Chapter 455: Marlon’s teachings and Fishes

I walked quietly along the road beyond the State Marina and the Golden Nugget Hotel.

The hotel was in our possession now.

It stood near the water like one of the main gates protecting this side of our territory. In theory, it should have made it difficult for Callighan’s men to enter through the Absecon Inlet. Anyone trying to come through the marina would have to deal with guards, barricades, and people watching the water.

But Callighan’s people had found another route.

They had circled around the city simply.

It took them longer, but they had not needed a large force to carry out their plan. The Screamer attack had never been a real invasion. They had not come to occupy the Boardwalk or storm it with an army.

They had come to destroy it.

A few devices.

The Three Stones Matrix.

Enough time to place everything in the right locations.

That had been all they needed.

I nodded briefly toward the guards posted in front of the Golden Nugget before continuing farther down the road.

The morning air was cold near the water. The smell of salt mixed with damp wood, old fuel, and the faint rot that seemed impossible to get away from in this world.

I continued toward the place where I was supposed to take a boat when the time came to meet Tommy and the others at Brigantine.

It was not far from the water, hidden enough that people passing through the area would not pay much attention to it. Tommy usually left messages for me inside a small weathered box near the shoreline.

I could imagine him dead in the night paddling his boat until here to leave the message for me.

Anyway, a potential message, that was why I had come here this morning.

I needed to know whether he had left anything new.

It didn’t take long for me to find the box.

My fingers tightened as I opened it.

Inside was a folded piece of paper.

I took it out and unfolded it immediately.

The message was short.

Tommy and the others had a boat.

They had managed to secure one.

Now they only needed the keys to the rooms where Mei and Keith were locked at night. As for Emily, Tommy wrote that he had already made arrangements for her. He would not leave Brigantine without her.

And the escape would happen before the end of the week.

It was Thursday today.

Finally.

I crumpled the paper slowly in my hand.

Mei.

Emily.

At least I could get them out of that hell.

The thought made a strange mixture of relief and tension rise in my chest. They had been trapped in Brigantine for too long. Every extra day they spent there felt wrong. Every day meant more chances for Callighan, Gaspar, or other sick psychos in that place to do something irreversible.

I raised my gaze.

Across the water, Brigantine stood in the distance.

So close.

Yet still impossibly far away.

The lake separated us by only a short stretch of water, but getting to them felt harder than crossing an entire country. There were guards, weapons, patrols, Gaspar’s heightened senses, Callighan’s people, and the fact that one mistake could get Mei, Keith, Tommy, or Emily killed.

But now it was only a question of time.

The boat was ready.

The plan was moving.

I turned away from the water and headed back toward the Boardwalk.

When I went back, I heard Molly call out to me.

"Ryan!"

I looked over.

Molly stood near one of the repaired barricades, speaking with a couple of people carrying wooden planks. When she saw that she had my attention, she raised a hand.

"Marlon wants to talk to you."

I nodded.

"Alright."

I headed toward Brighton Park.

Usually, if Marlon wanted to see me there, it meant training.

But not today.

It had only been two days since Gaspar nearly beat me to death. My ribs were still sore, bruises still covered my body, and even with Dullahan helping me recover, I was nowhere near ready to resume training.

So whatever Marlon wanted, it was not another beating disguised as a lesson.

When I reached the park, I spotted him immediately.

He stood near the middle of the open area beside a table that had been dragged out onto the grass. Several buckets sat nearby. A pile of freshly caught fish rested beside them.

Marlon held a large knife in one hand.

With practiced movements, he cut into a fish, removed the scales, sliced it open, and pulled out the organs before tossing them into a separate container.

I stopped a few feet away and sighed.

"This really isn’t the place to cut fish."

Marlon did not look up.

"Why not?"

He kept working, his knife moving steadily through another fish.

"Because it’s a park," I said. "People are supposed to relax here. Not sit around with the smell of fish organs in their noses."

"There’s no better place to work than here," Marlon replied.

"That is not the point."

Marlon gave a quiet chuckle.

Then he finally turned toward me.

Without warning, he held the knife out in my direction.

I stared at it.

The blade was stained with blood and fish scales.

"What?"

"Come on," Marlon said. "If you’re a man, you should know how to properly cut fish. Then you can cook for yourself eventually."

I looked at the knife with a grimace.

Of all the skills Marlon could decide I needed, this was apparently the priority.

I sighed and took it.

"Alright," I said. "Listen."

Marlon took another fish from the bucket and dropped it onto the wooden table between us.

It hit the surface with a wet sound.

I looked down at it.

Then at the knife in my hand.

Then back at Marlon.

"You’re serious."

"Very."

"It’s dead already. Why do I need to fight it too?"

Marlon sighed through his nose.

"You cut the belly first. Not like you’re trying to stab somebody."

"I know that."

"You clearly don’t."

I gave him a look.

Marlon ignored it and pointed at the fish.

"Hold it steady. Start from there. Use the tip of the knife and cut upward."

I did what he said.

At first, the blade slipped slightly against the scales.

"Not like that," Marlon said immediately.

"I literally just started."

"And you started badly."

"Helpful."

"Do it again."

I gritted my teeth.

Marlon’s tone was the same as during training. Sharp, impatient, and somehow capable of making even cutting a fish feel like I was failing some military exam.

Still, I tried again.

This time, I pressed the fish down with one hand and carefully slid the blade into its belly. The knife cut through the skin with more resistance than I expected. I moved it upward slowly, opening the fish along its underside.

"Better," Marlon said.

I glanced at him.

"That sounded almost like praise."

"Don’t get used to it."

"Of course."

"Now open it."

I followed his instructions and pulled the cut apart.

The smell hit me immediately.

I stopped.

Marlon smiled slightly.

"Good, right?"

"It seems awful," I said.

Marlon laughed.

Not a quiet chuckle either. He actually laughed while shaking his head.

"Once it’s cooked properly, you won’t be saying that."

I looked down at the fish again.

"Fine," I admitted. "Cooked fish is good."

"Exactly."

He reached over, guiding my hand as he showed me where to cut next.

"You remove these first. Don’t tear everything apart. If you do it badly, you waste meat."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Pay attention."

"I am paying attention."

Marlon gave me a look that said he did not believe me.

I sighed and continued.

Under his guidance, I removed the organs, scraped away the remaining insides, and cleaned the fish as best as I could. It was disgusting work, but after the first one, it became less unbearable. I started understanding where to cut and how hard to press without ruining the meat.

Marlon stood beside me, occasionally correcting my grip or pointing out something I missed.

"No, take that part out too."

"I was going to."

"You weren’t."

"I was."

"You were staring at it."

"I was thinking."

"Thinking too slowly."

I glared at him.

Marlon only smiled.

After a few more minutes, I finished cleaning another fish and set it aside.

Marlon looked it over.

"You learn fast."

"I just want to get this over with."

He chuckled.

"Fair enough."

I reached for another fish.

Marlon watched me for a moment before speaking again.

"If I had a son, I imagine he would pester and complain as much as you do."

My hand stopped.

I looked at him.

Marlon seemed to realize what he had just said at the same time.

For the first time since I had known him, he looked slightly embarrassed.

It only lasted a second.

Then he reached over and slapped my back.

"Come on," he said. "Hurry up!"

"Ugh!"

The slap sent a sharp jolt through my sore ribs.

I groaned and turned toward him, glaring.

"You just printed your filthy hand onto my newly washed shirt."

Marlon looked at the dark stain his hand had left against the fabric.

Then he scoffed.

"You talk like a little girl."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means stop complaining and clean the fish."

I looked down at my shirt again.

Then at the fish.

Then back at Marlon.

"You are the worst teacher."

"And yet you’re still learning."

With a sigh, I picked up the knife again and got back to work.