Firebomb (The Jewel Project #2)

07.1|| Childhood Friends

They had barely managed to move a few feet from the entrance when the hut exploded. A rush of heat crashed into Sam, sending him tumbling towards the river. He dug his nails and toes into the dust and managed to stop himself on the bank of the river, his feet an inch from the water.

The other man, rolled right into the raging waters, but dug his fingers into the bank and managed to pull himself out. Sam scrambled to his feet, to,o and took a few steps back, just in case he'd actually rescued one of Snitch Gravel's men.

He didn't seem like it, not with that wide goofy grin on his face. He was as tall as Sam, with messy strawberry-blond hair and blue-grey eyes. His clothes were dirty and disheveled, but what made Sam doubt he was employed by Snitch Gravel was how young he looked. Maybe in his late twenties.

"That was close," the stranger said, making Sam jump.

"What was in there?" Sam asked, though he actually wanted to know who the man was.

"Some surveillance equipment and, obviously, some dynamite," the man answered in a carefree voice that suggested they hadn't both been about to have their limbs blown apart. "I was trying to destroy the equipment, but apparently, setting fire to the hut wasn't a very good idea."

Destroy the surveillance equipment? Sam's mind worked feverishly. It was most likely Snitch Gravel's outpost, because Herrison didn't mention it. And it could explain how Von Crooken had found them so fast.

"Who exactly are you?" Sam asked suspiciously. Herrison hadn't mentioned any backup either.

"Come on, Sam, you're making me feel weird." The man laughed, putting his hands on his hips.

"You know who I am?" Sam yelped. "I mean, how come you know my name?" he asked in a more dignified tone. "And you didn't answer my question."

"Oh, excuse my rudeness." The man gave a theatric bow. "My name is Ron. I know your name because I know your parents. But forget the family reunion part for a minute. What do you think you're doing, going against Snitch Gravel? Are you trying to get killed?"

Sam stared at him blankly for a few seconds. This guy knew his name, knew about Snitch Gravel... knew his parents. There was something there, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "I've gone against Snitch Gravel before and I'm still alive," he finally answered.

"And a lively one you are." Ron measured him from head to foot as though sizing him up for a coffin. "How much longer d'you reckon he'll let you live if you keep defying him like this?"

"I don't need Snitch Gravel's permission to live," Sam spat out before he could help himself.

"Well, that's a better answer than I expected," Ron answered more to himself, turning away from Sam and walking along the river for a few seconds before stopping and facing Sam again.

"You still didn't really tell me who you are. 'I know your parents' doesn't cover much," Sam said.

"Hmm, fair point." Ron looked upward, one finger to his chin. "Your father and I sort of grew up together."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Sort of."

"Yeah. We were very close when we were kids, but drifted apart in later years."

"You don't look anywhere near my father's age."

"I'm not. That's why we drifted apart. He grew up and I didn't." Ron's smile was starting to get annoying.

"Okay, Dad's old friend. What are you doing here?" Sam asked,

Ron hesitated for a moment, then the annoying smile fell back in place. "I was looking for you."

"You were looking for me," Sam repeated blankly. "And out of all the places in the world, you decided to try your luck and look for me in the middle of a desert."

"I can't say a desert would've been my first choice." Ron laughed. "I followed you here."

"Followed me... from where?"

"Chicago, of course!" Ron answered on a tone that suggested Sam was rather limited for not figuring out that much.

Sam narrowed his eyes and studied Ron carefully, trying to figure out if he'd ever seen him before. If he was telling the truth, that was problematic as well because they had a tail they hadn't noticed. He doubted it, what with the rapids and everything, but he couldn't be sure. Deciding to discuss this with his brothers, he moved on to other pressing matters.

"Okay, so you were looking for me. Why?"

Ron shrugged. "I just wanted to see how you grew up. I haven't seen you since you were a baby."

"And, after eighteen years, you followed me all the way from Chicago just for that," Sam concluded trying to keep the skepticism out of his voice. If his father had sent this guy to watch over them, they were in the deepest puddle of crap possible.

"Eighteen years... It's that how long it's been?" Ron asked sadness gripping his features. "You're as old as I was when I last saw you."

"Really? I thought you were much younger than that," Sam said, momentarily distracted from asking himself questions. Thirty six. The guy didn't look thirty six.

"Really? I always thought I looked much older than I am. Anyway, who cares? I've found you. And you're not what I expected you to be."

Sam frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You're nothing like your father. I expected you to be like him, but you're not." The thought seemed to bring Ron pain, and he looked away.

The conversation was getting weirder by the minute. "And is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"It depends on how you see your father," Ron answered with a shrewd smile.

"No, it actually depends on how you see my father," Sam corrected him.

Ron laughed. "Too true. It's about time we headed back to camp. Your brothers might be worried about you by now. And I want to see how they grew up too." Ron strode down the bank, towards camp. It took him a few moments to realize Sam wasn't coming along.

"What makes you think I'm taking you to camp?" he asked coldly, his arms folded across his chest.

"I see you still don't trust me." The smile left Ron's face and he looked disappointed. "I've been through a lot to find you. That outpost I just blew up was Snitch Gravel's. I was trying to help you pass it unnoticed. I don't know how else to prove that I'm trust worthy." He let out a dramatic sob. "After all, I've known your parents for years, I was there when you were born, the first to hold you, the one to take you to your mother..." He stopped abruptly and turned away. "I'm bringing out some painful memories because of you, memories of what I've left behind."

Sam stared bewildered, suddenly grabbed by the desire to laugh hysterically. But he thought it might hurt Ron's feelings, so he put his hand on his shoulder instead. "Hey, I'm sorry."

Ron grunted, but didn't shove Sam's hand away.

"I couldn't trust you so easily," Sam continued, though he wasn't exactly sure he trusted Ron now. "You could've been one of Snitch Gravel's men trying to infiltrate our camp. You wouldn't be his first attempt either." He paused. Ron had no reaction to this which was actually a good sign. "But I feel you're telling the truth. So, come on. I'll take you to camp."

As they walk to camp, Ron was silent in contemplation. Sam watched him as inconspicuously as possible, but he didn't seem dangerous. And Sam had indeed felt that Ron's display of emotion was genuine. Whether that meant he was safe or not, he had no idea. He desperately needed a second opinion. Anyway, they could always tie Ron up and throw him in a tent.

"Listen, I'm sorry I got all weepy with you back there," Ron said suddenly, scaring the crap out of Sam. "I have no reason to be depressed. I came to find you guys, and that worked out well."

"That's okay. I didn't think you were weepy," Sam answered and noticed to his relieve that they'd reached camp.