Fathers and Sons
Who: NPCs Rob Corrigan and Henry Boone Where: Searchlight What: Discussion of Sean and other things Rating: Mild
“This is it?”
“That’s what I said too. Thanks for comin’, Henry.”
Rob watched the other hunter look from right to left in the parking lot of Terrible’s, the dubious expression on his face a mirror of the one he’d had at first seeing Searchlight in person. He could feel the Otherness in the air, like a hum so soft he could barely hear it, but the town itself looked sleepier than something out of a fifties TV show. It was four in the afternoon, and the people he’d brought from Boulder were in the general store picking over the camping supplies.
Henry Boone was fifty-three. He was either from Arkansas or Missouri, depending on which story he was telling and how much he’d had to drink, and he’d known Sean Corrigan off and on for more years than he cared to talk about. A solid core of muscle was buried under a layer of deceptive flab, because he dearly loved to eat, and the scar on the side of his head added to the look of a boxer gone to seed. A slow-walking, slow-talking powerhouse who could still put his fist into a vampire’s face and break teeth.
Rob had stopped trying to get Sean on the phone. His father was either ignoring him or was actually beyond reason right now, and it was wasted effort attempting to reach him. Judging by the silence from Rhiannon, there had been no more random attacks. He’d slept poorly the night before, had poked at his breakfast instead of actually eating it. Henry’s arrival was the one thing that almost made him feel better.
“So are we gonna parlay or just, y’know, take it to ‘em?”
“Parlay first,” the younger man said, emphasizing the first word. “I want to stop this, not make it worse. There’s already been bloodshed, people hurt. I want less of that, not more.”
“People?”
Henry gave him a look that was somewhere between narrow and amused, rubbing a hand over his newly-razored hair. He’d had a ponytail that reached the center of his back before leaving Flagstaff, had shaved it all off to start over with a military style haircut. The thin winter sun was bright, and he turned to get it out of his eyes. “Ain’t what you said on the phone.”
“You know what I mean.”
The reply was an almost sullen mutter, and Rob scuffed the heel of his boot against some loose gravel. He knew the other man didn’t quite hold the same lines he did, didn’t think that ‘kill them all and let God sort it out’ was the only plan, though he did sometimes take trophies.But he didn’t feel like being picked at over a verbal gaffe.
“Uh huh.”
They looked at each other in the early evening sunshine, and something like amusement touched Rob’s expression. Henry had four sons and two daughters, none of whom had made the trip with him, so he knew the pull of family and blood, and if he also didn’t demand total loyalty and obedience from his kids, he’d asked him to cross the state line for a reason.
“Fuck you, Henry.”
They exchanged the one-arm hug of men who fought for good reason, and a big hand smacked Rob on the back almost too hard. “Gonna be okay, huh? Not so much has happened that it can’t be walked back.”
“I’m...I’m not sure about that.”
Because it had chewed at him, that Sean had never gone behind his back before. Even if his father had seldom asked for his advice on anything, he’d never been this blatant with it. It was the disrespect that had such sharp teeth, the idea that maybe Sean had never seen him as even remotely equal. If in some secret corner of his heart he had thought that he could win his dad’s respect if he worked hard enough, that he could eventually replace what their group had lost when Rhiannon left, it just stung more to know that maybe his father had always seen him as lesser.
“I’ve done everything he’s ever asked me,” he said in a low voice, and he was looking at his hands again. The way he’d studied them when he’d last spoken to his cousin, who he suspected was gloating just the tiniest bit. She’d always wanted to be proven ‘right’ about Sean, and perhaps now she had been. “Or tried to. I’ve always tried to be just like him. A good leader, somebody to look up to. We’ve chosen this, or most of us have, but it’s a hard life. All I ever wanted was for him to be proud of me, to say, ‘you did good, son’.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Henry had dug a cigar and a lighter out of his jacket pocket while Rob talked. Silent and patient, like a mountain. “I’ve known your pa for a long time, and honestly? He was a dick back then too. I respect him because he’s really damn good at what he does, but he’s not a nice guy and never has been. It’s hard for nice guys to be good at what we do, I guess. The best we can do is be less dickish to them we call our own.”
There was a pause filled with fragrant smoke and the smell of burning tobacco, and Rob reluctantly pulled his cigarettes out of his back pocket. He was trying to cut back, but this was clearly the wrong time to make the attempt. If he bristled at Henry’s assertion that his father was a dick, it was so muted as to be unnoticeable. Maybe later he would take exception, but not right that second. He was just too tired right now to stick up for his dad in his absence.
“So what does he want around here? This ain’t much to look at, so is it just the hunt?”
“I don’t know. There’s something different here, like magic but not quite. I don’t know if that’s it, or what he thinks he’ll do with it, but it’s something.”
The other man grunted quietly in response, the lit cigar between his teeth. “So. When do we do it?”
“Rhiannon said I should call her when we’re ready to move. Won’t be long.”
“Chin up, man. It really is gonna be okay.”
Henry ambled off in the direction of Terrible’s, because he wanted to check out what the menu had to offer. Rob watched his broad back as he entered the diner, a bemused expression on his face, then turned towards the general store. He should round up his people, give them as much of an update as he could. And it was not going to be okay. Different, yes. Okay? Probably not so much.</cut>