The Darkening Archipelago Read Online Free

shuffling, moving, colliding. In the corners, the shapes of men glistening with sweat could be seen jumping rope and doing push-ups and sit-ups, holding up punch mitts while their training partners worked through a combination. The sound of a tinny radio rattled in a far corner, where no one listened to it.
    Cole Blackwater stepped in, gloves up, and Frankie Fingers began to circle again. They traded punches, Cole landing a blow to Frankie’s belly, which didn’t move the man at all. Their shoulders touched and the two men stepped back. More punches. Fingers tried to feint again, but this time Cole saw it and, instead of stepping to the right, stepped forward and caught Fingers with a left-right combination. But he still took Fingers’ roundhouse on the cheek.
    The bell sounded and both men retreated.
    â€œPretty good, pretty good,” came a voice from the darkness beyond the ring. “Grab a seat.” Cole stepped back into his corner. Frankie Fingers did the same, his smile exaggerated by the mouthguard he pushed out of his teeth.
    A small black man, not more than five-foot-six, hoisted himself onto the ring. “You’re doing okay there, Cole,” he said, wiping Cole’s face with a towel. “You’re learning. You’re learning. You didn’t step into that right hook that Frankie likes to throw. Good for you. Good for you. But you’ve still got to stop thinking about what to do after you avoid that sort of set up. Got to just let your body respond. Don’t think. There’s no time for that. Just let your body do what it knows how to do. Respond.”
    The man made a jab with his small hand. “Let your body get the information from your eyes without you getting in the way.” He tapped Cole’s head. “I see you hesitate for just a second, and that’s why you’re not landing that left-right combination.” The man picked up a water bottle and squirted some water on Cole’s face and in his hair, then wiped him down again. He pushed the bent straw from the bottle between Cole’s teeth and let him drink.
    â€œI’m feeling old, Jessie,” Cole said, spitting a mouthful of water into a bucket.
    The man grinned. He wore a pork-pie hat at a rakish angle over his tight black curls. “You are old, Cole. But don’t let that stop you from having some fun in there. Okay?”
    â€œThanks, Jessie,” Cole said sardonically, still breathing hard. He fit his mouthguard back in place.
    Jessie turned to the shadows and said, “Okay, Denny, let ’em have it.”
    The bell rang and Cole moved in quickly with a series of punches, all of which Fingers blocked with arms and shoulders. The men circled each other, looking for openings with quick punches.
    Somewhere in the room a cellphone chimed, and for a moment Cole’s attention was diverted. He paid for it as Fingers landed a quick left jab, but Cole managed to step away from the right that followed. The phone rang again.
    â€œYou want me to get that, Cole?” came a voice from the shadows.
    â€œBusy right now,” Cole mumbled through his mouthguard.
    He could hear Denman Scott rummaging through his bag next to the ring. The ringing stopped.
    Cole stepped forward with two left jabs and a right hook, but Fingers absorbed the blows and hit Cole with an uppercut that set him back on his feet. His stomach was his weak spot. Cole stepped in with a punch to Frankie’s gut and the two men locked for a moment.
    â€œKnock it off!” came Jessie’s voice from the side, followed by laughter.
    â€œCole, it’s Mary,” Denman said.
    Cole stepped away and Frankie stepped in.
    â€œCole, it’s important.”
    Cole and Frankie circled, eyes low, brows streaked with sweat, panting.
    â€œCole!”
    Cole Blackwater’s attention slipped off Frankie Fingers like a wet bar of soap off the side of a bathtub. Fingers saw the opening, feinted left,