Search

"I'm telling you, This kind of stuff… there's no way it was just lying around somewhere unguarded."

"Yeah, I agree." Lucius took the bag, bundled it up tightly, lifted up a floorboard in the corner of the room, and threw the bag over several dirt-stained others. "In that case, we should probably take care of that, then, shouldn't we?"

Kent sighed. "Yeah, yeah. I'll take care of it." In the shadow of his hat, he glanced at the old man's face. Despite an honest attempt to hide his observation, which was a serious measure coming from Kenton, Lucius still caught him instantly. His disposition was wrinkled and fixed, like old tree bark— his eyes two round weathered stones embedded deep in the ancient wood. There was something eerily natural about him, as if his will was one of unstoppable force. The old man's face wasn't angry or even imploring. But it was firm as if giving a strong suggestion. It was not a look that asked for something, but more a promise of a warning. Kent looked away instinctually. "Not the legs, I'm guessing?"

Lucius grunted and turned back to his work.

Then, Kent did something he never did. But this time, his gut told him he was right, no matter how much he wanted to stuff the feeling down. So, he argued.

"Listen, Lucius. You know just as well as I do how things work. This whole island has been running on nothing for who knows how long. No help coming in, and no way out. Big groups always end up imploding. There just aren't enough things to keep the sense. Those who go run off on their own will die. Those who don't die are killers. And that kid always comes back."

They stared at each other in silence.

"You know what I'm saying we gotta do, yeah?"

Kent swallowed to revive his dry mouth as he waited for Lucius to lay down his verdict. The old man kept his eyes on him, but finally broke his stone look and scratched the back of his head. Lucius looked down, then away. "Yeah, you might be right." he said.

Kent nodded, almost in disbelief. "But we should find out just how he did it."

"Yeah."

Inside the small room, it was still quite dark given the little sunlight that shone through the dusty windowpane at this time of day. Boro lit the candle in his hand once more before blowing it out, watching the thin line of smoke draw itself up the pale morning light.

Suddenly, the door was flung open with a violent crushing sound. Part of the locking mechanism looked as if it had broken off, but the men at the door didn't seem to pay it any mind.

Kent walked over, face twisted, scrutinizing the cowering child and dog, who had awoken to the splintering wood and darted firmly to the far side of the wall by Boro. "I still can't believe it. No way a kid like you killed an adult. Not without a dirty trick of some kind."

Jon rubbed his eyes behind, still half-awake, but something that caught his attention commanded his mind to reality. "'UT'S 'AT BEHIN' YER BACK?" he bellowed, streaking into the room and virtually flinging the boy on his chest. In his small hands held a small candle in a crude oval shape, as well as a cracked lighter, still having a modest amount of fuel. Jon stared at these objects for a while, as if to process them, before mercilessly snatching them out of Boro's weak grip. He turned to his companions, then back to the objects. He muttered quietly, almost as if to himself. "He's 'een keepin' stuff from us."

"STOP!" screamed Lucius. Jon's fist stopped not even an inch from Boro's face. A wave of air that carried the cold feeling of death passed across his face. It had been so close. Fen was barking furiously next to them, but Jon just looked silently at Lucius, still angry, but withholding his actions in confused shock. "You're gonna waste the precious daytime. He won't be able to make headway if he spends half the daytime recovering."

The two others stepped into the room.

"Kent, search him."

Stepping forward toward Jon, who lifted the boy's light body in the air, Kent expertly searched for anything out of place amidst the child's protests.

His expression was blank as if he was only washing a dirty piece of clothing, but then he made a face of concerned recognition. Slowly, as his strong fingers ripped away the hastily-done threadwork, his right hand took out the four-inch blade from the hidden pouch by Boro's lower leg. It was straight and wide, with a deep grind line down the center and a harsh curve biting into the back by the tip. The hilt was a strong, polished wood. Together, it was a beautiful piece, almost a piece of art in the litter of the room. Jon's nostrils flared at the sight, while Kent twirled the weapon around in his hand as if he were playing with a dear friend.

"YA BRAT, D'YA—"

"Boro."

The voice that came out froze even Jon. Lucius watched on, silent, his arms folded.

"Do you… know what ligaments are?" Kent spun the knife into his grasp and smoothed his skin with the metal as if to give his already clean face a further shave.

No one spoke. Jon had already put Boro down, while Boro stood there, knowing that moving would be a very, very bad idea. Even Fen was compelled to take a sitting stance.

"You see, they're like little rubber strings in your body. You snap 'em, break'em, cut 'em, or something just happens, and that part doesn't work well anymore. So you have to be very careful, y'hear?" Boro nodded. "Good." said Kent, wiping the dark marks off the edge of the blade before putting it in a makeshift sheath of cloth. "Then go get ready."

With an uncharacteristically soft slap on the back from Kent, Boro and Fen ran out to the edge of the house, quickly making their preparations. Fen, scrounging around for whatever scraps the men left behind in their meals, and Boro fumbling through the small belt that he had to leave in the front room when he got back. Inside, a small pair of scissors— much duller than the knife— a spool of thread that has been used and reused many times, and the pouch for food, empty. There was the water canteen, also, which was what he was most surprised the men let him have. He supposed that there was less need for it when he would be the one venturing out anyway.

"Well? What are we going to do? He's dangerous." Kent said, holding the knife by the covered blade.

"Luc'ius, we can't keep 'im aroun' much longer." said Jon, said looking at the knife with some discomfort.

The old man walked past the two and went to the corner where he kept their storage. The two men in the room watched him rustle through things before closing it, then making his way to the child with a small wrapped bundle.

"Wha—"

"It's bread."

The two men watched speechlessly as the boy received the unexpected gift and locked it in his pouch quickly. His mind passed the idea of giving thanks, but that wasn't something he could bring himself to do in such a place. Luckily, his benefactor expected no such thing.

"Get a move on." he said.

With a faint nod, Fen and Boro ran into the woods. Fen snatched the stick he left in a nearby tree hollow for the long road, and the two quickly became a mirage in the cover of morning mist.

"What was that?" asked Kent, walking to the foot of the shelter.

Lucius asked Kent for a smoke, which startled the latter since the man never smoked. As he inhaled the fumes, Lucius gave a soft cough under his breath, as if he intended to make the sound in the first place. Extinguishing the light with his index fingers, he passed what was left back. He stared off into the quivering leaves.

"...just a little something to lower his guard."

Kent processed the words for a moment before nodding. An expression that could have been a smile passed on the edge of his face.

"I see. Good thinkin'."

Lucius turned left to Jon, who was standing outside next to Kent. "Once his guard is lowered, you know what to do, yeah?"

Jon smiled as he took the knife in Kent's outstretched hand. He unraveled the fabric and used it to clean the edge. As it gleamed viciously, Jon stared at it for some time, entranced in thought. "Oh, a'course."