The Seal's Return

“I don’t have any parents,” Gordon said defiantly.

“You just dropped from above?” Jubal asked.

“They died.”

“Then who looks after you? Or who is supposed to?”

“I’m seventeen. I don’t need anyone to look after me.”

“After seeing you tonight, I’d disagree,” Jubal said calmly. “Where do you live?”

“Where do you think?”

“I’m not fencing with you.” Jubal’s voice hardened. “It’s three in the morning, and you’ve disrupted my peace and tranquility. I didn’t plan on confronting a juvenile punk and taking another swim.”

“I was doing okay. You didn’t have to come in the water.”

“That so?” Jubal said with a raised eyebrow. “In any event, you think I was just going to let you stroll away?”

“Why not? It was just a small fire. No harm done.”

“Only because you obviously don’t know how to build one. I take it you’re not a Boy Scout?”

“That’s for losers.”

“Losers who clearly have more sense in one finger than you have in your entire body.”

Gordon stared at him. Jubal noticed the boy’s gaze seemed more careful now, hesitating when he saw the tattoo on his arm. “What’s that?”

“I thought you were smarter than anyone else,” he said. “You tell me.”

“Military?”

“Yeah.”

“My sister thinks they’re all fascists.”

“So your sister is the source of all your information? You live with her, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me where you live, or I’ll call the police. Maybe those fascists can straighten you out.”

The boy’s face paled. “We just wanted to see if it would burn,” he said. “He said no one lived here.”

Jubal raised an eyebrow. “Who told you that? Your chickenshit buddy who ran out on you? I saw him run.”

Gordon didn’t say anything.

“Okay, have it your way.” Jubal took his cell out of his pocket. “The police chief is a friend of mine and I have his number. I didn’t know I’d need it so soon.”

“Don’t!” Gordon said, adding a belated, “Please.”

“You don’t want him to know a juvenile pyromaniac is running around the community?”

“I’m not... I mean, you can’t call the police.”

“Why not?”

“I’m...” Gordon’s voice trailed off.

“Yes?” Jubal said, and raised his eyebrow.

“I’m...on probation,” Gordon admitted with obvious reluctance.

“Burn someone else’s house down?”

“No!”

“Anyone missing you right now?”

“No.”

“Why don’t I believe that?” Jubal said.

“My sister doesn’t give a shit what I do. She’s too busy...”

“Too busy doing what?”

The boy’s lips closed.

“You’re not getting out of here until you tell me where you live.”

The defiance in Gordon’s eyes faded away. “She’s the new doctor.”

Jubal studied him for a moment. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

“What?” Gordon said cautiously.

“Give me her address. I’ll drive you there, watch you go inside whichever way you got out. In return, you’ll give me ten hours of work. Productive work, and I decide what counts as productive.”

The kid looked disbelieving. “Ten hours?”

“You think it should be longer? Maybe you’re right.”

The kid looked trapped.

“You have a choice,” Jubal said. “I can call the police chief. I imagine you’ll be charged with arson. That won’t be the least of your problems if, as you say, you’re on probation.”