Genesis

Knives and Past Lives

     There was a minute of silence before Colt decided to speak.

     "Why am I here?" he asked me.

     He followed me around another corner as we found ourselves in the aisle with the hunting gear.

     "Because," I started, stopping my stride and looking at him as he came to a stop as well, "You know hunting. You know survival. So I'm guessing you'll know what we need to do just that."

     He nodded, "Alright, let's start with hunting gear then. The best this store has is a wall of knives in the next aisle over."

     I followed him to the wall I had come upon previously and looked at it.

     "So, obviously, not everyone at camp has great intentions if they're holding one of these. So what do we do? Take a bunch and lend them at each hunt? Keeping track of who has what when?"

     "No, that would be too tedious. And not to mention, there's a lot of room for error."

     "What would you suggest then?" he asked me, a hint of annoyance beginning to surface in his tone.

     I thought for a moment, before I replied, "We keep the number of knives to track at a minimum. Everyone here gets a knife, each looking different from the next so that we know whose is whose. Six knives, not that hard to track, and the person who owns the knife can lend it to someone who volunteers to hunt if they want to."

     He paused.

     "So then, we need five more knives," Colt told me.

     "We need four more," I corrected him, pulling the carbon-fiber switchblade from my jacket pocket for him to see.

     "Carbon-fiber," he nodded approvingly when he saw it, which made me both pleased and aggravated at the same time, "Four more. Let's start with Dorian. How would you describe him?"

     "What, are we going to match the knife to the hunter based on their personality?" I joked.

     "Don't be absurd," he told me, "The hunter does not choose the blade. The blade chooses the hunter."

     I smiled at his joke, and while I imagined that he was amused, there was no noticeable difference on his face from the look of nonchalance mixed with disdain that he always wore.

     "How would you describe Dorian?" he asked me. I gave him a quizzical look.

     "Wouldn't you know him better than I do? I mean, Indus Correctional can't be that big of a place. You must have hung out with him some time or other."

     I noticed Colt's eyebrows furrowing slightly.

     "I didn't really see much of anyone else at juvie," he told me. This confused me further.

     "But weren't you roommates with Lucius?"

     He returned my puzzled glance as I spoke again.

     "I heard him calling you roomie before," I explained.

     Colt paused.

     "That was a long time ago."

     "Couldn't have been that long ago," I said to him.

     He looked at me again before telling me;

     "It was a year after I first got put in juvie. I was twelve at the time. So that's... almost five years ago now."

     I bit the inside of my lip when I realized that he must have been in juvie for six years. I decided not to press too much further, as I didn't want to tamper with the strange sort of calm in our conversation. There was a silence as I thought of something to say.

     "So in all your time there, you never hung out with anyone?" I asked him, realizing afterward that those words were the very thing on my mind that I was trying to avoid.

     He furrowed his eyebrows slightly more at my question.

     "Let's get back to knives," he began again, "So, Dorian. Describe him in three words."

     I decided not to try to make conversation about that anymore, but at the same time, I couldn't help but be curious about his past, about all of their pasts.

     "I don't know. I've only known him for three days."

     "Well, you have a strong intuition, so use it," he told me.

     I thought for a moment about words I could use to describe Dorian.

     "Practical, sensitive, and brave."

     Colt scanned the wall, deciding on a silver knife with a rustic wooden handle.

     "Should I describe Lucius next?" I asked him. He scoffed.

     "I already know Lucius. Dangerous, reckless, and unreliable. His personality would match a ninja star. Lucky for us, this store doesn't stock them."

     I was surprised by his assertion, noting that he had a particularly strong dislike for Lucius.

     "I would describe Lucius as courageous, adventurous, and optimistic."

     "Then you obviously don't know him very well."

     "And you do? Also, what happened to me having a 'strong intuition '?"

     Colt paused.

     "Lucius just has a way of... letting people see what they want to see," he said, picking a knife with one side covered in a bright white coat, and the other side covered in a pitch black coat, "Danny next."

     "Warm, outgoing, and playful," I told him.

     Colt picked a silvery knife with a metallic handle, a metal ring at the end of it.

     "Kit?"

     "Sensible, caring, and helpful."

     Colt grabbed a multipurpose pocket knife.

     "So, that's all done then. What next?" I asked him.

     "We'll need... fishing gear. Wires and a few other things for setting traps. An electric-powered portable grill, a gas-powered portable generator... maybe a tent where we can keep all the gear. Somewhere we can boil water to disinfect it before use, and containers for that water."

     "I've got Kit on water containers," I told him, "I should probably go check that the others are doing what they're supposed to and not trying to sneak in water guns. You should go to the front and get a shopping cart to grab whatever we need. I'll make sure there's space left in the trucks for when you come back. Deal?"

     He nodded at me, handed me the knives, and we went our separate ways.