Chapter 83
Chapter 83
O ver the following days, Bones relayed more of what he’d learned while under Frank’s “care,” as he liked to call it. Snippets here and there he picked up on. Frank never thought Bones would make it out alive, so he wasn’t too careful in what he revealed. In fact, the opposite was true. In an attempt to let his brother know how smart he was, he shared quite a lot. Frank was, in fact, a genius. That was never in doubt to us. Only to Frank.
His seven generals were still out there, and while Bones had been laid up, he was pretty certain they were vying to keep their spot, if not to grab the top spot. All-out war would soon erupt—if it hadn’t already. He even thought one or two might forge some sort of alliance, probably based on region or ethnicity, until the opposition was defeated. I told him that sounded a lot like politics. He nodded but made no verbal reply.
Otherworldly power and money were at stake. People weren’t going to let those things slip through their fingers. That’s when I told him again about Maynard. The phone calls. My suspicions. Bones considered this. “When we get home, I need to show you something.” I knew there was more to his statement, but I let it go. We had time.
He wanted to know about Alaska and what we found. Specifically. So I told him. Ending with the rooms containing ropes, pulleys, and cameras.
“An arm’s-length voyeur.” He nodded.
“Looks that way.”
Finally, he wanted to know about me. And when he asked, he made sure I was looking at him. “How’re you?”
“Good.”
He paused. “How long we been knowing each other?”
“Long time.”
“So you’ll understand if I don’t believe you.”
I smiled. A shrug. “Until a few days ago, not well.”
“Why?”
“Because I watched you fall down a well and your leg slipped through my hand. You were gone. I’d failed you. We’d lost. And I’d lost you.” I paused. “I had this recurring dream. Every night. Couldn’t shake it. Frank shot himself and pulled you back with him. Then I lunged but I was always a microsecond too late. And then you were gone. The splash would wake me.”
He stood, shuffled to me, wrapped his arms around me, and hugged my neck. This was no bro-hug. This was the real thing. Not father and son but in the same category. When he did, his strong arms making a vise like a bear, he whispered, “Love is a crazy thing. It’s the most powerful thing in this universe or any other. Hell has no counterpart. But love is also the most painful thing. Has no equal.” He placed both hands on my shoulders and stared at me. “And if it ever stops hurting, it’s not love.” He poked me in the chest. “Knowing the pain you will face as you lace up your boots, and yet you do, proves the immeasurable depth of your love. Which, in the end, is all that matters.”
I waited.
“Bishop, you love well.” A nod. “And I love you for it.”
Summer walked in and found us having a moment. Rather than walk away, she joined. A group hug, just the three of us. “Bones?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
“Need to talk to you about my man Murph here.”
Gunner rolled over and put his belly and paws in the air, letting out a grunt.
Bones looked amused. “Been a little moody in my absence?”
“Just a smidge.” Summer held my hand. “He’s been carrying the weight of the world on these big, broad, beautiful shoulders, and the ridiculous thought that he somehow let you down. That he failed. More specifically, that he failed you. I need you to let him know that your trip back to get Frank was a one-way trip. Was from the beginning. You let him take you. And...” Summer looked at me and stroked my hair. “That he’s not a failure.” She kissed my cheek. “Never has been.”
Bones was listening to her but looking at me. For the first time since he woke up, a tear formed in the corner of his eye. After a minute, he spoke. “The longer we do this, the higher the stakes. The greater the hurt. The more at risk. Evil doesn’t know what you know.” He tapped my chest gently. “Doesn’t have this. And the only way we defeat the darkness that rages is to love furiously. With all we got. All the time. Nothing held back. Never counting the cost.” The tear broke loose and trailed down his face, where he wiped it with the back of his hand. “You do that better than anyone I’ve ever known. The names on your back and your books on the shelf are Exhibit A before the jury.”
A pause. “I knew at your graduation, when I offered you options A and B, that A would lead to prosperity, a white picket fence, 2.5 kids, fast track to Admiral, three stars, joint chiefs. Consulting. Speaking. Power. Prestige. People would put you on a pedestal. Pay you a lot of money to speak to their organizations. Pat you on the back. Light your cigar. Life on a silver platter. I also knew you’d be miserable. You could excel in that world but you weren’t cut out for it. But option B? I didn’t sleep at all that night because I knew what option B would cost you. The toll it would exact. A big part of me wanted to protect you from that. Save you the pain. I knew it would be easier for you in this life if you never knew the pain of that life. But every time I decided to rescind the offer, I watched you in my mind’s eye free the girls, escape the boat, only to hear the muffled scream behind you, then without hesitation run back. Back to fight a man you knew you couldn’t best. To a fight you knew you’d lose.” A single shake of his head. “I can’t train that.” He poked me in the chest. “Either that’s in there or it’s not.” He shook his head again, then waved his hand as if gesturing to the whole world. “They’ll never know what you know. The inexplicable joy of walking into the slave market, thumbing your nose at a master with no mercy, then ripping a door off its hinges and carrying a slave to freedom. And no one, not one single person either at Freetown or inked across your back, would fault you if you wanted to step back. Take a break. You’ve earned it. You need to hear that. It’s okay to walk away. You’ve done more than most will in a hundred lifetimes.”
I shook my head. “Bones, I don’t want to walk away. My love has not grown cold. I just don’t want to do this without you.”
A nod. “I know. Me too. But that, too, is the risk we take. We risk hurt. Pain. Not coming home. We risk everything. Every time. This is what we do. ‘The needs of the one...’ isn’t some pithy catchphrase I placed on a coin because I found it written in a book. I wrote it down and kept it close because it’s true. Because when everything goes wrong, when my plans fail, when darkness is all I see, there is a truth that is more true than my circumstances. Very few people will leave the safety and security and comfort of the flock, of their family, of those they love, to walk across a battlefield to find the one sheep who’s lost and then carry ’em home. Return them to the arms of those they love and who love them. This thing we do is a selfless act. The most selfless. And there’s no one I’d rather do it with, but—and this is important, so listen up—we risk each other. Every time we walk out that door, we risk one of us not coming back. It’s the hard truth. Evil doesn’t care. In fact, it would like to use our love against us.”
He stared out across the water. Toward the island where he was held in the dungeon as a boy. “Right now, somewhere on this planet, some evil nobody has kidnapped an innocent somebody and they’re selling them to anybody with enough coin. Usually a wealthy, perverted miscreant who thinks they’re entitled to do what they want, when they want, with whomever they want, and they ask no one’s permission. What is lost in the transaction is that innocent somebody is raped for profit forty times in a week. Every hour on the hour. Some every thirty minutes. This is the evil of our age. Possibly the worst evil one human can commit upon another. We’re not going to stop it, but we can make a dent. We can walk down in the basement and shine a light.
“Right this second, those innocent, tormented somebodies, those magnificent children of God, are lying on their backs praying that God would just kill them. End it right here and now. Why go on? Why live? What’s the use? When He doesn’t answer that prayer, they pray for someone to kick down the door. To lift them out of that hell. To make the bad man stop.” He poked me in the chest again. “You are that answer.” He looked at Camp. “Him too.” He turned back to me. “In all the rescues, all the names inked across your back, name one who wasn’t worth your life or mine. Just one.”
I shook my head. “Can’t.”
“Correct.”
I waved my hand across the same world before us. “So what do we do with the bad guys?”
The question surprised him. “What do you mean, ‘What do we do with the bad guys?’”
I hesitated. “Frank got a pass from you. Why?”
He nodded in admission. Then he saw the bigger picture. How the experience with Frank had confused my conception of justice exacted. “Frank was the exception. My brother. I saw what he’d endured. I knew who he was before he became the Frank you knew. He also had information we needed, and I was never going to get it from him if I met power with power.”
“Information? What are you talking about?”
“Later. The point is, there was only one Frank.”
“But what about—”
He cut me off. “All the other Franks?”
I nodded. “Yes. What do we do with them?”
“Make the bad man stop. They don’t go home. Don’t pass Go. Don’t collect two hundred dollars. Never rape again. Every last one. Send them to God. He can sort them out.”
“Does this mean you’re getting back in?”
He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Back in?” He chuckled. “I never got out.”
I pointed over my shoulder at the island barely visible in the distance. “So Majorca changes nothing?”
“Not one thing.” He held up a finger. “But only if I get to do it with you.” He cracked half a smile and shot a glance at Camp. “I’m too old to start training somebody new. It was hard enough the first time.”
The room had grown pin-drop quiet, and we had everybody’s attention. The girls had quit giggling and Gunner’s tail had quit wagging. Bones studied all the eyes staring at him. Then he spoke to all of us. “We are in the hope business. That is what we do.”
I felt a presence behind me. Sister Catalonia. She’d been listening at the door. She put a hand on Bones’s arm. “Time for meds.”
Bones took the paper cup, obediently swallowed, and then let her check his vitals. When finished, she gave him an injection of something, then stood to leave. In an uncharacteristic move where he pressed into her personal space, he reached for her hand. Which she allowed him to take. It was an invitation not to leave. His voice was calm. “When you save someone’s life, you become family. Our conversations are your conversations.”