Going Dark (Thorn Mysteries)

by James W. Hall

  “Try me.”

  “Save the planet, before it’s too late.”

  Thorn waited through a stretch of silence, then said, “Save it how?”

  Flynn gave Thorn a grim look, then chuckled. A what-the-hell laugh that a man might make just before he leapt off some killer precipice. “We’re about to knock over the first domino. After it falls, nothing’s ever going to be the same again.”

  ELEVEN

  “YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT you walked into, okay, that’s what. It’s a big deal. Bigger than anything you could imagine.”

  Thorn wasn’t going to argue.

  Flynn watched a squadron of pelicans coasting low over the island, then shifted his sober gaze to Thorn and shook his head. “And here’s an irony for you. You’re the reason I’m here. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be doing any of this.”

  Thorn waited. A high-pitched whine was droning in his ears as if he’d dived deep into the pressuring sea.

  “Last year, the day Mom brought me down to Largo, you remember?”

  “I remember.”

  “She thought if I could see how you lived, I’d come around, start to appreciate you or some corny bullshit like that. This big bonding moment. We could all be friends. I was pissy and hateful that day. A real son of a bitch.”

  “I remember you scowled a lot. Didn’t make much eye contact.”

  “I was angry about what you did. About Sawyer. I guess I still am.”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you, Thorn? I don’t think so. I don’t think you’ve ever lost a brother, have you? A twin.”

  Thorn said, no, no, he’d never had a brother.

  “So you don’t know. You can’t understand. Mother doesn’t either.”

  Thorn waited in silence.

  “I know you had no choice. Sawyer went nuts, he attacked you and Mom. You defended yourself, you defended her, you probably saved her life. I know all that on a rational level. But it doesn’t make any difference. Not in here.” Flynn thumped his knuckles hard against his chest.

  Behind him a roseate spoonbill floated above the treetops. To the east out in Hawk Channel a power boat cruised by. Thorn held his tongue. This didn’t feel like the moment to try to set any records straight.

  “The way you just came strutting into our world, this guy we’d never heard of before, all of a sudden you’re standing there in our living room. It was fucked up, Thorn. How cool and collected you were.”

  “Is that how I seemed? Collected?”

  “Like we were supposed to stand up and cheer. Look who’s here. Daddy’s finally showed up to the party.”

  “I didn’t feel cool. I felt out-of-body. I still feel that way.”

  “Well, that’s two of us.” Flynn took a deep breath and released it through fluttering lips. “So, anyway. That visit had an effect. Not the one Mom intended, but it made a difference. When I got home, I couldn’t shake it, how you lived. Your place, how primitive it is, but you seemed so at ease, like Tarzan in his lair.”

  Thorn watched Flynn struggle to find words. Though the young man had Thorn’s sandy hair, his hard cheekbones and sturdy chin, his eyes belonged to his mother. Sensitive, shadowed with emotion, his changing moods appearing and disappearing in them when the rest of his face stayed unreadable. It was a solid face, given depth and dimension by those revealing eyes.

  “Tarzan,” Thorn said.

  “The whole Spartan thing. So simple, basic. So free.”

  Thorn was silent. Not about to correct him.

  “Just the opposite of me. Fucking Miami, my acting career, the fakes I have to deal with, the pompous assholes, the pressures. Some days I can’t breathe. I literally cannot draw a decent breath. Like there’s a strap across my chest, it’s getting tighter all the time. I know it’s stress, I should just suck it up, be thankful for what I have, handle it like everybody else does, but it kept getting worse. Then I saw your place, how you managed, so isolated, so little contact with the world. Just that glimpse and something kicked in, I was inspired. It’s nuts, I know. But that’s the truth. Inspired.”

  “To do what?”

  In answer, Flynn’s eyes swept across the expanse of Prince Key.

  “You came out here because of me.”

  Flynn nodded.

  “Because I inspired you.”

  “Don’t mock me, Thorn. I don’t deserve that.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m trying to absorb what you’re saying. I spent the last year thinking I’d lost you.”

  “I was wrong to act that way. It was bitter and childish.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “After I saw your place, it hit me how much I hated my career, my day-to-day existence. How empty it felt, how artificial. TV acting, for godsakes. I made a promise to myself. I would simplify. Try to connect more with the natural world. The water, the outdoors.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “I bought a freaking boat, a beat-up Boston Whaler, started poking around the bay, going into the ocean, just learning my way step by step.”

  “And this place? It’s some kind of boot camp?”

  Flynn stood up, paced out into the scraggly grass, bent down and picked up a rock, and sailed it over the tops of the mangroves. The boy had a damn good arm. For an actor, for a city boy.

  He came back to the bench and sat, stared toward the tent. No one there. No one in the field. But Thorn could feel the tickle of eyes watching.

  “I’ve known Cameron for years. On the surface he’s this freak of nature, the Incredible Hulk, an armor-plated aberration. But there’s more to him than that. He’s a sensitive guy, smart.”

  “So far, I’ve only met the armor-plated side.”

  “Well, I know him a little better. Four, five years ago I was doing a play at the Grove Theater and he came up to me after and we started talking about how I was handling my part. He’s very tuned in to the nuances of drama. At first I thought he was trying to hit on me. I had that stupid cliché in my head, all bodybuilders are gay.”

  Thorn was silent. Sensitive territory.

  “I’m gay,” Flynn said. “You know that, right?”

  “Yes, I know that.”

  “It bothers you, doesn’t it? My sexuality.”

  “Hasn’t yet.”

  Flynn tested him with a long look. And seemed to accept the answer. “So Prince and I got friendly, went out to dinner, had some laughs.” He halted, looked around, swallowed a breath.

  “You had some laughs, and…”

  “And nothing. I got busy with work, lost track of him. Then last fall I was at a public hearing about Turkey Point, Florida Power and Light’s expansion plans to build two new reactors on the site. The Sierra Club is protesting it because of the impact on the wetlands. FPL wants approval to drill dozens of coastal wells along Biscayne Bay for backup cooling water. It’s a terrible idea.

  “Pump millions of gallons a day out of the Biscayne aquifer. And the nine square miles of cooling canals that are full of heavy, hot, hypersaline water sinking into the aquifer, too, like we don’t already have enough saltwater intrusion fouling our drinking supply. Thousands of pounds of radioactive waste lying around for centuries.”

  “You’ve studied up.”

  “It’s bad. Nobody’s paying attention, but it’s bad. So I’d gone to a lot of meetings as part of the all new and improved Flynn Moss. Gotten to know people, made friends.

  “That night Cameron and Leslie Levine were guest speakers. They talked up the croc program they run. Dodged any questions about nuclear power.

  “When they finished, they came over. Long story short, Prince invited me to his house, just the three of us, and I could tell they had an agenda. They wanted to know about the Sierra Club, what I knew about their plans to protest the new reactors, how devoted I was to the antinuke thing. Feeling me out, trying to see if I might be useful somehow.”

  “Useful?”

  “They were looking for recruits.”
>
  “For what?”

  “I can’t talk about it.”

  “Why not?”

  Flynn hung his head like a beaten man.

  “I’ll keep your secrets, Flynn. Whatever they are.”

  “Why are you here, Thorn? What do you have to do with Prince?”

  “He showed up at my place yesterday.”

  “He did? Why?”

  “Don’t know. He just wandered around. Didn’t seem to be looking for me. We spoke a little, but he didn’t tell me his name. I got his license tag, tracked him to his Grove house, saw a photo of you on the wall, thought that was weird, so I came out here to talk to him, see what the hell was going on.”

  “You were suspicious.”

  “Something smelled funny.”

  “Does anybody else know where you are? Does Sugarman?”

  “No. Nobody. Why? What are you scared of?”

  Flynn searched Thorn’s face. A kid who lived among professional liars. Deceitfulness was his tradecraft, his art. “I can’t tell you anything.”

  “Why?”

  “If they found out, they’d kill us both.”

  That’s all Thorn needed to hear. He reached out and fastened a hand on Flynn’s jaw and cranked his head around so they were facing eye to eye. “Then you and I need to get the hell out of here now.”

  Flynn’s right hand flashed up, whacked Thorn’s arm away. “You can’t bully me.”

  “Get up, we’re going. I’ve got my push pole. We don’t need the engine. I can pole us back. We’re getting the hell out of here right now.”

  “Go ahead, leave. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Thorn stood up. “Come on, kid. Right now, no arguments.”

  “I’m not a kid. I’m not your little boy. Don’t talk to me like that.” Flynn rose. His face darkening, mouth tightened to a snarl.

  He didn’t see it coming. He couldn’t have because Thorn didn’t see it himself. An impulsive move. He swiveled his right hip and shoulder, loaded up, and slammed his fist into Flynn’s solar plexus, knocking out the wind, squeezing shut the young man’s eyes.

  Flynn hacked up a yellow clot of spittle, his knees sagged, and Thorn stepped close, grabbed him, one arm around the back, fingers digging into his armpit. Holding Flynn upright while the kid gagged, he shouldered him toward the cove. Thirty yards, maybe forty, not far.

  A quick plan forming. Lay him out on the beach, swim to the skiff, and slash the netting away from the lower unit. A minute or two to free it, then load Flynn aboard and pole back the way Thorn had come.

  He hadn’t intended to hit him so hard, just render him cooperative. It was the same gut punch he’d used in a few late-night scuffles, a first-strike, breath-stealing blow that more than once had short-circuited a slugfest and allowed Thorn to walk safely out the barroom door.

  But damned if he was going to hit the kid again. The shock of what he’d done was buzzing darkly in Thorn’s head. In one rash act, he’d destroyed whatever flimsy bond they had. But there didn’t seem to be any other way.

  Struggling to keep Flynn upright, Thorn ducked into the woods, headed down the path, staggering under Flynn’s weight. The kid was deceptively heavy. A rangy, rawboned build like Thorn’s.

  He pushed through the last branches and stepped onto the beach. Stopped short, staring at what someone had done. His skiff had been cut loose from the netting and was beached well up on the sand. The outboard housing was gone, ignition wires slashed. His push pole lay in the sand, broken in half.

  An impossible feat. Two inches thick, a composite of fiberglass and graphite. Leaning his whole weight into it, Thorn could flex it a few degrees like a vaulting pole, but the thing was indestructible. He’d never seen one shattered, never heard of its happening.

  While he was registering the bewildering sight, a hand clamped on his right shoulder, a grip so powerful it deadened his flesh and sent a bolt of pain into the shoulder joint. The hand spun him around, and Thorn tripped, Flynn breaking loose from his grasp and falling away, and in that flash Thorn caught the blur of a hand as it chopped the side of his neck and saw Prince’s placid face as the big man’s blow turned the dazzling summer morning to darkness.

  TWELVE

  “WELL, AREN’T YOU THE RESOURCEFUL one, tracking me down.”

  Thorn was inside the barracks tent, lying on a cot in the dusky light. He looked up through an electric haze at the outline of Cameron Prince.

  Dazed, his throat parched, Thorn tried to sit up, but a swirl of sickness rose in his gut, and he lay back.

  “What were you doing at my house? It wasn’t the cistern you were interested in.”

  “Let me put it this way. I was simply evaluating the location.”

  “For what?”

  “Its strategic value. I’d heard about it, but I needed to see for myself.”

  “What kind of strategic value?”

  “I’ve said enough. Now you need to answer my questions. Flynn tells me no one else knows you’re here. Is that true?” Prince held his right hand up to a slab of sunlight filtering through a mesh window and snipped at a fingernail with a pair of silver clippers.

  “Where is he, where’s Flynn?” The words raw in Thorn’s throat.

  “Is that true? Yes or no. Does anyone know where you are?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. That makes things easier. And don’t worry. Flynn’s fine. He’s being looked after. But that wasn’t very fatherly of you, assaulting your own boy. You’re quite the hooligan.”

  “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.”