Page 13 of Delirium

Iheld my breath, waiting for the explanation Camp would offer us. I knew Nash and I were on the same page, and could easily overrule James, but James had a weird pull over Nash. I wasn’t sure what had gone on behind the scenes. All I knew was, if Camp’s explanation was flimsy, and James wanted him off the boat, it wouldn’t take much for Nash to jump sides.

It could’ve been something as simple as money, but some inexplicable itch in the back of my brain didn’t quite fit. It couldn’t have been as simple as cold, hard cash. James had to have something more over Nash.But what…

Camp opened his mouth, closed it, and licked his lips—the first nervous habit I had seen from him. He didn’t necessarily have a powerful aura about him, but he seemed to be in control of his situation, in control of himself.

It was a curious contradiction, really. I wondered if he even knew the divergence in his personality, compared to the countless behaviors I had studied.

“I’m not sure I can say anything that isn’t going to make James want to crucify me further,” Camp began. He met my eyes, blue like my own, like James’, but so much deeper, like the earth spiraling in space. “Yes, I tampered with a pipeline. I imploded it with a bomb of my own creation. But no one was hurt, and I was very careful to leave as little impact on the environment as possible. Is trying to save the world really a reason to let me rot in prison for the rest of my life?”

James scoffed. “I don’t think it’s going to be the rest of your life. And just because no one was physically hurt doesn’t mean livelihoods weren’t harmed. Did you ever think about that?”

“I did.” Camp pulled himself up higher, straightening his back. “I weighed the pros and cons carefully. I decided I’d rather leave a world my kids will actually be able to survive in, rather than stuff another rich man’s pockets with money.”

Even if I hadn’t already been on his side, what he said made sense. And he was right. He made too much sense to let him waste his life in prison.

“I don’t think we should turn him over to the authorities,” I said.

Camp nodded in my direction gratefully.

James' eyes widened, but before he could speak, I cut him off. “Nash, what do you think?”

I needed Nash on my side before James made his opinion apparent.

Nash crossed his arms, running a keen eye over Camp. “I think you’re right.” He held up a hand to James, right as he began to splutter. “I understand your concerns, but it will not be an issue. At the end of the day, whatever he did does not affect you, or the rest of our timeline. I willnotbe forced into being the executioner on my own boat.”

“Fine,” James spat. “I can see when I’m overruled. We let the criminal go, and everyone is happy. Can we drop him off now, and get on with it then?”

Camp visibly relaxed, losing several inches as he slumped into himself. I smiled, until a thought occurred to me. “Wait. Do you have anywhere to go?”

“Don’t start this,” James muttered.

Camp ignored him and shrugged. “Not really. I was just going to keep a low profile until I could get back home, but I’m not sure how much of my face the security guard saw. It’s cool though. I came prepared to hang out for a bit. Lots of ready-to-eat meals and shit like that.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, knowing whatever I said next was going to piss James off even more.Did I care?I hadn’t come here to make friends. I came here to learn about people. Study the culture. Still, I turned away from him before I spoke, addressing Nash alone. “I think we should let him stay with us. On the boat. There’s more than enough room for all of us, and by the time we make it back upriver, it’ll be safe for him to travel home.”

“What!” James’ anger was palpable, even without me looking at him. “That is the craziest?—“

Nash’s gaze flickered over to James, carrying the slightest hint of what looked like apprehension. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with him staying on board? I don’t have any ID or any background on him like I normally get for all my guests.”

I raised my eyebrow, giving Camp a once over. “I mean, if he was willing enough to confess to any kind of crime, I’d like to think he’d have no issues telling us anything else. Right?”

“What kind of fucked up logic—" James spluttered harder.

Camp raised his hands in the air. “Just the one bomb, I swear. I’d never hurt a person. Do you want my passport? I think I have it somewhere in here. Hold on…” He rifled through his hiking backpack, rumpled clothes and silver packages of ready-to-eat food spilling everywhere. Obviously, organization was not his strong suit.

Nash held his hand up. “It’s fine, Camp. You’re good. You can stay. You’re stuck with us until the next dock, though. I’m the last boat out here before the rainy season. There’s only one last stop.”

The trees overhead rustled in the nearly non-existent breeze, merely blowing more stagnant air around our faces.

“No, really. I don’t want anyone—" the word dripped with venom, “—thinking I have something more to hide.” He thrust a crumpled passport in Nash’s direction. “Take a look. Couldn’t get on the plane without it.”

Nash took the passport, giving it a cursory once over. “You’re fine, man. Just don’t get in the way, don’t piss anyone off, and we’re good. I’m sure you’ll find some way to help out along the way. There’s not a whole lot of rules on board. Keep your space clean, don’t be stupid. Your cellphone won’t work out here, so hopefully that’s not an issue for you. See that bell right there?” He pointed to a rusty, golden bell I hadn’t noticed before, hanging next to the wheelhouse. “I’ll only ring the bell if I need everyone on deck immediately. Other than that, make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” Camp reached to take his passport back, but before he could, James snatched it out of Nash’s hand.

“Campbell Alexander Hart. That’s a mouthful of a name for someone likeyou, don’t you think?” James sneered.

I didn’t like James’ attitude. At all. Who was he to decide who was worthy of a name or not? Just because he had different experiences didn’t make him lesser than us. “Maybe you should worry more about yourself, and less about Camp,” I snapped. “Because you seem to care a little too much about something that has no bearing onyou.”

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