“Martin!” Darla exclaimed, stepping into the room from behind Henry. “You’re out and about and surfing the web. Good for you.”
“Good morning, Darla,” Martin said as he hung Kelvin Rice’s block back on its hook.
“That Kelvin’s page?” Henry asked.
“It is,” Martin said.
“Beautiful,” Darla said. “Exactly what we came for.”
Henry hurried around the strings, his rifle dangerously close to getting snagged. Darla put a hand out to Felix and helped him to his feet.
“I cannot let any joker in off the street. Passwords are a requirement,” Felix told her.
“This is important, Fee,” Darla crooned. “Gotta understand that.”
“It’s always important with you, Darla,” Felix moaned.
“I’m an important girl,” Darla chirped.
“And, Henry,” Felix went on, “I’ve told you time and again, no guns in the Internet.”
“No guns in the Internet,” Henry mimicked in a high-pitched voice. He stepped past Martin and pulled Kelvin Rice’s block off its hook.
“We’ll need to get into Kelvin’s personal page,” Darla said. “With Martin showing up outta nowhere, we gotta see if this is another thing he kept to himself.”
“No can doozy,” Felix said. “Need a password and authentication in the form of a signed note. You know this.”
“He’s gone, and he isn’t coming back,” Darla said. “Besides, he gave up his rights to privacy when he lied to us.”
“Yeah! And like you’re not peekin’ inside all the personal pages when you’re here all alone.” Henry snorted. “Puhlease.”
“It’s called a code of ethics,” Felix said. “Something I work hard to maintain.”
No one had been watching Martin this whole time, but Martin had been watching Henry’s rifle. Its muzzle was nearly brushing against Martin’s cheek as it angled from Henry’s back. Martin knew what was happening here. He had read about this type of situation. A gun was in the room. Before they left the room, that gun was going to be fired. It was inevitable. He surely didn’t want anyone to be hurt. With the exception of Henry, whom he was beginning to wonder about, they seemed like reasonable people. So he did what he thought was the best thing to do.
Martin punched Henry in the face.
Henry wobbled, stunned into submission. Martin grabbed for the rifle. When he yanked it away, it sent Henry spinning and the block of wood sailing across the room.
Felix and Darla watched, speechless, as Henry fell into a web of strings and Martin pointed the gun to the ceiling and fired off five rounds.
Blam, blam, blam, blam, blam, click …
The rifle was empty. Holes the diameter of Martin’s fingers decorated the ceiling, and debris flurried down. As the echoes from the gunshots faded away, Martin sighed in relief. Of course, no one could hear the sigh over Henry’s screams.
“Don’t kill me! Please don’t kill me!” The pits of Henry’s elbows shielded his eyes, and his stubby hands covered his ears.
“It’s okay,” Martin said calmly. “I was making sure we were all safe.”
Felix stared at him. His right eye held the stare for a moment, then seemed to lose its nerve, turning away. His left eye, however, stayed fixed in place.
“We do not hit!” Darla stepped forward and yelled. “We. Do. Not. Hit! And we do not shoot! We do not. Shoot. Guns. Near people! What kind of place do you think this is?”
“I—”
“What were you thinking?” Darla said.
“I—He had a gun. I wanted to make sure nobody was shot,” Martin said.
“Turkeys,” Darla barked. “Deer. Rabbits. He uses it to shoot animals. I was going to cook you dinner tonight, Martin.”
“Oh,” Martin said. “I guess I misunderstood.”
“Friggin’ right you did,” Henry grumbled as he pulled himself up and quickly ran his sleeve across his cheek.
“Sorry,” Martin whispered as he handed the rifle back to Henry.
Darla tilted her head and pursed her lips. Then she flicked her fingers out like she was displaying claws, held them there for a moment, and slowly lowered them to her sides. “We will accept your apology,” she said through her teeth, “because I honestly think that island folk such as yourself probably have different rules. But here, in civilization, we act civilized.”
“I understand,” Martin said softly.
“Goody,” Darla said, then rescued the block from the floor and flipped it over to reveal the small door and keyhole on the back. She gave Felix a playful but insistent push on the shoulder, knocking him back to attention. “Gonna need that key, lazy eye,” she said. “High time we get inside Kelvin’s mind.”
Felix closed his eyes and nodded. He was not going to fight this fight. He reached into his headband. From inside he pulled a tiny key with a series of intricate teeth. He handed it to Darla.
“Thank you very much, sir,” she said. “The honorable choice.”
Bracing herself with her free hand, she carefully got down on the floor and sat cross-legged with the block in her lap. She wielded the key. The slip, the turn, the click, the creak of the door hinges came next. Then she reached inside.
She held a small green marble up in the air for all to see.
“That’s it?” Henry asked.
“That is indeed it,” Darla said with a crooked smile.
“Don’t let Lane have it,” Henry sniped. “She’ll send it rollin’ in one of her whirligigs.”
“Lane does not worry me,” Darla said, sliding the marble into the front pocket of her jeans.
“Who’s Lane?” Martin asked.
“Pudgy girl,” Darla said. “No consequence.”
“Is that really necessary?” Felix said.
“What?” Darla giggled. “Lane’s zaftig. That’s a thing for some people, apparently. And I’m being truthful. I think Martin is the type of guy who appreciates the truth.”
“I am,” Martin said.
“See?” Darla closed and locked the little door, stood up, and handed the block and key back to Felix.
“What are you going to do with it?” Felix asked.
“I’m not sure,” Darla said with a shrug. “But it’s gotta be important if Kelvin was hiding it, right?”
“People hide plenty of things for plenty of reasons that I don’t understand,” Felix said.
“And you’re so good at helping them, aren’t you?” Darla teased, thumbing Felix on the cheek.
“We all do what we do,” Felix said plainly.
“Ah!” Darla remarked. “Speaking of which, let’s get Henry some bullets and Martin some solar panels. We’ll be eating rabbit and watching DVDs before the night is out!”
She threw her arm around Martin and pulled him in close. Then she grabbed Henry by the collar of his T-shirt. Reluctantly, he sidled over to her, and she threw her other arm around him.
Squeezed tightly against her, Martin could feel the curves of Darla’s body. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Yet pressing into his thigh was the marble in her pocket. Its round, hard coldness had penetrated her jeans and Martin’s pant leg.