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Chapter -1- Pinned Down

Thursday, December 9, 2049 Lower Romania ...

"I've never seen a were-tiger before," said Rama Darken with a frown. The twenty-six year old werewolf was fully transformed and had his dapple black and grey furry back up against the side of a rental SUV.

The front bumper was ripped clean and it was up against the trunk of an abandoned sedan, pulled off the dirt road.

"He's the last one left," Rufus said. Rufus Darken was Rama's father. The large black-furred werewolf's ears lowered back on his head. "Falcon's people know this clan of tigers hunt our kind for a living, so they hired those bastards and gave'em mercenaries and guns."

Aimee grimaced, keeping her head down behind the back tire of the SUV. "That's the group that attacked the village in Seattle?" She looked over at Rama, the man she planned to marry one day. She wanted nothing more than to survive so she could make her romantic dream into a reality.

"Reckon so," Rufus said. "Those are the dickheads who attacked your tribe, girl." Rue, a nickname his friends called him, dug his paws into the dirt and threw a clump back towards the ditch in frustration. "I hate being pinned-the-fuck-down like this. Ain't nothing good come of it."

Rama peered beneath the SUV at the attack convoy out in the field. "Will they hurt mom?"

"If they hurt their hostage, they're stupid. But if they kill us, they ain't got no reason to keep'er alive."

Rama made a fist and drew it back. He paused, just short of striking the quarter panel of the SUV. "If I was those guys, I would flank, send a group into the woods a little ways down, have them circle around and approach us from behind. If we're surrounded, we die."

Rufus looked around and then back at the trees. "Good call, brother. Let's get our tails in the forest. Be careful and keep yer heads down as you come back up that ditch. It gets awful high near the tree line. And climbin' upwards won't make it quick or easy. We'll be targets."

Rama offered Rufus a quirky sort of grin. "You really are concerned more about us than yourself, aren't you? You're nothing like what I thought you'd be."

"Yeah?" Rufus peered over the hood of the SUV, trying to see if there were any snipers, but he couldn't see anything.

"I expected you to be stern and stuffy. I always thought that was my mom's preference when I was a kid, because _she_was always stern and stuffy with me."

Aimee crept towards the ditch. "Yeah, until you hit eighteen, from what I hear. Then she started to lighten up because you were an adult." She moved into the ditch, staying low. "Be careful, boys. The ground is wet from recent snow melt. It'll make climbing harder." She put her paws against the angled incline. "Actually, it's really soggy. The ground is too soft to climb back out towards the tree line."

Rama punched the SUV quarter panel. He took a deep breath and relaxed. "Okay. Do we have any road flares? We need something to create a distraction." He paused and frowned. "Never mind. No point. They're watching our every move."

Rufus approached Rama and put his paws on the young man's furry elongated muzzle. "You got that natural born leader thing goin' on, brother. The oracle said you gonna lead our race from the verge of extinction."

"I..." Rama shrugged.

"What's yer first instinct?"

"One of us ignite the fuel tank of the sedan we drifted into. When it goes up, that person drives away in the SUV. The other two stay in the ditch, low as possible. That's a diversion for the other two to make it to the tree line. Those two would stay behind the burning sedan. The flames will cover the ascension on the other side of the ditch."

Rufus nodded. "I'll take the SUV."

"Whoa, wait, I just got you back in my life. That's not a safe job!"

"Yeah, and you're the future leader of the werewolves," said Rue, adding, "And that there girl is gonna be your wife. Being a leader means making shit calls. You send me, you protect the future mother of yer children."

Rama licked his lips apprehensively. "Dead people make terrible parents. Ask me how I know - I thought you were dead growing up."

Rufus gave the side of Rama's muzzle a firm pat. "Chin up, brother. We've got this. I'll drive fifty yards'er so, then plow into the ditch, climb up onto the roof or hood, and make my way up inna tree line. We square on that?"

"Alright. When they advance, we'll look for an opportunity to take one of their vehicles. Preferably the one with mom."

"Sounds good." Rufus opened the back door of the SUV, reached in, and withdrew distress flairs. He held them so Rama would see them. "And yeah, hoss, we got flares. See? Useful. Never doubt your instinct."

Rama peered over the hood of the SUV, watching the convoy waiting in the field. A round struck the hood and angled on the understructure. It came out four inches away from Rama's shoulder.

"Holy hell," he hissed, crawling back down behind the front tire. "That should have gone right through the car and through me."

"Musta hit somethin' beneath the panel. Maybe we got fate on our side, brother."

Rama ran his paws over his face. "Aimee, I promise, in the future, I'm not going to keep putting us in the line of fire."

"Rama, you got us out of the diner; you'll get us out of this." She gave him a reassuring smile. "We can't die. The oracle claimed our son will lead our race into golden age, remember?"

Rufus grinned at his offspring. "That girl gotta point."

"Yeah but no one mentions you or my mother in that stupid prophesy," Rama said.

Another gunshot rang out. The round pierced the SUV's front door, traveled straight through the cabin, and out through the opposite front door. It disappeared in the wet grass of the sloped ditch.

Silence.

Rufus sighed. "They's using high power shit, now. Only a matter of time 'afore they hit one of us." He crawled up to the sedan and lit one of the distress flairs. He wedged it into the ground beneath the sedan's gas tank.

Rue climbed back towards the SUV, opened the front door and paused to observe the hole in the interior paneling. "Holy shit." He placed his paw over the hole in the door.

"What?"

"These sons of bitches are shooting goddamn elephant gun rounds at us."

"What?"

Rufus nodded to the massive holes in the two front doors. "I ain't seen a round this big in years. Maybe ... maybe, like, seven hundred Nitro Express. What's the goddamn point? They think we're fuckin' rhinos or something?"

"I don't know enough about guns to argue. Are we in trouble?"

"High penetrating power, but it damn-sight ain't a sniper's first choice. It's more of a personal touch. If this wacko uses somethin' that big, it's all about his signature." Rufus traced his padded fingertips over the hole. "Might be a twenty millimeter round."

"I hope that stupid gas tank hurries up."

"Yeah." Rufus frowned thoughtfully and said, "I hope there's enough gas in the tank to do a damn bit of good."

"As soon as it blows up, we'll head up the ditch behind the blaze."

Rue nodded and pulled his son into a quick hug. "We'll get'cher mother back."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I ain't promising," Rufus said with a soft tone. "I'm just being optimistic."

All at once a fireball erupted from beneath the sedan. It wasn't big enough to lift the car; it didn't explode the way Rama expected. Instead, the explosion was a simple orange ball that reached outwards, and then upwards.

Rama dove into the ditch. He worked alongside of Aimee to make their way up the cold, steep slope of the muddy grass.

Meanwhile, Rufus pulled himself into the rental SUV, which was still running. A red light was illuminated on the dash panel, showing the left front and left rear tires were flat.

He shifted into reverse, backed away from the burning sedan, and pulled the shifter down to 'drive.' Rue floored the accelerator and pulled around the sedan.

A loud thump stuck the beam between the front and rear door, just behind Rufus's hip. It tore through the lumbar support of both front seats, but exited through the rear door handle.

The lone wolf cut the wheel wide and plowed into the ditch roughly fifty meters up ahead. He flung the driver door open, climbed up onto the hood and dove towards the tree line.

Rufus snagged his fingers around a root sticking out of the hillside and pulled himself up from the ditch and into the dense forest.

An enormous gunshot echoed in the distance. Rufus couldn't be sure if they were targeting him or his son. He hurried through the woods until he couldn't see the dirt road or the field anymore.

Rue doubled back in the general direction of his son and sniffed at the air.

He came up behind a man wearing a strange suit. The armor plating covered the soldier from head to toe like a futuristic version of some medieval knight.

Rufus approached the soldier from behind, moving slow and silently.

Upon closer inspection, he thought it resembled some sort of exoskeleton. A grimace of frustration tugged at the corner of his muzzle. He bared his teeth, moving silently through the forest.

The man in the suit whirled around.

Rufus could see part of the man's face through a transparent faceplate. The soft glow of letters and statistics showed over the man's face, creating a colored glow on his cheeks and eyes.

The soldier lifted his weapon and a targeting reticule appeared in the glass faceplate.

Rue could tell the man had a targeted lock on his black-furred forehead.

"That there is right fancy technology," Rue said, calmly, trying to be diplomatic.

"Yeah?" said the soldier, "You like this?" His voice was slightly tinny, coming through slits that looked like gills on the front of the facemask.

"I see the lil' images and such. I see the lil' box changed color, cause you pointin' yer gun at me. Real impressive stuff. But I ain't here to kill y'all."

"I am," said the soldier. "The HUD icon changed color because if I pull the trigger, it's a lethal kill. It looks like I'm aiming from the hip, but this will put a round right through your skull. Now, my orders were to bring you in alive. So ... if you tell me where the other two went, and if all three of you surrender, then I won't pull the trigger."

Rue tilted his head. His ears perked up, listening to the silence in the area. "You part of a kill squad. Why ain't you pulled the trigger yet?'

"I don't know, but those are my orders. What ... dialect of English is that?"

"The fine state of Georgia," Rufus replied, keeping his body ready but his voice soft and peaceful. "You got some sorta European thing goin'. Ever been to America? Girls love accents - it's sexy 'n cultured."

The man didn't reply.

Rufus could tell by the look in the man's eyes that he was afraid but not necessarily terrified. Rue's tongue passed across his muzzle, slowly licking his lips. "Okay, so we're cool right?"

"No," said the soldier. "We're not cool. And I'm not European. I'm from fucking Montana, but I've been here, speaking European languages so goddamn long ... I just didn't recognize ... what the hell is 'Georgia' anyway? That's a country south of Russia."

Rufus blinked. "It were a state inna United States, ya dumbass. Reckon it part of The DC now."

"I don't give a shit about things from before I was born," said the soldier. "You talk funny and your grammar is terrible. Where are your friends, you dumb animal?"

The werewolf stood up straight and relaxed his paws at his sides, staring at the man with an incredulous gaze. "You shittin' me? I'm dumb? You's the one that dunno about Georgia State! Get'cher ass back into social studies class, kid."

"Do you want me to shoot you?"

"No, kid, I want you following them-there orders you got from yer boss. You bring me in alive. Not for my sake - following orders is just good work ethic, son."

A proximity warning flashed in the man's suit faceplate. He whirled around but saw nothing behind him.

Rama dropped from a tree, landing on the man's shoulders. The soldier dropped to the ground, motionless.

Rufus hurried forward, gave Rama a push and said, "Move, move! We gotta haul ass! They's prolly monitoring that kid's suit functions. If he down, they'll zero in on'em."

"If we run, we'll leave tracks," Rama hissed, shoved into a quick pace by his father.

"Get distance before we step lightly," Rue said, "We can change direction later. Just move."

Aimee was up ahead, holding a grey wolf carcass over her shoulders. "I have a feeling we won't be staying at a hotel," she said. She hoisted the wolf carcass. "Fenris was kind. We'll need to make camp and eat while we hunt that convoy from afar."

"I'll take it," Rama said. He approached her and eased the timber wolf's body from her shoulders. "Clean kill, hon. Neck?"

"I didn't want him to suffer." She relinquished the body to Rama. "No sign of his pack. Let's move."

Rama took point and adjusted the backpack on his left shoulder.

Rufus approached his son. "You got everyone's clothes, the fresh kill and you're taking point? You don't have to do everything. A good leader knows how to delegate."

Rama grinned. "When it's time to put you two to work, I'll work you. Okay? I appreciate your support, wanting to help me live up to this ... this prophecy, but I like working. I like taking point because I trust my nose, my eyes and my ears. I like carrying the gear - I like the weight. It's honest work."

Rufus smiled inwardly, feeling pride well up in his gut. "Fair enough."

Aimee said to Rama, "Lead the way, oh werewolf messiah."

Rama smirked in reply. "Technically, it's our son who is the savior of the race. Thankfully, you don't have to stay a virgin for the whole thing to work."

"I'm glad you're keeping your sense of humor, Rama. I promise we'll get through this."

"I know. I'm staying optimistic," he replied. "Let's keep moving. We'll eat and then we'll hunt those assholes. When we find out where they've got mom, we'll plan out our next move." Rama glanced back at his father and added, "That guy I dropped on - what the hell was he wearing?"

"Hell if I know," Rufus said. "But I think them suits were made to help against bites 'n claws. It's a good thing ya' broke his neck."

"Yeah. I didn't want to chance fighting the guy until I know more about the stupid suit."

Rufus smiled. "Smart."

The trio made their way deeper into the forest.

X

X

Twelve hours later South Pacific ...

Everything happened so fast. Water rushed in through the shattered hull of the fishing boat.

Conner Parker snatched his cane and pushed it into its sheath. He pulled on a strap, locking it down tight.

The teenaged boy adjusted his cane's holster so that the secured staff was perpendicular across his stomach. In the moment it took to adjust everything, the water became knee deep.

Conner's uncle, James Parker, sat up from his nap, surprised by the sensation of water. Jaye picked up a different rod, known as the Nehushtan. The twenty-six year old young man looked around at the chaos. "Did we hit a rock?!"

Conner ground his teeth together in disgust. "We were fired on. Long range mortar or some sort of howitzer. It hit the aft and killed the engine. The back of the boat is on fire."

James clenched the staff of Moses tightly. "How far are we from the island?"

Conner turned to his uncle. "Calm down. You need to control your breathing. You'll need it to swim. We're not far."

"What if they fire on us in the life raft?"

"It was on the back; it was destroyed."

"What if they fire on us? The life vests are bright orange!"

Conner nodded in agreement. "Then we won't use them."

The water was hip deep and the fishing boat began to list from the ocean rushing in on the starboard side faster than the port.

"You got everything we'll need to save?"

Conner nodded firmly. "I do. Let's move. Whoever is shooting has hit us once already; we're still a target. We have to get in the water before the next shot takes us out."

"How're we going to get back off the island?"

Conner shrugged. "I guess we'll figure out all the details if we survive." He reached for the staff of Moses. "I don't have a place on my holster for that. Do you want me to hold onto it for you?"

"No," James said in a firm tone. "It's my burden. I'm not going to have you drown trying to swim with two metal poles. I'll make do."

"You sure?"

James gave Conner a shove. "Like you said, we're a target. Get in the water."

Conner grimaced. He made his way towards the front of the cabin and opened a small square hatch leading up to the sundeck. He gave a strong tug on his cane, twisting it in the holster so that he could fit through the hatch.

James followed his nephew up onto the deck. Jaye sat on the edge of the hatch and kicked off his soggy shoes. He pulled himself the rest of the way up with Conner. He turned to look around.

The island was nearly two miles out.

James mouthed a swear. He took a deep breath. "God. This water is choppy."

Conner knelt down on the front deck. There was a box with fishing rods and binoculars. He took out the binoculars and peered into them. "It's further than the swim from Alcatraz to Fisherman's Wharf, but the water isn't nearly as cold."

"Good. I didn't bring my neoprene," James said, the sarcasm bitter in his voice. "Can you see if they're firing from shore or a small ship?"

"The gun is on the island," Conner said. The ship continued to shift.

The Parker boys moved with the angling of the hull, balancing on a rail closest to the waterline.

Conner added, "They have to load shells one at a time. I see one of them carrying the next round from a crate to the goddamn gun. Get moving."

"Women and children first."

Conner smirked. "Look, there's a sandbar not far from here. Follow me. But we'll be targets on the sandbar. Between the sandbar and the island, it gets really deep again, but it's not as choppy. It's a horseshoe shape around the island."

James gave Conner a shove into the water. "Move!"

Conner released the binoculars, leaving them to sink with the twenty-foot boat.

James dove into the water and surfaced several feet from Conner with the Nehushtan in his left fist. "Move."

"Pace yourself," Conner called back, keeping his chin up so as not to take a mouthful of choppy water. "Don't make yourself tired. We'll make it if we take our time."

James began a lopsided crawl-stroke, keeping the staff of Moses in his left hand and swimming with his right.

Conner grimaced. "When we get to shore, we're going to be too tired to mount an offensive," he called over to his uncle, adding, "We'll need to head into the woods behind the mountain, there. We'll have to..."

"I get it," James called back. "Save it, Conner, before you drink salt water."

Conner scowled but didn't reply.

Together, they made their way towards a sandbar in the distance.

Behind them, the fiberglass shell of their rented boat shattered into pieces. The following round was a direct hit on the semi-exposed keel.

The fuel line ignited but the explosion was lackluster at best. Pieces of boat burned, most of the hull sank below the choppy waves.

They struggled in silence, headed towards shore.

Nearly twenty minutes passed. Up ahead, the remains of a wrecked vessel could be seen against the sandbar. The hull was riddled with fist-sized holes, likely used for target practice at some point.

"Over there," Conner huffed. "We can take a break in that thing."

"I don't remember that being there," James shouted back over the waves. "You think those idiots wrecked and marooned themselves here?"

"Wouldn't surprise me," Conner panted. He couldn't be sure if his uncle heard him, nor did he care at this point. Conner knew he could make it to shore in one attempt if he didn't have the drag of the cane on his abdomen.

Worse yet, Conner had to stay near his uncle, who was swimming with a handicap, clinging to a priceless artifact. Conner felt the water drag against the cane on his torso, and knew it had to be even harder for James to keep a tight grip on his own staff.

Despite feeling held back by staying close to his uncle, Conner felt immense respect for James swimming so long in such rough water with a six-foot metal rod. Not to mention the fact his uncle was new to this lifestyle. His uncle also wasn't training since he was a child.

All things considered, Conner saw great potential in his uncle.

Another ten minutes of swimming, and the two approached the wrecked boat. It had been halfway dragged off the sandbar by the current, and was precariously angled upward on the slope of the seabed beneath the waves.

Conner pulled himself up over the side of the hull. He carefully braced his feet on a chrome handrail. "Reach the cane up this way and I'll pull you up." He held a hand out, using his other to hold onto a mooring cleat.

James switched the staff to his other hand and reached it up. He felt himself pulled upwards and found a place for his feet to brace.

The hull was slippery but, somehow, they managed to pull one another aboard. Both grunted. They spilled to the angled deck side by side, panting hard.

"Come alone without help," James grumbled. "We don't need people who can teleport. No, not us. No way. We're better than that."

"Quit complaining," Conner said with an amused, tired smile. "If Karla came, they would have sunk her yacht."

"We wouldn't have brought it," James quipped. "We would have flown to Hawaii, just like we did, and came the same way we did. But we'd have had someone who could teleport us to the island. Boom, right into the forest without being seen."

Conner sighed. "We made it this far without Karla, didn't we?"

"What's the deal between you two?"

"I thought you knew."

James sighed. "You're talking about what _Tamamo_did?"

"Yeah."

James brought his staff to his chest, resting it parallel over his body. He wrapped both arms around it, loosely. "You guys have been fighting long before that. Besides, that wasn't Karla's fault."

"Our personalities clash," said Conner. He spoke calmly, trying to relax his resting heart rate. "And now, whenever I see her, I feel like I cheated on Tamae. It's ... I know I didn't cheat on Tamae - I would never do that. It's just ... every time I see Karla, I remember more than I want."

"I thought you slept through it."

"Tamae encouraged me to 'feed the succubus.' I thought that meant like ... a blowjob. And I feel like shit for even going _that_far. Well, Tamamo had Karla strip and she took my hand and guided it between her legs. Karla's a pretty girl, but it was like fucking my goddamn sister. We argue like siblings."

James opened his mouth to reply but couldn't think of how to word what he wanted to say.

Conner eased up on his elbow and added, "No. Don't, Uncle Jaye. I know my parents did that and it freaks me out. Okay? I didn't grow up with Karla, just like my parents didn't grow up with each other. And I'm not attracted to her like that. Also, I don't want to hear about 'GSA' or whatever. Karla and I argue like _normal_siblings. We've always had that. That was our thing. Having sex with her ruined our weird chemistry."

James frowned.

Conner continued. "I see her walk down the deck in her skirt and ... there's a part of me who remembers what she looks like beneath that skirt. I hear her voice and I remember what she sounded like when she was whining and moaning and all that shit. It's disturbing. It's haunting. I don't want to think of that, and I'm disgusted to be told that I ...i came in her. And now she's starting to remember. So that means she remembers everything about it with me."

James remained silent.

"And, even worse, she'll remember the parts I slept through. She remembers what it was like to sit on my junk. She got off, and enjoyed it, and I slept through it. I came in that woman's body twice, in two different places. That's territory I never wanted to mark, okay?"

James rolled his head to the side, meeting Conner's gaze. "I still love you as family. Tamae still loves you as a husband." He reached over and took Conner's left hand. "See? See your ring? I respect you Conner. You're young and you've figured out your life. You're married. You're in love, and Tamae is a great woman. She'll make a great wife, and a great mom."

Conner sighed through his nose. He couldn't help but appreciate his uncle's ability to change the mood. "Yeah, Tamae is great." He looked down along his torso and sighed again. Part of his cane was lying across James' stomach.

"You going to be okay?"

"That's for letting me gripe."

James chuckled. "It's unhealthy to bottle that crap, Conner. You needed to get it off your chest - I get that. Just because I didn't know you until recently doesn't make me any less of an uncle. If you need a shoulder, you'll always have mine. Vent away."

"Even when we're shipwrecked in the middle of the South Pacific?"

James looked up at the sky. "My cellphone was in that boat. Not that we have signal out here, but ... it looks like we're stuck here with those clowns."

Conner reached across himself, over to his uncle, and gave James' shoulder a slap. "There's power on the island. All green, yadda yadda - there are satellite phones there, and we can charge them up when we get into the vault."

James offered a thin smile. "That's encouraging. Do you know Tamae's number?"

"Nope. Do you know Rachel's number?"

"I just dial it from my contact's list," James said. "Do you know anyone's number?"

"Never needed to memorize anyone's number before." Conner frowned. "If I lose a phone, I just put in my account information and all my contacts sync to the new phone. I've never ... shit. Shit, man! We can't call anyone!"

James brought his palms up to his face and started laughing into his hands. "What kind of food supplies do we have to live on?"

"The vault hasn't been stocked for at least ... what, a month? God. We're going to drown, we're going to be shot repeatedly, and then we're going to starve."

James sat up, pushing Conner's staff away so he could sit. He leaned against part of the angled hull, using the deck as a backrest. "There's got to be something reflective in the vault. You guys have so many things in there worth money. We call for Tamamo to help us. She pulls us through the mirror, we're saved."

Conner frowned. "I used to think my grandfather was crazy because he never allowed any mirrors on the island. Reflective surfaces are usually small, or made of polished orichalcum."

"What's special about orichalcum mirrors?"

"Deities can't pass through. Anyhow, it's obvious he knew about deities and all that stuff. He was married to Sinopa, so of course he knew. But, yeah, he made it so the gods couldn't steal from the family vault. Isn't that rich?"

"About as rich as your pun. That vault has enough money to buy the government of every country across the globe, give or take a few bucks."

"Funny." Conner lifted his hand and pointed to a bullet hole next to James. "Careful, man. You might cut yourself on exit points."

James reached over and ran his finger over the hole where a bullet once entered the hull. "This thing is Swiss cheese. Looks like fifty caliber rounds or something. I've fired a lot of different guns at the range - I called it 'research' for my comic."

"How's that coming anyhow?"

James grinned at his nephew. "Hiatus until I finish helping you save the world. Priorities, you know?"

"I hate priorities sometimes. That's where it starts. Suddenly, you're making responsible decisions. Bam, before you know it, you're an adult, married, talking about becoming a parent ... it's scary."

"Growing up?"

"Yeah."

James nodded. "I lived in an apartment for free, was unemployed, and drawing illustrations. Guess what? Cartoons don't pay the bills. I lived on mommy-bucks." James grew quiet rather abruptly.

"What?"

"That money didn't come from my mother. She never worked for it. It came from a man I never met. And what did I do with that money? I watched cartoons and played video games and called that 'research' for my comic. I drank chocolate milk at four in the morning."

Conner shrugged, glad to bond with James, but more importantly, he was glad to take a rest from swimming and being shot at. "Oh, I don't know, you don't seem irresponsible to me."

"This, coming from a teenager?" James laughed. "I'm kidding. It's just ... I had a lot of growing up to do in a short time. I've always been told my father was very stern and had obsessive work ethic."

Conner nodded. "You got that honestly."

"Tch. I was a lazy..."

"No, Uncle Jaye. When the world handed you a strange situation, you throw yourself into it. You've worked yourself to the bone. You've trained hard. You just swam nearly a mile in choppy water with one hand."

"Maybe I should take it more seriously, and stop stuffing my face with ice cream. I need to keep in mind that people died because the last battle against Aris Falcon failed. I need to keep in mind that I'm the next soldier in line."

"I'm told your father had a sweet tooth. When it came to ice cream, he gave in to his weakness by rewarding himself with it after every heist."

"Yeah?"

Conner nodded. "Ice cream, man. And JC Parker took his job so serious that it cost him his life."

"No, my stepfather did it. My mother, too." James licked his lips. "The people who raised me are the people who murdered my father. How screwed up is that?"

Conner frowned. "I wasn't going to say it. But anyway ... Sinopa and Karla were talking about it. Yeah, I'm not sure your stepdad made all those choices with full understanding of what he was doing."

"What do you mean?"

"He's not very personable, but he doesn't seem like the kind of person to plot murder because he covets someone's wife."

James opened his mouth but couldn't find his voice. "Just..." He shook his head.

"Karla thinks he was manipulated. I'm not saying Mr. Watson was right to do what he did. But a killer? No, he's not that."

"I've been avoiding the situation," James said. "I haven't been calling my folks lately. I just ... I avoid it. I'm focused on the family I have now - Rachel, you, Carmen, Tamae, and all these great people surrounding the lot of you."

Conner shook his head and laughed.

"What?"

Conner held his hand up, waving in a dismissing fashion, "No, no, it's not..." he broke into hysterics. He took a moment to get the laughter out of his system, breathed deep, and said, "Sorry."

"What was that all about?"

Conner shook his head again. "Sorry, sorry man, I'm sorry. It's just ... how ridiculous is this?"

"Oh." James grinned. "Yeah. This is neither the time nor the place." He thumped the back of his head gently against the angled hull. "We've never really talked like this before."

"Yeah, but now?"

"I believe the term is 'box therapy.' It's a story gimmick we comic writers use to make two characters get along."

"We never had any issues, Uncle Jaye. I feel like we already get along."

"You needed to vent about what happened with Tamamo. You opened up, and then I opened up, and ... now, here we are, having a moment."

"My wife and your fiancée would be proud of us," said Conner. "Chicks love gabbing. And here we are, acting like two giddy school girls, gossiping about a sex scandal and some Shakespearian murder."

James shrugged. "Don't romanticize it. There's nothing Shakespearian about the death of my father, your grandfather. And to make matters worse, my parents disappear for almost a year. I thought they were dead. Then Gregory shows up out of the blue and betrays Karla like that? He has a _lot_of explaining to do."

Conner frowned. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right, Uncle Jaye. Sorry." His voice was softer, and polite. "I didn't mean to make light of it."

"I'm not upset, Conner. It's how you deal with something you can't fix. I get it."

"I didn't mean to be disrespectful."

"It's fine, I promise." James sighed. "I can't remember for sure, but I don't recall you being the apologetic type. The sincerity is refreshing, but I'm not upset with you. I promise."

"I'm good at upsetting people, I just didn't want you to be one of them."

"Conner ... either one of us might step off this stupid boat and wind up shot dead. If it happens, I've made my peace with ... whatever. If I die, I want you to take care of Rachel for me. Make sure she never struggles or goes hungry, alright? Can you do that for me?"

Conner exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't believe they were having this conversation. "Yeah, Uncle Jaye. But you have to do the same. If something happens to me, you make sure Tamae is well off and you make sure she stays away from the wrong people."

"Of course. Now we just have to make sure at least one of us survives ... both would be preferable."

"Yeah, amen to that." A loud thump against the boat's hull caused both of them to pause. Conner licked his lips. "It's like they have the best timing or something. Really. The best ... goddamn ... timing."

"Yeah." James looked down at the staff he'd been clutching. "We can sit here until the tide comes in and drowns us. Or we can expose ourselves as we get closer to the island."

"The tide's coming in now?"

James nodded downward. "When we climbed aboard this thing, the water wasn't quite to my feet. Now it's to my ankles. So ... there's that, right?"

"Why don't you use the goddamn staff of Moses and down those assholes?"

James scoffed. "Do I look like a biblical figure?"

"I'm out of ideas here." Conner pushed his tongue tip into his broken molar, a tick he'd picked up since having some of his teeth shattered some time ago. "Just ... look, I've had conversations with a freaking ... angel. I've seen a world of deities. Just try it."

James laughed inwardly, in spite of the insanity around them. "Why not, right?" He rubbed his torso. "You remember when Joe Junior stabbed me?"

"Joe-fuckin'-Pendleton. Yeah. I flipped out on him."

"Uh-huh. After all that swimming, the muscles are all knotted up in that area. You think, after all the time I've had to heal, that I'm still messed up over that? Or do you think it's mental pain because I'm about to go up against that jerk again?"

"He's going to hurt a lot more when we kick his ass."

"Yeah." James flinched at another loud thump against the boat hull. "You cuss a lot for someone your age."

"I just don't hold back around you. I try and keep a lid on it around the girls, and around my parents and all but ... I feel like I can be myself around you."

James chuckled. "Stay classy, bud."

Conner frowned. "You're right. I should have enough self respect that I don't have to try and talk tough."

James offered his nephew a wan smile. He slid down into the water. Carefully, Jaye climbed through an angled railing that disappeared into the water. He wiggled a bit and eased through it.

Another thump rang out against the boat.

James moved around the vertically-angled wreck and thrust the Nehushtan staff into the sandbar.

Nothing happened.

Another thump startled him. Pieces of fiberglass floated in the shallow water over the sandbar from where a bullet struck the nearby wreck.

James swallowed and thrust the staff into the shallow water again. "COME ON!"

Again, nothing happened.

He hurried back around behind the shipwreck just as another round struck the exposed keel. "It doesn't work, Conner! And we are definitely being targeted!"

"Dammit!" Conner shouted. He climbed up to the bow of the half-sunk wreck and peered over the edge. "Hey! Someone's coming out here in a little inflatable!"

"So we just take their craft?"

"It's about time something happened in our favor," Conner replied, calling back loud enough for his uncle to hear over the ambiance of the ocean waves. "Stay out of sight. They're on their way to make our lives easier."

"Sure as hell hope so," James replied.

---

Next Chapter: https://www.sofurry.com/view/865068