by Otto Schafer
Garrett’s ribs, back, and head throbbed painfully and, thanks to the ridge-hand strike to the throat, it hurt to swallow. Even through the pain and intense moments of battle, he searched his mind for the trail, the door to his focus, but it had been out of reach. Now Lenny, his best friend in the world, lay on the floor unable to get up, gasping for air. He had been crushed into a heap after coming to his aid, all while knowing he would lose not only this fight but his future at the school.
Suddenly, Garrett knew exactly what to do.
On his feet once again, Garrett backed away from Mr. B to the opposite end of the dojo. There, the two tables still stood, stacked one on top of the other. Upon the upper table stood the three stones, mocking him, like stars in the night sky… hopelessly untouchable.
“I choose the break,” Garrett said hoarsely, his right hand covering his bruised ribs as he stared back at Mr. B.
Mr. B pressed his lips into a tight line, narrowing his eyes at Garrett.
Lenny lifted his head. Deep lines creased his brow in a combination of confusion and pain as he managed to wheeze out a whisper of words through sharp gasps of air. “But… that break’s… not possi—”
“I choose the break.” It was an exhausted plea.
Mr. B searched Garrett’s eyes. He looked as though he might say something, but no words came. Instead, he slowly nodded, then, taking two steps back, he nodded and bowed.
38
Trust and Protect
Wednesday, April 6th, 9:45 a.m.
Day One
Oak Island, Nova Scotia
Pushing off from the raft, Paul swam over to a barely visible piece of the crane. It was part of the telescoping boom that had broken off, but was now wedged against the wall of the pit. The boom was constructed of latticed steel rods. Paul grabbed onto the section above the water and heaved a leg over it.
“What… are you… doing?” Breanne asked as she clung to the raft. The cold water was becoming unbearable and threatened to send her into hyperthermia.
“I’m… trying to pull… this steel framework… apart.” He grunted, pulling on the steel with everything he had, but nothing happened.
Breanne thought about the way the crane hadn’t moved until he was truly afraid they were going to drown. “Paul… concentrate… please. We’re going to freeze in this water. Whatever… you’re trying… to do… please… hurry.”
He looked back towards Bre, Edward, and his unconscious father. “You’re right. We have to get out,” he said, pulling so hard his body shook. He looked desperately at his sister.
Breanne nodded weakly. “Just… relax.” Her whole body jackhammered as she shook uncontrollably, her body attempting to generate heat that the frigid water pulled away from her with relentless cruelty.
She watched on as her brother shook out his hands and closed his eyes. With a deep breath, his body appeared to go slack. That’s it, Paul. You can do this, she thought. Slowly the steel boom groaned like a mighty oak being forced into an unnatural bend. With a final, wrenching jolt, a foot-long section of steel broke free from the boom.
Paul reached up and stuck the piece of metal into the dirt wall of the pit for safekeeping before grabbing another section. Once more, he strained with all he had to break the piece of steel loose from the structure. Again, it was only when he relaxed and concentrated that the steel broke free from the latticed framework.
Taking the piece of steel already protruding from the wall in his left hand, he pulled himself up. Next, he plunged the steel held in his right hand into the wall as high as he could reach. Pulling the rod in his left hand free, he again pulled himself up. Then in a giant arc he swung his left arm up as high as he could reach and thrust the rod into the dirt.
Now it became clear to Breanne what her brother was doing. He was going to scale the pit wall using the two pieces of steel as spikes. My God! she thought. This might actually work!
It did work. In only a few short moments, Paul had ascended the wall and disappeared over the top of the pit. What if Apep is up there? What if he came back? Wait, she told herself. Calm down, Bre. In her heart, she was somehow sure he had gone. She no longer felt his presence on the island, but then again, she wasn’t certain she would. She was freezing and all she could concentrate on was how cold she was. This strange new… Ability? Sixth sense? Whatever it was, it might not even be working now. Maybe she wouldn’t know he was there at all. Maybe the ability could come and go. Maybe when the stones were away from here, their abilities would be gone too? Maybe when the stones were far enough away her father would wake up? Her heart caught in her throat. Daddy. She needed out.
Abruptly, her concentration broke when a length of rope connected to a safety harness nearly struck her in the face.
“Bre, can you put the harness on Pops?” Paul shouted from topside, the silhouette of his head and shoulders poking out over the side of the pit.
“I’ll try,” she shouted back between chattering teeth. It was still a good distance to the top, probably seventy-five feet or so. But just as she had thought, the water had stopped rising.
“You have to get it secure. We don’t want to risk him falling out.”
She was trying, but her fingers were going numb from the cold water, and even if she could feel her fingers, trying to maneuver her large father around while unconscious and slung across a raft was not going to be easy. She was afraid if she knocked him off the raft, she might not be able to keep him above water long enough to get the harness on. Carefully, she worked the harness around him, first one side, then the other. Finally, when she was satisfied she had it secured, she signaled for Paul to begin pulling. She heard an engine and realized Paul must be using his truck to pull her father up.
Her father’s slumped form rose from the water and slid lifelessly up the sheer side of the pit. Once he vanished over the top, she let out a long sigh of relief.
Moments later, the harness and rope came hurling towards her again from the top of the pit. This time she was paying attention, quickly retrieving the harness and going to work on Edward. Floating in and out of consciousness, Edward moaned as Breanne tried to get the harness on him. Suddenly his eyes opened weakly, finding his baby sister.
“You okay?” he asked in barely a whisper.
“I’m… okay. Just… cold,” she said, giving him a faint smile. “Can you lift your arm?”
“Well, I can’t feel my leg. So, I guess—” Edward’s eyes rolled back in his head and he shut off like a light switch, slipping once more into unconsciousness.
Struggling, Breanne somehow managed to secure Edward’s harness and signaled to Paul with a wave.
Paul fired up the truck and began pulling Edward up the wall of the pit, but about halfway up Breanne noticed Edward’s harness slipping over his head.
Breanne gasped.
The harness pulled completely free just as Edward’s eyes popped open.
Breanne flinched away, bracing herself for the inevitable splash to come. But the splash didn’t come. Edward didn’t fall. Instead, he looked up at the harness as it slowly moved away from him, then he looked down at the water below, frowning. Just before the harness was out of reach, he stretched his arm up and grabbed a fistful.
A second later, Edward was being pulled over the lip of the pit.
What? But how? Breanne thought. She shook her head back and forth. She was sure she had seen the harness pulling away. Was she sure? Maybe the cold water was getting to her?
The harness came back over the pit, and two minutes later she was being pulled over the side.
Safe and free of the underground death trap, Breanne found herself with no time to celebrate. Her father and Edward were lying prone a few feet from the pit. “We have to go!” she said as she frantically unclipped the harness.
“I know. We have to get them to a hospital,” Paul said, running back toward the truck.
“Paul! Wait!” Breanne yelled after him.
Paul slid to a stop and turned ar
ound. “What?” he asked.
“How far is the hospital? Should we call an ambulance?”
“Too far. I have a better idea. We have a helicopter, and I can sure as hell fly it.”
“Okay, but we have to hurry. We have to get the stones back. We have to find Apep and get the stones.” She knew in her heart it was the only way to save her father and if she failed – oh dear God, if she failed it would be her fault. It would be her fault just like with her mom. No, she could not let that happen.
“How? We have no idea where that… that thing took them!”
“Petersburg,” she said matter-of-factly. “We have to go to Petersburg, to the land of Lincoln – to find Garrett.” There, she said it. That didn’t sound quite as ridiculous as I thought it would sound.
Paul stared blankly at her for a long moment. “Where in the hell is that?”
“Well, I’m not exactly sure yet,” she said.
“Bre?”
“Yeah?”
“How do you know all this? How?” Paul asked.
It all came out in a hurried scramble of words flowing from her mouth like a fire hydrant being purged in the street. “I had a dream. A horrible dream of fire, and the Templar was there, and he told me we need to go to Petersburg to find this kid, Garrett, and he was in the dream too, and… my God, Paul, people were burning, and the Templar spoke, and he said it’s the only chance to help Daddy, and—”
“Okay, okay… alright, Breanne,” he said finally.
“Okay?” she asked in surprise.
“Yeah, okay. I believe you,” he said.
Breanne threw her arms around her brother and squeezed him tightly. “Thank you, Paul. I honestly didn’t think you’d believe me.”
Paul smiled weakly. “I have no choice but to believe you.”
Relinquishing her embrace, she pulled back to meet his gaze. “What’s that mean?”
“I had a dream too. A dream of fire and burning people,” Paul said, swallowing hard as he squeezed his eyes together, as if trying to force the horrible memory away.
“And you saw the Templar?”
He nodded. “Yes, I saw him and he spoke to me.”
Breanne brightened as his words confirmed she wasn’t delusional. “And he told you about Petersburg? About Garrett?” she asked.
“No… not exactly.”
Breanne’s eyebrows knitted in surprise as she searched his eyes. “Then what?”
“He told me to trust you. Trust you and protect you.”
Breanne blinked.
“So, baby sis – how do we get to Petersburg?”
39
Feathers
Wednesday, April 6th, 5:20 p.m.
Day One
Petersburg, Illinois
Jumping up to reach the stones was not an option and Garrett knew it. There was simply no way to get to that height with the power he needed. The key to this had to be the focus. Garrett closed his eyes as he settled back into a fighting stance, facing the tables head-on. He drew in a long slow breath, exhaled, and drew in another. His pain subsided. The sound of leaves rustling through trees filled his ears and a cool breeze hit his face. Stay with me… Please… Stay with me. He opened his eyes and thrust his right leg outward, curling his toes backward as the simple, but powerful, front snap kick struck the underneath of the lower table with a loud crack. The two tables lifted into the air, causing the patio blocks to launch skyward towards the ceiling.
Lenny gasped.
The trail rushed back to Garrett, filling all his senses. The faint smell of sweet crab apple mixed with the fresh scent of pine. He could practically taste it. A rod of light pierced the forest canopy, bathing him in the warmth of the sun. He squinted into it as he ran. Up ahead he could see a creek crossing. Water crashed around him, so real he could feel the coolness against his skin, the splashing over his feet, water kicking up onto his thighs, as the trail led him bounding through the shallow creek. Everything around him slowed as the vision cleared from his mind like a daydream.
The three stones slowly rose, each at different heights, surging skyward through space. The stones stretched up and up until gravity finally took hold, then they paused for an abnormally long second, maybe two, suspended perfectly. Garrett watched as each stone slowly made its way down towards the ground. Not like a stone falling, but like a feather drifting lightly, gliding downward on unseen currents. When the first stone came within reach, Garrett jumped, kicking upward with the same front snap kick he used to kick the table, but the jump allowed him to get much higher. Instantly, he realized he was not moving at the same speed as the world around him. As he watched the stone slowly rotating, his foot extended out above his head, connecting dead center on the spinning concrete block.
The patio block exploded in real time – a burst of fragmenting concrete.
Before his feet found the mat of the dojo, his eyes locked on another concrete block. This one was closer to him, already at shoulder height. Sliding his left foot forward as he landed, he chambered his right fist next to his ribcage. Without hesitation, he stepped forward with his right foot, set to launch a front knuckle punch through the stone. But it was too close. With only inches between himself and the stone, if he tried to punch there was no way he would have the power to break it. In this fraction of a second, he changed fluidly from the front knuckle strike to an elbow strike, as easily as changing from a long step to a shorter step when measuring space between roots and rocks on the trail.
He connected with the patio block dead center and, like the first block, it exploded in real time into a burst of concrete scattering across the mat.
The third and final stone had fallen to waist height directly off his left side. It was spinning awkwardly in the air, not like the first two. He had been able to front snap kick the first block from underneath as it tumbled horizontally in the air. The second block had spun vertically, allowing him to take it head on, pushing his power through it as he stepped forward. But this block was tumbling catawampus, neither vertically nor horizontally, and it was too low to take from below or beside. He would have to strike it from above. Garrett watched the block summersault askew, mentally measuring every rotation as if he had all the time in the world. He turned into a left spin while drawing his right fist deep into his ribs as if he were trying to get his fist into his armpit. Too afraid he might just push the block down into the floor, he couldn’t risk an open-hand strike. He would have to punch through the block with a closed fist if he were to have any hope at all. Squeezing the tips of his fingers tightly to his palm, he curled his thumb firmly over his index finger and formed a fist he hoped would be tight enough to shatter concrete. With the block to his right side, his left spin took him away and forced him to lose sight of the block for a split second, but he needed both the space and momentum.
Garrett not only had to find the block after the spin, he had to find, strike, and break a block that was falling downward with a downward strike from above. He had never seen anyone, not even Mr. B, break a block that was falling downward while utilizing a downward strike, but Garrett didn’t have time to think about any of that. In fact, only one thought ran through his mind in this fleeting moment. A special mantra, taught to him by a grand master. Despite the beating Mr. B had just given him, it was the wisdom he had shared so long ago when Garrett struggled to break his first block that played over and over in his mind as he watched the block tumble downward.
Look beyond the concrete, past it, and go there.
Garrett completed the spin while at the same time sliding into position for the break. The stone was at knee level but not in the position he needed it to be in.
He sucked in a short breath.
The block fell to shin height as he found the center. He imagined what the mat would feel like against his knuckles and punched downward, releasing a guttural kiup!
His fist connected with the block.
The block burst into pieces as Garrett’s fist passed through the concrete a
nd sank into the mat. Chunks of stone bounced before settling around his fist and feet. Kneeling on one knee, he left his fist in place, afraid to move, unable to comprehend what he had just done.
Lenny struggled to his feet, rubbing his eyes, not trusting what they had just shown him. “I don’t… understand. The blocks slowed down. You saw them slow down, right? You were moving normally, but the blocks… the blocks… I don’t understand? Garrett, how could they slow down?”
Mr. B bowed. “Very good. I should have known sooner to use Lenny to trigger your focus.”
“What? What do you mean use Lenny?” Garrett shouted before standing to run to Lenny’s side. “Are you okay? Anything broken?” Garrett asked, his face ashen with worry.
“I don’t think… my ribs… they aren’t broken, but Mr. B packs… a hell of a kick,” Lenny said, sucking short gasps between his teeth. “Why did you… call him a… Keeper of the Light? Garrett, what’s going on?”
“Boys, come here and sit down,” Mr. B said, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his black dobok before seating himself cross-legged in the center of the dojo.
Garrett eyed the man apprehensively. His master, teacher, the most trusted in his life, a Keeper of the Light. “I don’t think so,” Garrett said, turning his back on the man as he helped Lenny to his feet.
Lenny glanced to Mr. B, hurt and tears filling his eyes. “We passed… your test,” he said bitterly.
“You’re right, Lenny, you both passed the test, and I’m sorry it had to be like this.”
“Let’s just go, Lenny,” Garrett said, pulling at Lenny’s dobok. Something told him he didn’t want to hear what was coming.
