The evening mists rose from the heated rocks, softening the outlines of the peaks so that the island looked like a crumpled sheet. And, just as silently, the sense of confinement came in off the darkening ocean like a breeze.

16

They parted before getting into Two Boats.

“Listen,” Thomas said. “It’s probably best if you keep a distance from me. I don’t know what’s about to happen. I probably can’t show my face much anymore. If you hear anything I’d appreciate you letting me know—just come to the base. But don’t put yourself in danger. And don’t believe what people say.”

“I won’t. I’ll see if I hear anything.”

“This is a great island in many ways. I’d just really avoid the wrong crowds.”

“Okay.”

Kane drove back to Georgetown. In the beam of his headlights the roads crawled. The crabs had come out, with orange legs and purple pincers, scuttling across roads and pathways toward the sea. Human life had also roused itself, free of the oppressive sun. Lights had turned on in homes and other buildings. The rocks dissolved into the night and the thin, electric forms of civilization became visible like an X-ray.

Kane imagined the patterns of desire and secrecy becoming visible too, webs of lust, guilt, shame. Morality shaped itself to the environment at hand. In his experience, no one’s ethics were stronger than those of the people around them. Groups released themselves into depravity as one. That didn’t mean Connor himself might not have woven some tall tales, but there was a ring of truth to what his father said. Adults turning from the radars, from the secrets of nations and armies to the mystery of girls becoming women.

Just before One Boat, Kane passed a young man in US Air Force fatigues who flagged him down. The airman had been trying to transport crates on the back of a motorbike, but the ropes had snapped.

“Could really use a lift to the base.”

“Sure. Jump in.”

The young man filled the back seat with boxes of mushrooms and got in.

“Mind if I smoke?” he said.

“Go ahead.”

“You smoke?”

“I’m fine.”

No matter how many warzones Kane visited, the childlike youth of military personnel never failed to surprise him. The man couldn’t have been older than twenty.

“How long have you been here?” Kane asked.

“Four hundred and seventeen days.” He laughed. “Oh boy.”

“Many to go?”

“Two hundred, I believe. Join the Air Force, see the world. Didn’t tell me the world was like this.” He whistled softly. Kane thought of the generations of young men before him, in slightly different uniforms with similar looks of youthful stoicism; back through World War II and the Napoleonic Wars, staring at the same rocks.

“How’s business on the US base?”

“All nice and quiet. Better than Iraq, that’s for sure.”

“Did you serve in Iraq?”