Exiting the truck, he discreetly wiped his hands on his hoodie, and then made sure things were locked down. He met Hale in front of the truck but kept his eyes on their surroundings, examining the area. Clouds were filling the sky, blocking the sun, but the world seemed hyperalive. It wasn’t the peak of fall color yet, but the leaves were changing. Perhaps because of the recent lack of rain, many had already fallen, and a breeze carried them rustling across the lot.
Hale gestured toward the woods, and wordlessly they began walking away from the truck. Pavement crunched underfoot, turned to gravel by time and kept clear of vegetation by the trucks. They passed the remnants of the rest stop building that had long since been burned out by truckers who wanted to keep it free of passing vagrants so they could use the turnoff.
They walked to the tree line where they could talk in private. Not private, exactly, because Justin heard the buzzing of a drone approaching. Out there it was probably a federal patrol model. Weaponized. Both he and Hale instinctively quickened their pace, though there was nothing abnormal about truckers walking into the woods. Nature called and all that—a fact Justin would personally attest to at the moment—though two men together might seem odd. Thankfully the drone was perhaps a quarter mile away and didn’t look to fly directly overhead.
Justin let Hale take the lead, walking two steps behind him. That way it didn’t seem odd that they weren’t talking. Hopefully, anyway.
Entering the roadside forest, Justin put his hands in his pockets and kept his eyes to the ground. The vegetation was somewhat sparse, but the trees were fairly thick. Many plants had completely died out over the last generations, due to either ground contamination or climate change. This summer the area had been under water. It had been unusually wet early in the season, making the highway impassable and forcing Justin to drive some rather inconvenient detours. In the last couple months, however, it had been completely dry, and decaying leaves carpeted the forest floor, broken by patches of green where the heartier plants grew. Fallen trees, perhaps dying breeds, crossed their path frequently. Sporadic dry leaves crunched underfoot.
The stifled forest growth made him think of Griz. The old man always said the ground contamination and the viruses were one and the same. The epidemics that killed all the people killed the ground. People shit it out, bled it out, coughed it out. Every living thing was infected with the same poison, trying to heal. Someone, somewhere, had to know the truth, but there was no distinguishing the truth from the misinformation, from all the theories and conspiracies plastered all over the Internet, spewing from the mouths of feuding government officials or sloganed by competing food and drug corporations. Where did you go to find the truth?
Not that it even mattered. Justin kicked at a lonely chestnut. Food mattered. Survival mattered. Gin and Charlie and Griz mattered. People took precedence over truth. Griz would agree with that. God, if only Griz could see him now—doing exactly what the man wanted. Making a friend. Hopefully. Ugh. Justin wiped his hands inside his pockets, then brought them out in the cool air. He cracked his knuckles and flexed his fingers, the sound loud even with their tramping gait. It almost seemed like finding the truth to the Thinning would be easier than the prospect of what he was about to do—or try to do, anyway. This didn’t even seem real. Fucking Black Jim.
They kept walking, Hale leading like he knew where he was going. Once well out of sight of the road, he looked around as if searching for something but didn’t slow his pace. Instead, Hale altered his direction and walked over to a tree that was larger than most. Justin watched as Hale sat down, leaning his back against the tree.
Hale patted the leaf-covered ground next to him. “Have a seat. This seems like more of a sit-down conversation.”
Okay. Justin wiped his hands again on the inside of his pockets as he sat down. The tree wasn’t so large that they had any space between them, and they bumped shoulders. Oh God.
Justin pulled his knees up and leaned forward, giving Hale some space. Except they were touching at the hip, producing a sensation like electricity at his midsection. So much for not getting distracted.
“How did you find me?” Justin began before his mind could wander. He stared straight ahead over his knees, looking into the forest. Bunches of small spindly ferns poked up through the leaf litter.
Behind him he sensed Hale stretching out, extending his legs and putting his hands behind his head. Great. Now if Justin leaned back he’d be leaning right into Hale’s arm.
“I don’t know, exactly,” Hale said. “My handler had been looking for you, but he’d reached a dead end. Then somehow someone slipped me a note, said where to find you. I don’t know who did it. Benz might—that’s my handler—but I haven’t talked to him yet. I wasn’t sure this was about you, not until this morning.”
“I saw him following us, the night at the church.”
“Yeah,” Hale admitted. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Really? So that’s why. “Even after the glove? Why?”
“Why don’t you tell me about the glove first? Answer for an answer.”
Perfect. Answering questions Justin could handle. “Scarecrow—he told me they wanted me to use it—the Shadow Masters or whoever. He said… he said they wanted me to cut your face.”
Hale was silent. Only seconds, but it was too long, so Justin added, “I never planned on using it like that, but I didn’t see a way out, not completely. So I slugged you low. Weapons weren’t something I ever signed up for, but now….” He supposed he couldn’t get into his current predicament with Scarecrow, how he couldn’t afford to lose anymore, how he’d have to do whatever it took. Fucking Scarecrow. “My handler said it was because you wouldn’t lose. No one would bet against you.”
“So you even went against the Shadow Masters, as you call them?”
Jesus. Justin hadn’t thought about it in those terms before. “Yeah, I guess. I didn’t really think it through.” Thank God he’d given a hell of a fight, or who knows what might have happened to him for so blatant a—
Justin felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked behind him to where Hale was leaning against the tree, and met the man’s eyes. They were serious and soulful. “Thanks, Justin. My career—hell, my life as I know it—it would be gone if not for you. You might think no one noticed, but I did. So thanks.”
So he had noticed. Holy shit—Black Jim had just given him props—had thanked him. Justin couldn’t hold back a smile. And what was that feeling that was coming along with it? A newfound sense of bravado. “You’re welcome,” Justin said. “You know, I would have kicked your ass if I hadn’t had to go easy on you.”
He almost wanted to take it back, but then Hale opened his mouth and laughed, his eyes crinkling at the sides. As young as he looked, he was older than Justin. “I’m not sure about that, but you definitely wouldn’t be looking at this beautiful mug here,” Hale said, gesturing to his face. It sure was a beautiful mug.
“Who are they?” Justin asked quickly. “The people behind Shadow Fray?” He resumed his forward gaze after asking the question so as not to stare. Somewhere overhead a chattering squirrel filled the brief silence.
“The Shadow Masters? I don’t know,” Hale said. “I have an idea. My handler, Benz, he’s my brother-in-law—”
“The one taking care of your daughter?”
“Yes. He’s a former… I don’t really know what to call it. Muscle? Hitman? Anyway, he used to work for some people. He still does, but not in the same capacity. They’re people who run a lot of different… investments. Any way you can think of to make money, they have their hands in it. Gambling and drugs for sure. Politics maybe. He works at the Excalibur in Chicago. I don’t know, and I don’t think he knows, who these people actually are. Certainly we don’t know names. I don’t even know if Shadow Fray is all one big organization or if it’s representative of competing factions, a way for different gaming houses to make money.” Justin nodded. What Hale was saying made sense. Anyone making their
best guess would have said the same, and it was what the media speculated after the Mutual Conglomerate Arena. Organized crime basically.
Hale took a big breath before continuing. “All I really know is they asked Benz to get involved, find someone to fight. At the time I was ready to put a bullet in my own head. I was young enough, scrappy, and needed something to live for. My death wish was an asset at first. I was a fucking beast. Gradually I started taking care of myself. The game became important. So did my family. In a way, Benz saved my life.”
“He sounds like a nice guy,” Justin said, trying to be supportive. “I wouldn’t have thought…. I mean, the guy is built like a tank.”
“He’s a good guy to have your back. But what about you? How did you get into it?”
Justin wasn’t sure how all of his pieces fit together. He’d learned too much in the last few weeks. “I think it’s because I have a kind of… benefactor. He’s been a friend of my family for as long as I can remember. He always kept an eye on us. He said—well, I think he might have been one of the people you talked about having investments. He might have even used that word. When I was young, he had me training, all different fighting styles. I never stuck with one for too long. Wrestling, jujitsu, MMA—some of the trainers seemed just off the street. Our rise has a little gym—a weight room, really, but I’d train there or at a couple different places nearby, a month or two at a time, from before I started school all the way until I was sixteen.”
Justin paused. He didn’t want to go into this next part. Good thing he wasn’t in a position to look Hale in the eye. But how much should he say? Hale had been pretty open and honest, so he should probably return the favor. Maybe this was what Griz had been talking about, that friendship wasn’t easy. Justin took a breath and continued.
“When I was sixteen, my mom died, and my benefactor left town. It was just me and my sister and our two-year-old brother. We dropped out of school. I tried to find work but couldn’t. Gin was the only one who could, and it wasn’t enough. I stayed home with Charlie during the day, and at night sometimes she….” He was unable to find the words to finish the sentence. But he did want to keep going. He suddenly had the urge to power on, to get it all out, like he was vomiting words. He’d never told this to anyone.
“We owned our condo, but we still had to survive. It wasn’t easy. Some guys she’d bring back to our place, but we couldn’t do that all the time, and I couldn’t leave Charlie alone. No matter what, though, I always had her back. She can take care of herself, but if a guy stepped out of line, I was there. It wasn’t often, but it wasn’t rare either.” He was rambling, could feel his temperature rising as his hands fisted at his side. The words kept coming. “That’s how I got my knuckles bloody. That’s how I really learned to fight. Unless you want to put someone down permanently, you have to learn how to hit hard and hit fast, so they won’t get up until after you’re gone, and they’d never think to fucking come near you again.”
Justin flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was just Hale, but he had to suppress his first instinct to turn and stick the guy in the face. He sensed Hale tense up, as if he knew what Justin was thinking. Stupid emotions. The guy was just trying to be nice, and at least he wasn’t saying anything. Might as well keep talking and be done with it. Justin took a couple deep breaths and relaxed into the touch, even as he kept his eyes forward.
“When Charlie started school, Gin and I could both work at Lighthouse, and that helped. We’ve had a few lean years for sure, but we get by. My first handler, Joe—I think he was a pusher. He came up to me after I beat down some druggie Groundlings on the street. It wasn’t a big fight or anything. The circumstances were sketchy, but when he pitched me fighting in an actual Arena for Shadow Fray, I thought, why not? I can take care of myself. Turns out he was legit. After I lost my first Fray, I didn’t know if I’d hear from him again, but eventually I got another offer. Did better. After Joe died, I needed a new handler. Luckily I had the info on my next Fray already, thought I’d try to hook up with that handler. And that’s it.” Minus a few painful details about Joe in order to protect his sister, but for the most part, Justin was more honest than he’d ever been before—with anyone. He had to admit, it felt good. Freeing. He wanted to pat himself on the back. But nah, because Hale still had that hand on his shoulder.
Justin leaned back against the tree. Hale put his arm around him.
Oh God. Don’t overthink it. Maybe this is just how guys act. Slow down, heart. This is just normal guy stuff.
From the arm not around Justin’s shoulder, Hale extended a closed fist to him. It took Justin a second, but then he got it and gave Hale a fist bump. See, normal guy stuff. “What was that for?” he asked.
“Sounds like we both have been through stuff. Just felt right. Seems like you’re a good guy and I’m happy to know you. That’s all.”
Hale sounded so sincere, Justin wanted to turn and look at him. But no, their faces would be way too close. The silence grew, and he felt the need to fill it. “Next question is yours.”
Justin wanted to kick himself. It wasn’t Hale’s question. It was his. His brain wasn’t working right.
“Will you train with me?” Hale’s question didn’t immediately sink in.
“What?” In Justin’s excitement, he forgot to be embarrassed by the closeness and turned to look at Hale.
“Will you train with me?” Hale wasn’t smiling, not exactly. He looked—excited?
Maybe Justin was projecting, because oh hell yes, he’d train with Black Jim. But he didn’t want to sound overeager. Be smooth. “Well, yeah, but… what do you mean by training, I guess?” Oh God. His cheeks began to burn.
“We fight. Not all out. Well, maybe all out, if you want. After talking with you, though, I think if we’re going to stay in this game, then we need to come up with new strategies. Disarming an opponent, for instance. And it would really help to have a training partner.”
As amazing as that sounded, Scarecrow’s recent warning still made Justin cautious. It would be breaking the rules. “Are you sure it’s safe? I mean, the weight room at my rise isn’t appropriate for sparring between two grown men. Do you have a place?”
“Why not right here?”
“Now?”
“No, not now. But we can start tomorrow. Just a couple hours in the morning. We can park the truck and it shouldn’t be noticed, as long as it’s not the only one. If I meet you at six, we can be here before sunrise. It’ll give us plenty of time to train and get back to work.”
Justin looked up. The leaves would soon be off the trees, and they wouldn’t have much cover. “What about the drones? I don’t want to be paranoid, but—”
“No, I get it. We do need to be careful. Let me take care of that.”
How? That didn’t make much sense, but training in the woods for one day wouldn’t exactly be suspicious even if they were seen. Would it? Or was he throwing caution to the wind in order to fight Black Jim again? Even sitting still, Justin began to sweat—but it wasn’t nervous sweat this time. He was excited. A lot. For more reasons than he cared to analyze.
“Tomorrow,” Justin said. “Sure. We can take it from there, I guess.” Hale smiled for real this time. Despite small laugh lines, the smile made him look like a kid, brightening those blue eyes.
Suddenly they were too close. Justin sprang up, dusting off his jeans. “How old are you, anyway?” he asked.
“Thirty-six. You?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Shit, I feel old. Help me up, would you?” Hale extended his hand and Justin grabbed it, lifting him to his feet. He noticed how dirt and leaves clung to the seat of Hale’s black jeans, and he had the urge to help him brush off.
“We should get back to work, I suppose,” Justin said.
Hale nodded. “Just one more thing, before we get back in the truck and I can’t ask you anymore, and then I swear while we drive you can ask me anything non-Fray. But I want to know about your handler. Sc
arecrow. Tell me about him.”
Justin found himself unable to meet Hale’s eyes. His hands automatically clenched. “I’d rather not.”
“Benz told me, vaguely, about what happened after I left the church. That’s partly why I had him follow you. I had the sense you might be in trouble. Are you?”
Justin didn’t want to talk about Gin and Scarecrow, but maybe he could skirt around that. He nodded. “Until very recently I thought I would kill Scarecrow myself.”
“And now?”
Justin clenched his teeth. Fuck it. He was all in. “He fucked my sister. I want to kill him, but a friend advised me not to.”
Hale’s eyes widened. “Shit. I’d say that’s trouble.”
“The guy’s a murderer and all-around asshole. I cringe every time I have to talk to him. I hate him.” Justin nearly spat the words.
Hale took a step toward him. “Then I need you on my team. I don’t know how yet, but I promise you—Benz is a great guy. The best. I know he’d take you on. I guarantee it.”
“You don’t have to do that.” The offer was too good to be true. Impossible. And this was Justin’s mess, his responsibility. He didn’t need to be rescued. Why did everyone think he was so weak? He could seriously punch Hale—though that was more the lingering anger that came with thinking about Scarecrow. Christ, he needed a damn sedative today. “Thanks, but I can handle it. I can take care of myself.”
Hale must have sensed his feelings, because he put his hands up in a calming gesture. “Of course you can. It’s not about that. I think you’re fucking fierce. That’s why it would be good for us to look out for each other. It’s for me as much as you. Besides, you nearly beat me. I’m sure I could do it again, but if you’re on my team, I won’t have to.” Hale was baiting him. The smirk said as much, but Justin decided to ignore it. In all honesty it would solve everything and bring him closer to Black Jim. Too good to be true or perfect solution? Maybe only time would tell, but it was worth a shot.
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