look on your face. You feel strongly for Flynn, but you’ve got no clue how to express it because such a thing has never been required of you. Yes, yes, I’m sure you’ve made love to your share of women, and you have drinking buddies and the like, but you’re a confirmed introvert, preoccupied with the minutiae of your day-to-day labors. It’s no doubt a full-time job staring at that complicated navel of yours.

“So doing the emotional heavy lifting required of a father, it’s not a task you’ve prepared yourself for. Am I getting warm?”

“What’re you after?”

“I want to know if you love your son.”

“He’s my flesh and blood. Of course I do.”

“But you barely know him. And he doesn’t seem to have much affection for you.”

“Is there a point?”

Cameron studied his nails for a moment, then used the small file to reshape an edge. When he was done, he puffed the dust toward Thorn. “To be perfectly frank, I’m looking for leverage. To see if safeguarding your son’s well-being might keep you in line.”

“What does that mean?”

“There’s only two ways this can go, Thorn. You join our merry band or the ugly alternative.” Cameron smiled again. It was hard work that seemed to strain the bands of muscles in his neck and jaw and produced something more like a grimace. “I’m told you’re wild and unpredictable, and you have a sordid history of flouting the rule of law, that you live by some badass personal code, the rest of the world be damned. And you enjoy a scuffle and can hold your own against men bigger and more well trained. An eye-gouging brawler.”