Nathan finally realized what Damon was upset about. The video. He had hoped the timing would be right, so Blackwell couldn’t run interference and curtail it before everyone in the world found out about their little mission. Network security had been fortunately lax once Nathan’s partnership status was confirmed. Apparently Chimera thought he would fall in line once he was allowed into their inner circle.
They underestimated him.
“I did what I thought was right, Damon. Is there a reason why you’re here?”
“I need you topside. Let’s go.”
Nathan frowned at the rag in his hand. “Give me a minute.”
“What was that?”
Damon pounced. It was so sudden, so fierce and unexpected that Nathan could only stand there, stunned. His feet dangled above the floor when Damon seized him by the collar and hoisted. There was a single moment of frantic weightlessness before his back slammed against the wall and Damon thrust his snarling face inches away from Nathan’s own.
“You think you’re someone special? That you’re giving orders around here? Think you can leak information on a classified mission and put everyone at risk?” Damon’s forearm rammed under Nathan’s chin, mashing against his throat. He gurgled when Damon pushed harder, exerting his weight. It felt as if Damon’s entire body was made of stone.
“You’re nothing, Nathan. Nothing but a scared little boy trying to be a man. I can squash you like a bug and no one would miss you. Crush your larynx and drown you in your own blood.” He arm pressed even harder, cutting off Nathan’s air supply. “You really kill your old man, Nate? Hard to believe. But you think you can put your dirty deeds behind you. Walk around with another man’s face, pretending to be enlightened. But we both know you can’t go back. You can’t pretend. It’s always there, waiting for you in the dark.”
The pressure against Nathan’s throat increased. Damon’s pupils quivered as a slow grin spread across his cheeks. “Come on, Nate. I know you have it in you. Show me the animal. Show me what you’re made of.”
Nathan felt a moment of intense panic as his efforts to free himself became increasingly futile. Blood pounded against his temples as if his head was a pimple about to explode in a shower of pus and blood. He grimaced, then warbled something inarticulate.
Damon frowned. “What?” He eased off just slightly. “What did you say?”
“You mean…” Nathan coughed. “You mean… like… you?”
Damon sneered and stepped back. Nathan wheezed and massaged his throat, hoping it wasn’t too badly bruised. It was hard to act nonchalant when he had been entirely helpless in Damon’s vise-like grip. He was even stronger than Nathan had figured. Crazy people usually were.
Damon folded his arms. “You can’t even dream of being like me, boy.”
“You’re right. I can’t. I can’t dream of killing seventeen unarmed prisoners in cold blood. I read your file. You’re a lunatic.”
“Bullshit. My file is sealed.”
“Nothing is sealed anymore. There’s more coding and firewalls blocking sensitive information, sure. But in the end it’s all just programming.”
“And you’re the genius, right? So what if you’ve seen my file? I know you don’t have the guts to make it public. Not when you know I’d do you even worse than any of those insurgents. You want to sympathize with terrorists, go ahead. Lecture me about the Geneva Convention and interrogation protocol. Just don’t expect me to give a damn about animals that strap explosives to themselves for the sole purpose of killing and maiming Americans.”
“You don’t care about Americans, Damon. You don’t care about soldiers. You fit a particular type that the military employs. Those rare, pure psychopaths who enlist for the opportunity to legally kill other people. You didn’t torture and murder those insurgents for your country. You didn’t do it for duty or honor. You did because you enjoyed it. Because there’s no other civilized way to kill people and still be considered sane.”
Damon didn’t bat an eye. “We’re leaving civilization behind. Get that through your head. Civilized people won’t make it where we’re going. There won’t be any rules of accord, no niceties to observe. Only those who live, and those who don’t. I don’t have to guess which one you’ll be.”
He turned toward the door. “And get your diagnosis right. The shrinks say I’m a sociopath, not a psychopath.”
“I stand corrected.”
“You’ve already met the psychopath. Your old pal Blackwell. Now If you’re done doing bitch work, haul ass topside. Something’s wrong with Michael.”
“Michael?”
Nathan walked toward the bow of the ship where Michael stood, perfectly balanced on the slim rail guard as if it were flat ground. A small crowd had gathered further back. Damon leaned against the superstructure with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. Some of the soldiers grouped together nearby, laughing and shouting encouragement.
“Go on, do it!”
“It’s a great day for a suicide!”
Michael didn’t appear to care. The earlier rain had dissipated, leaving the deck to steam in the subsequent humidity. Michael had his hands clasped behind his back, surveying the horizon on the starboard side, where the sea glinted in mystery ripples of the darkest blue. His head turned slightly.
“You ever think about the end, Nate?”
“The end? Of what?”
“Of everything.”
“What do you mean? Like Armageddon? Some Biblical reckoning between good and evil?”
“Not like that.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know.” Michael stared with vacant eyes. “We’re screwed up. Maybe good is just a label we stamp on the lines we think we shouldn’t cross. Maybe we’re all just on the edge of losing it.”
“Come on. We all have a moral compass. Yeah, some people are wired wrong. But most people want to do the right thing. You know that.”
“I know this — we’re all one bad day away from falling over the edge. One lust away from rape, one rage away from murder, one hate away from genocide. We don’t believe in heaven, Nate. Not really. And we damn sure don’t believe in hell. We live like we’re gods, like we control our own destiny. But we’re not. We’re just cattle. Slabs of walking beef waiting for the butcher to call our number.”
Nathan sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t think this is the place for that kind of conversation. Why don’t you come down from there and we’ll talk it over inside?”
“The deck is pretty crowded right now. Didn’t want to disturb them.”
“Who, the soldiers? Screw them, Michael.”
“No, not them. The ravens, Nate. The ravens.”
Nathan felt the hairs on his scalp prickle. “Ravens.”
Michael gestured offhandedly. “Look at them — they’re all over the place. I’m surprised you made it all the way over here without them raising a fuss.”
Nathan gazed at the spacious, empty deck. “Yeah, I see.”
“I felt them. That’s the real reason I came topside. They were calling me. We’re getting closer to the nexus. To the point of no return.”
“Ok, Michael. You should come down, though. No need to die before we get there.”
Michael glanced down as if just realizing where he was. His eyes widened. “Whoa. You’re probably right.”
He took great care in clambering down to the deck before he shakily placed his hands on his knees, much to the delight of the gathered soldiers. Nathan ignored their hoots and laughter as he placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder.
“You all right?”
Michael lifted his head with a quivery smile. “Things got a little hazy, is all.” He gave a start and stood, craning his head as though tracking something. “They’re leaving. All of them. You see?”