Jeremy Robinson - Island 731

As he rounded the corner with six minutes remaining, the time felt like an eternity. He made no effort to mask his approach. In fact, he did the opposite, feigning a leg injury and scraping his feet through the rough stone. When he emerged from the jungle and faced the gallery, Bennett stood waiting for him with a smile on his face.

Joliet knelt at his feet.

The shot would have been so easy , Hawkins thought, looking at Bennett’s exposed torso and head.

Hawkins did his best to look surprised. “Joliet!” He hobbled forward, moving with a purpose.

“Mark!” Joliet said, sounding both relieved and concerned.

Bennett gripped her hair and pressed the gun against her skull. “Quiet.”

Hawkins’s suspicions were confirmed. There was a trap, and Joliet knew what it was, but if she spoke, he’d kill her and the trap would be sprung anyway. “Let her go.”

“Pfft!” Bennett laughed. “Where would she go?”

Hawkins knew it was a silly request. Bennett wouldn’t let her go, and if he did, she’d be in no less danger. But Hawkins wasn’t looking for a fight, either. He just needed to kill five more minutes.

“That’s close enough,” Bennett said when Hawkins got within twenty feet.

Hawkins shuffled to a stop, looking exhausted and beaten, which wasn’t really a stretch. He considering going for his knife and whipping it at Bennett. With the handle broken off, just about any part of the blade would do the trick. But getting the handleless blade out of the sheath and throwing it before Bennett pulled the trigger wouldn’t be possible. So he just stood and waited, letting the seconds pass by.

Bennett’s smile faded. He apparently expected a little more banter from Hawkins. “The others are dead?” he finally asked.

Hawkins grimaced.

“Blok stayed in his cell.”

“Of course,” Bennett said. “He would, wouldn’t he? I never liked the man. Spent more time in the fantasy worlds conjured by other people’s minds.”

“You should try it,” Hawkins said. “Might not be such an asshole.”

Bennett grinned. “Jones no doubt died with his daughter.”

Hawkins’s earnest scowl confirmed it.

“And Bray? I’m surprised you left him on his own. Did he become an incubator, too?”

“It was Jim,” Hawkins said.

“How is the last surviving Tweedle?” Bennett asked, growing more excited with every revelation.

“Out of his misery,” Hawkins said.

Bennett’s mouth opened to form an amused O shape. “You didn’t!”

Hawkins held up the bolt stunner, revealing the blood splashed on its tip. He loathed the idea of entertaining Bennett with such details, but the man was engaged. He’d even let go of Joliet’s hair, which was good because when the shit hit the fan, she would need to run like hell. He just wished he could warn her about it.

“Why are you doing this, Bennett?” Hawkins asked. Kam had told him a lot, but he couldn’t reveal what he’d already learned. Bennett would know he’d seen the security feeds and that he had come out here to face him on purpose.

With a casual shrug, Bennett said, “It’s fun.”

Hawkins heard a hint of pain in his voice.

“Bullshit,” Hawkins said.

Bennett’s smile faded. “You disagree?”

Hawkins didn’t need to answer. The fire burning in his eyes was answer enough.

Joliet, on the other hand, couldn’t not reply. “Murdering and mutilating people is fun ? You’re a sick fu—”

“Joliet,” Hawkins chided. He wanted to engage Bennett, not antagonize him.

Bennett glared at the back of Joliet’s head for a moment, then looked back at Hawkins. “It’s not all about the killing, you know.”

“Then what’s with the cameras around the island? I’ve seen them everywhere.”

“You have good eyes,” Bennett said.

Hawkins worried he’d said too much, but some of the cameras weren’t hidden very well. “Once I saw the camera mounted on top of the old lab, I knew what to look for.”

“Ahh, yes,” Bennett said. “Didn’t hide those very well, did I?”

“If you’re watching, how is this island any different than an ancient Roman coliseum?”

“Because I’m not watching for entertainment,” Bennett said. “Well, fine, maybe sometimes. But when physiology and biology began to bore me, I took an interest in sociology. At first I just watched people, observing the subtle nuances of body language and tone of voice. It’s how I know you lied about Bray. He’s not dead.”

Hawkins tried not to react. He’d guessed right about Bray, but didn’t mention Blok.

“You can try to hide what you’re thinking, but it’s nearly impossible.” Bennett looked Hawkins over. “For example. Your limp is fake. Which means you knew I was here. And here’s where it gets fun. You could have made a run for it. Maybe get back to the Magellan and escape. It’s what most people would do. But you came here”—he tapped the gun against Joliet’s head—“for her. Since arriving, you’ve looked at her more than me, despite me having a gun. You came knowing I was waiting for you. And prepared for you. Which means, and correct me if I’m wrong, that you’re in love with Joliet.”

Hawkins said nothing. Apparently, he didn’t need to.

“And given Joliet’s lack of surprise, not to mention how she wept earlier when I told her you were dead—that was a lie, by the way—I’d say the feeling was mutual. Of course, you both already knew that. But you’re both cowards, which is also interesting because when it comes to physical danger, you’re both somewhat reckless. And that brings us back to the here and now, with Hawkins risking not just his life, but also Bray’s in an attempt to save the damsel in distress. Where is Bray? Hiding in the bushes? Circling around the gallery for an ambush?”

Hawkins noted Bennett’s total lack of concern regarding both scenarios.

“How’d I do?” Bennett asked. “Pretty accurate, right?”

Hawkins quickly scanned the area, looking for Bennett’s trap. He saw nothing but the dull, gray concrete of the gallery wall, its soot-rimmed entryway, and jungle all around. Nothing. But his sensitive ears picked up the distant staccato chop of approaching helicopters. He spoke loudly, hoping to drown out the sound until it was too late. “So you’re conducting social experiments, too, watching the reactions people have to your creations? I can actually understand how someone like you would need that kind of stimulation.”

“Someone like me?”

Hawkins didn’t know a lot about psychology, but understood human nature and could bullshit with the best of them. He needed to keep Bennett distracted so he used the information Kam had revealed about Bennett’s upbringing and launched into his prognosis of the man, doing his best to make it sound convincing. “You were born here. Raised by scientists, who, let’s admit, are generally obsessed with their work and don’t make for very loving parents. You were smart. Uncommonly smart. But you were still a child, and children need the love of their parents in order to thrive. Desperate for affection, you feigned an interest in your parents’ work. It sickened you. How could it not? You were a kid. But your parents were finally paying attention to you. Maybe celebrating your early accomplishments. Their recognition made you feel loved, probably for the first time in your screwed-up life, so you tried harder. Pushed further. And with each success, you felt an outpouring of affection. Each successful experiment was followed by a rush of dopamine. After a few years, the experiments alone provided an intense feeling of love. No need for praise from Mommy and Daddy.

“When you hit puberty, your mind began to release gobs of hormones and chemicals and you actually started to get off from your experiments. The more horrific, the bigger the thrill. Eventually, your addiction began to make the other scientists, including your parents, afraid. So you pulled away. You didn’t need them anymore. You could get your rocks off all by yourself. But then something happened. Maybe they confronted you. Maybe you overheard a conversation.”