Nobility

by Mason Dakota

  My soul twisted in despair at the hopelessness of the situation. Either Chamberlain lived enslaved to a chair with the brutal reminder of what he sacrificed for me…or he succumbed to his injuries and died. It was all so wrong. Nothing seemed fair anymore.

  I knew Chamberlain wouldn’t see his situation that way and with such dread. He would talk up his situation and sacrifice to something profound like love…but what love gives you pain in return? My selfishness did this, not love. He paid the price for my choices.

  Death comes for the selfless, not the selfish.

  “Thank you, Sir for everything you’ve done for him,” said Alison. The doctor nodded and moved away to somewhere out of my peripheral vision.

  “He did it for you. You know that, right? So what are you going to do for him?” Michael whispered.

  Probably something selfish once again.

  I whispered, “Burn the world if I must.”

  I turned to leave. By the time I reached the door Alison called out, “Wait, what exactly does that mean?”

  “You heard the doctor. He needs time to rest to see if he can recover. I’m going to make sure he has the best chance to fight for his life,” I said as I opened the door to leave.

  I stopped before exiting and turned back to face those most dear in my life, possibly for the last time. I saw love. I saw them begging for answers. I saw the smallest spark of hope choked by darkness. I saw pride and camaraderie. But I also saw pain. Years of pain that took us to that sad moment.

  I wanted to say something heroic, like a final speech. After all, isn’t that what they do in the movies? The hero always inspires the crowd with a grand speech. But the real hero lay before us, fighting to survive.

  I’m no hero.

  I gave them one last smile, praying it communicated every loving word I thought but couldn’t speak. Their eyes sparkled with the received message. I stepped outside the apartment and closed the door behind me. I made it down the stairwell and to the light pole in front of the apartment complex before I stopped. I leaned myself against the pole and struggled to breathe through the pain in my heart.

  Suddenly Michael appeared at my side.

  “You cannot do this alone. I am coming with you.”

  “No, you can’t help me, Michael. It’s too dangerous for you. I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  Michael straightened up with a strong sense of confidence. It took me by surprise. He always seemed emotional and fragile with his quirks and childish behavior.

  “For years, it’s always been you and Chamberlain facing the dangers with me safe behind a computer screen. I was a coward to never stand by both of you. I can’t be that anymore. I know you blame yourself for Chamberlain, and you don’t want the same happening to the rest of us. But you need me. I can help you find Ziavir. I can watch your back.”

  I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. I stood there with my mouth wide open like a fool. A movement caught my eye and I looked up to see Alison standing in the apartment doorway. She slipped forward past Michael. Each step seemed tiring for her. She stopped in front of me. Though she was shorter, right then I felt tiny before her. I didn’t have the heart to look her in the eye; she stood there, still, and waited for me to gather my courage.

  “He would have done it all over again for you. Make him proud.”

  She is giving me her blessing to die.

  Alison hugged me tightly, longer than she ever had before. She released me to return to where she belonged—by Chamberlain’s side. I watched her close the door and wondered if I would ever see her or Chamberlain again.

  I cocked my head at Michael and whispered, “If you’re serious, then come on. We’ve got a lot to do and very little time to do it.”

  “I’m with you, but on one condition.” Like magic he conjured up Chamberlain’s car keys in his hands and said, “You let me drive.”

  “Where would I be without you, Michael?”

  “Probably a lot worse off than before.”

  He’s probably right.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  We pulled into the Stinks near our hideout just as a black mid-sized truck with tinted windows pulled in as well.

  “Um, expecting company, Griffon?” asked Michael a bit worried. Vehicles of any sort in the Stinks usually meant the mob intended to dump a body.

  “It’s a friend,” I said, and I left it at that and got out of the car. Michael cautiously stepped out with me but didn’t come around his door. The truck’s driver side door opened and out stepped Thomas.

  “I started to think you wouldn’t be coming,” I called out as I moved toward Thomas. I offered my hand and he shook it as he gave me an odd look up and down. I didn’t blame him for the look.

  I stood barefoot, wearing an embarrassing green and yellow Hawaiian shirt with sweatpants. Bandages wrapped my arms, legs and torso, and everything else felt swollen and bruised.

  “I didn’t think I would either. Your request seemed rather…unusual. Do you mind telling me what’s going on?”

  I patted him on the shoulder and said, “Come inside and I’ll explain everything.”

  I moved toward the run-down building’s doors and opened them for everyone. Thomas went in and Michael followed. Michael gave me a strained and confused look and hissed, “What is he doing here! He’s a Noble.”

  I laid my hand on Michael’s shoulder and said, “Good people are found everywhere, Michael. I met Thomas at the Mayor’s office. He was my driver. Besides, we’re going to need the help.”

  Before Michael responded, I walked in front of him into the small, destroyed office space. Thomas stood in the center looking at some papers.

  “Follow me,” I said as I walked to the cubicle with the removable floor mat. He arched an eyebrow when I lifted the hidden trap door.

  “If you think I’m going down there…”

  I smiled and grabbed one of the flashlights taped beneath an old desk and said, “I think curiosity will get the better of you.” Then I walked down the stairs into our hideout spot. It took a couple of seconds, but Thomas finally came down with Michael cautiously on his tail.

  Thomas’ mouth dropped when he saw the room below.

  “What is this place?” Thomas asked. His wide eyes darted around the strange room. My duster and mask held his attention the most. He gasped, “You’re him, the one everyone’s been whispering about for days. The one they call Shaman!”

  Instead of answering him, I strode over to my duster and inspected it. Rupert’s machete tore gashes into the leather which left white cloth escaping from the seams. A few bullet holes decorated the lower portions of the coat.

  Which hole crippled Chamberlain?

  I rubbed my hand down the fabric, smoothing out the creases with gentle hands. I reached onto one of the shelves and picked up one of my Shaman masks. I stared into the eye sockets and gently caressed the fabric with the tips of my fingers. Chamberlain wore the mask last to defend my reputation and my life. Suddenly it felt a thousand pounds heavier.

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble,” said Thomas.

  “He wouldn’t have invited you here if he intended to harm you,” said Michael.

  “And you…you work with him? I always thought Shaman worked alone.”

  “In the field, yes. I am more like his eyes in the sky, or maybe voice in his ear is more accurate,” said Michael.

  “They say you’re a thief…and a killer. Is that true?” Thomas asked me. His words pierced my soul. A thief I was and a proud one.

  But to his second accusation…

  “Don’t believe everything you hear in the news,” I whispered. “But yes…I am Shaman.”

  “Why bring me here?”

  “The city is dying and we are the only ones willing to stop Ziavir from killing it. We need your help. We need fighters who want to save this city.”

  Thomas scoffed in disbelief, glanced at Michael and then the door.

  “You’re free to walk out that door and report
everything you see here, even my true identity. We won’t try to stop you. You’re not some prisoner or slave forced to assist us. But I hope you will help, because I believe you’re a good man.”

  Thomas stood there blinking and looking back and forth between Michael and me with his mouth hanging open. “You can’t be serious,” he whispered.

  “Oh, believe me. He is. You don’t know Griffon like I do,” Michael said as he found himself a stool to sit on.

  “And you’re his partner?” asked Thomas.

  Michael laid a hand upon his chest and said, “My name is Michael, Griffon’s tech specialist.”

  “He’s my friend, Thomas. That is something I hope to consider you to be as well,” I said.

  “And do you ask all your friends to die for you?” Thomas asked.

  Michael laughed and said, “I like this guy!”

  Thomas glanced at him, not thinking his question was funny. Michael shrugged and said, “To answer your question, yes…he’s been known to do that. He’s a loner unless the stakes are high enough to get someone killed.”

  Thomas shook his head and said, “Even if you are…Shaman. You shouldn’t be getting involved. Leave it for the authorities to solve. The Emperor will—”

  “—Sit back and do nothing!” I interrupted. Thomas’ eyes grew wide; as if such a possibility defied everything he believed. Michael showed no surprise, being an Outcast used to an oppressive government.

  “What do you mean?” Thomas whispered.

  “The Emperor ordered the military to surround the city outside the blast radius. They’ve blockaded us in, caged like animals. The NPFC is assisting them while claiming to be searching for Ziavir. But those in charge of the NPFC are in league with Ziavir and are using their position to protect him.”

  “If what you say is true,” said Thomas, his eyes growing darker by the second, “then we truly are hopeless in doing anything. We would only be killed. Are you really sure about this?”

  “If it’s for a good cause,” said Michael with a wink. Michael began picking up random items off a shelf and throwing them in a bag.

  Suddenly he stopped, stamped his foot and said, “Dang it. That was the perfect moment to say something inspirational and profound and I ruined it!” He shook his head and started stuffing more objects into his bag while muttering under his breath.

  I chuckled at how easily Michael accepted everything. Maybe Outcasts like Michael and I found the looming presence of death an expected partner in life. We grew numb to its ever-present threat years ago. Outcasts were accustomed to finding friends or family members beaten or killed unjustly due to their genetics.

  Thomas said, “You’re both crazy. But I guess…I’m not much of a man if I choose to do nothing when others need me. I’m in.”

  “Like I said. I like this guy,” said Michael.

  I smiled and tossed him one of the hunting rifles from the rack. “Welcome to the life of an outlaw, Thomas.” I said.

  “Not quite. I’m not a killer.”

  Is he judging me?

  I reached over to a pack of tranquilizer rounds on a shelf and tossed them over to him. “Then don’t be one. Use those. They’re all I have,” I said.

  I won’t make you a killer.

  He nodded in appreciation and took time to inspect the weapon and ammunition. “Tell me you at least have a plan here.”

  I looked toward Michael and said, “Well that depends on Michael.”

  “Give me a couple of minutes and I will find him,” Michael said as he opened up his laptop and began furiously typing.

  Thomas asked, “How are you going to do that?”

  Michael smiled at the question. “Well thank you for asking. Griffon never lets me explain what I do. He thinks it wastes precious time. He wants immediate results of the end goal, not the journey to get there. It is really quite insulting to what I do and shows no appreciation for my work. After all what I do isn’t easy and not everyone—”

  “—Michael, get to the point!” I shouted in frustration. Michael snapped his mouth shut and squinted his eyes till his brow wrinkled. Thomas appeared amused by both of us.

  Michael said, “Fine. It is really quite simple. Ziavir’s broadcast shows him in some kind of factory or warehouse, a sensible position to defend if the need arose. There is a window behind him with the remnants of the Gyver Tower in view. So this is what I am trying to do. I am cross referencing the view of the tower with other buildings in view with matching angles and possible distance and correlating them with locations of buildings like warehouses and factories. From there I can work to find the exact location of Ziavir and the bomb. Simply trigonometry. Here, let me show you how it works.”

  From then on I tuned Michael out as I packed and examined my gear. Maybe Michael’s judgment that I didn’t care or appreciate what he did held some truth, but what he could do with a computer seemed incomprehensible to me. How he explained it felt even worse, like hearing an auctioneer speak a different language.

  Some journeys aren’t worth traveling.

  Thomas at least showed a level of kindness I lacked; he paid attention to what Michael said. He even surprised us by asking questions. Michael, excited to be asked about his work, rattled off more and more answers, growing more and more complex with his responses. Eventually though, the brave knight fell to the fate of most and reached the point where Michael lost him.

  Michael saw it and said, “Let me try to explain it again.”

  Thomas quickly threw up his hand, shook his head and said, “No, don’t bother. I’ll just trust you know what you’re doing.”

  “Smart choice,” I said. Michael gave me an angry look.

  I threw Kevlar vests to each of them. Thomas threw on a jacket over his Kevlar vest and partnered his rifle with a pistol and knife. Michael, jumping back and forth between his laptop and the shelves, armed himself with just a single pistol.

  I took my time getting ready, like preforming a ritual. I clipped on my belt with all its pockets for my gear. Ok…I guess you can call it my utility belt. I hated the thought of being a walking cliché. I picked up my bull whip and cracked it twice before clipping it to my side. Then I picked up my own pistol and took the time to individually load each round. My hate for the gun did not diminish the need for it. I loaded it whispering a silent prayer with each bullet that I wouldn’t have to use it.

  I holstered the gun and picked up my mask.

  “Hello again, old friend,” I whispered.

  Once again I stared into the eyes for several seconds, tracing the outline with my fingers once more. I swallowed and slipped the mask on. The internal weight nearly crushed me.

  I picked up my duster and slipped it on over my weakened shoulders.

  “You’re going to be good to me, right?”I asked the duster as I slipped it on.

  I reached out to the shelf and picked up my black fedora. I traced my fingers softly around the brim. I grabbed my shotgun, a slightly modified weapon that slipped easily into a sling in my coat, off the rack and into the sling. Finally, I grabbed my retractable bo-staff. I wiped it down gently to calm my restless nerves.

  God help me!

  I clipped on the retractable bo-staff, turned toward the others, and saw them watching me. Thomas’ eyes showed something deep and hopefully reverent, but gave no voice to his thoughts. Michael noticed Thomas’ expression and smiled.

  Michael’s computer beeped and he dove for the keyboard. I watched him mash buttons, and as the seconds went by his eyes and smile grew larger and larger till I feared his eyes would pop out. He nodded like a bobble head. “It worked! I cannot believe it worked! I mean the odds were a bit astounding really. But it actually worked! Take that, Nebula!”

  “Where are we heading?” I asked.

  “It’s an old factory complex. He’s in one of the warehouses. I’m not sure which one, but he’s definitely at that complex!” said Michael.

  “God, bless you, Michael.”

  “But he’s got
an army in there, and it is built like a fortress. We will never get past the front gate.”

  “Looks like we are going to need help then.”

  I moved away and Thomas quickly took my place. I dug through my pockets until I took out the burn phone given to me by Lorre. I started dialing numbers as I heard Michael ask, “Who are you calling?”

  “Calling for back-up, of course.” I left it at that. He looked confused. Thomas seemed a lot more trusting, or maybe he was too scared to ask himself.

  Michael opened his mouth to question my response when Thomas beat him to the punch and said, “I know where this is, it’s near downtown. I can get us there in no time.”

  “Good, because you’re driving. But we will have to make a few stops on the way.”

  “Like what?” asked Michael.

  “Kraine and I need to have ourselves a chat.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Getting into the Mayor’s office turned out to be far easier than expected. The NPFC established a blockade at the main entrance. They lined up like Spartans in a phalanx with large ballistic shields and body armor. Each officer wielded a baton to beat back any civilian who tried to get past him.

  Plenty made the attempt.

  A small army of both Nobles and Outcasts pressed the blockade. The crowd screamed threats and curses at the hidden Mayor. The mob threw bottles and rocks and anything foul they could get their hands on. The NPFC responded by throwing tear gas into the crowd. The crowd fought aggressively to slip by the blockade. The NPFC responded by swinging their clubs without mercy. A firetruck arrived on the scene to spray the rioting protesters. Things teetered on the tipping point of someone drawing a gun and firing into the masses.

  Only a matter of time.

  The chaos provided enough distraction to allow me to slip by, even in my Shaman attire. I avoided the blockaded entrances and the rioting mobs. I lock-picked my way into a small mechanical room on the outside the building and climbed through the venting to get into the interior. Once inside, I found things were quieter; the outside fighting simply a distant rumble.

  I made my way up to Mayor Kraine’s office. It appeared the entire building was empty, except for Kraine and me. It was ironic, maybe even poetic, that in a time of crisis the building that stood to protect and govern the people lay abandoned.