Randy White - Ten thousand isles

They jumped a little; ripped the nets off and tossed them on the ground as if they were throwing down weapons.

Derrick's hair was longish, dyed an iridescent maroon. Tony had the spiked purple hair; the kid Tomlinson had said would chew through a man's chest to get to his heart. Both of them had lots and lots of body piercings, ears, eyebrows, lips. Tony had a nose ring, too, brass with a turquoise setting.

Had he been wearing the nose ring at the funeral? No. It was the sort of thing impossible not to notice. Maybe he removed it for formal occasions. Such a thoughtful kid.

"Girls, too. Lose the head net, sweetie. We want a good look at your face before we start asking questions, then haul your butts into jail. Grave robbing. A charge like that, you're gonna spend a year or so behind bars-unless you cooperate."

"Grave robbing?" The girl pulled the net off, showing her flushed cheeks, eyebrows and ears slotted with rings, already sobbing. Her voice had the same irritating whine that it had when she was angry. "I didn't rob no graves, mister, I don't got nothin' to do with what these guys did. I haven't done nothin' wrong, I swear to Jesus, honest. They're like, 'Hey, Tisha, let's go for a boat ride. We'll show you this cool island.' And I'm like, 'Why not, I got nothin' better to do.' So, yeah, I go with them on the boat, but I don't got a damn thing to do with diggin' shit up. That's all their idea."

I'm like, they're like-Tomlinson says the uneducated must now speak in the third-person present tense because their only reality is a television screen or a computer screen. Their brains can convert images but not ideas.

I said, "Really, Tisha? You're just an innocent bystander."

"Yeah, really. You got to believe me. But already, you're like, hey, I'm guilty just being here, but I'm not, so please don't put me in jail, mister. I'm not even eighteen yet; I still got to finish high school, so please don't take me in."

I've known worthless teenagers who grew to be first-rate adults. As of now, though, this was a sad and unattractive little girl who was on the fast track to an empty future.

Time once again for my bemused smile. "You weren't helping them dig? Then how'd you know they were looking for something?"

"Shut your fucking mouth, Tisha! Both of you, shut up, don't say another word!" Tony was losing it: knees wagging as if he needed to urinate; fingers snapping; tongue moving, wetting his lower lip as if to cover the lip ring while showing the silver stud in his tongue. He seemed to be on sensory overload, and probably for good reason. Daddy's equipment had been ruined and, very soon, he'd have to ask Daddy to bail him out of jail. Or so he thought.

Push any living thing into a corner, get too close, and sooner or later it will fight.

It was time for me to back off just a tad, return them to their comfort zone.

Unfortunately, I didn't get the chance.

Tony was still talking. "What's your point, mister? You wanna arrest us, arrest us. But I'm tellin' ya right now, lotta important people know my dad and he's gonna go fucking ape shit when he finds out what you did to his equipment. So you're in trouble, too, dude. I don't care if you're a cop or not; you had no right to ruin all that expensive shit."

Nora had remained an effective background prop, stern and official-looking in her military BDUs. Arms folded, staring at them through blue mirrored sunglasses, she did a good job of playing my loyal backup. But then Tony looked at her and said, "Hey, if you two are cops, where's your guns? And how 'bout you show us some identification."

Nora said, "We've got guns, dumbass. Don't you worry about that."

"Yeah? Where?"

"We keep them locked on the patrol boat."

I watched the expression in Tony's face change very, very slowly. Cartoons use a lightbulb to illustrate sudden understanding. I saw a light appear in Tony's eyes. He was a big lanky guy with ropy muscles, not used to being bullied. "Really? Cops who leave their guns behind. Know what, lady? I think you're full of shit."

Now he was considering me, considering the odds; gauging what his best move would be. The women canceled each other. But there were two of him and only one of me. It put a thin smile on his face. He actually seemed to swell up as he stood a little straighten Then he made direct, glaring eye contact and I listened to him say, "Then fuck you, dude. Some asshole with glasses and GI Jane. You two wrecked my dad's gear. Then you stand there like hot shits, giving us orders?" He gave a little chuckle of relief. "Some people, they are like so fucking stupid. Seriously. Couple of hicks, I think that's what we got here."

Now he was moving slowly to my right. He glanced over his shoulder at Derrick, communicating something.

Derrick seemed to understand instinctively and began to move slowly to our left.

Like elements of submissive behavior, aggressive behavior is just as telling. This slow dividing of pack members and changing of angles was typical. They were moving into attack formation.

I took a step back, shielding Nora. I said to her softly, "From now on, just follow my lead."

She still didn't get it. "What's that supposed to mean? These people have no right to accuse us. After what they've done?"

Tony had one of the shovels in his hands now, looking at it, testing the heft of it.

I said to her, "You watch too many movies."

The best approach in any conflict is find a way to win without fighting. I tried. I offered Tony and his little friends logical, conciliatory options, even implying we'd pay for the damage, Nora and me backing away a little bit at a time, until he said, "Fuck you, four-eyes. Mister big shot back at the chick's grave. So look at you now, big shot. Begging."

When he mentioned "grave," something happened.

It was the word, or maybe his flippant tone, I'm not sure which, but hearing it changed something in me. It brought the pale image of a sleeping girl into my mind once more. That powerful image was accompanied by a low-pitched roaring in my ears. The sound is not unknown to me. It was an occasional visitor from a dark, dark room.

I said softly to Tony, very softly, feeling the words of a stranger flow out with my breath: "Begging? I'm begging?"

"Yeah, dude. You can't hear yourself? Then you must be deaf, man."

I have my own rule when it comes to dealing with more than one attacker, and it has nothing to do with deception. The rule is simple: do your damnedest to eliminate the weakest attackers first.

Do it quickly, brutally, and you will not have to deal with that attacker ever again. It allows you to give full attention to the man who can do you the most harm.

I watched Tony lift the shovel in both hands and rest it on his shoulder as he walked slowly toward us. He had a nasty little smile on his face; he looked like some freaky laborer on his way to work.

By moving in opposite directions, they'd reached an angle of separation where I had to face Tony or I had to face Derrick. I knew that the man at my back would be the first to charge, so I faced Tony. He was still coming toward us, but now I was paying less attention to what I saw than what I heard.

Derrick, a big, doughy man, was behind me. I listened to his careful steps. He'd gotten into some of that black muck. I could hear it sucking at his boots.

Good, he'd be a little less agile. He didn't look particularly agile to begin with. Probably in his early twenties, but lots of baby fat.

"What's the matter there, dude? Don't want to beg no more? Big ol' nerd like you, you ought to be on your knees right now."

I gave Tony a very different kind of smile. "It's those pretty earrings of yours. I don't know whether to beg or flirt."

I half expected Tony to come lunging, but he wasn't taking any chances. Momentarily, his eyes bulged. Nothing more. He was probably waiting for the same thing I was anticipating-Derrick to make his move.