by Jeremy Mac
“No. But if Vincent was to bring everything he’s got then it could turn into a war and that scares us all. We’ve got plenty guns and ammunition but Vincent probably does too, and now that he’s captured two of our men they’re probably being tortured for information just like my uncle said, so now it’s not a matter of if he will attack, it’s a matter of when. Vincent may even try to negotiate with Stan and Jonsey’s lives, but he can’t be trusted, he is pure evil.” Taya downcast her eyes. “I can’t help but think that I would be right there with them if I hadn’t gotten away. The things they must be going through. . .” Her brow furrows and her chin trembles.
He hopes like hell she doesn’t start crying. He can do without the emotional drama. Holding her close and caressing her softly under different circumstances would be enjoyable, she is quite beautiful, but playing comforter to a sob case isn’t something he is up for right now.
14
They enter the residential area of The Pinnacle. What was once office space has now been converted into family homes, bringing the near perfect concrete and steel ecosystem to full circle.
Kids play wiffle ball in the middle of the street, running, shouting, laughing, while a dozen grown-ups from the sidelines cheer and encourage the young’uns. The rickshaw cyclist stops at Taya’s request so they can watch the game. As they watch, something unrelated catches Lathan’s eye; two young boys off to the side stick fighting, whacking their stick-swords together and taunting one another in playful mannerism.
It takes him back to another time and place long ago. A time when he was just a boy himself. A time when confusion and ignorance are pesky annoyances at the birth of pubescence.
“Never overextend your swing,” Sinsai said. “If you put too much into it and don’t keep control of your sword you will leave yourself open and off balance.”
Young Lathan rubbed his ribs where he’d been whacked with the wooden sword, the result of his overextended swing.
“Again,” Sinsai instructed.
Lathan attacked. This time, fluid and controlled; swing, block, follow through with a counter swing. Of course Sinsai blocked everything Lathan brought to him, but Lathan was learning.
“Very good,” Sinsai said.
And then Sinsai attacked, fast and fierce. He came at Lathan with an overhead downward swing followed by a right swing to the torso and then a forward thrust. All of which Lathan blocked easy enough but directly afterward Sinsai got relentless and Lathan soon became overwhelmed. In his haste to defend himself Lathan lost all control of his offense and before he knew it he found himself on the ground. Sinsai offered his hand to Lathan, helping the boy to his feet.
“Expect the unexpected. The element of surprise is a mean one, so keep it on your side and always keep your guard. The biggest mistake you can make is to underestimate your enemy. Allow him to only think he’s got the upper hand. In doing so you will cause his ego to step in the way and that will cloud any good offense he may have, and when you take that away, go in for the kill.”
Lathan slapped his hands over his gi, straightening himself out for the umpteenth time that day, clearly peeved at himself.
Sinsai took young Lathan by the shoulders, facing him directly, and said, “It doesn’t come over night. You’ve only just begun. You will be great, but it takes patience and practice.”
“But I have been at it for nearly a year and I still haven’t gotten it down.”
Sinsai smiled affectionately on his young protégé, remembering he had said, very nearly, those same words about himself long ago.
“I told you in the beginning that it will take much time. There is still so much for you to learn and even more for you to understand. A year is barely scratching the surface.”
Lathan sighed exhaustedly and said, “I just don’t understand the point in learning all of this stuff. I can see the importance in guns and hand-to-hand combat, but no one fights with swords anymore. It’s pointless.”
Sinsai raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Is that so? Is it pointless for a soldier to enter battle with a sword alongside his rifle? Perhaps the soldier runs out of ammo or the rifle becomes inoperative, what then? You can always rely on the sword. And when you’ve learned to use it well you will reach for it first, because it can be even deadlier than a bullet ever can be.”
Sinsai took a step backward, providing space between the two.
“You have the gift, Lathan, I see it in you, and you have great purpose in life. No one but you can bring that purpose to fruition. But you must train and train hard the mind, body, and spirit, so when the time comes, you will be ready.”
Lathan gave his respects in a bow.
One boy holds an aggressive attack on the other boy in their stick fighting, causing the less aggressive boy to step backward until he trips over his own feet and falls to the ground. Taking advantage of the boys fall, the aggressor turns his stick-sword upside down, grasping the handle end with both hands, and stabs down onto his victim but stopping short of actually harming him. He then stretches both arms up to the air, stick-sword held high, shouting triumphantly. After a moment of basking in victory he then smiles down on his fallen friend, says some words of encouragement, and then helps him to his feet. Once he is stable, without warning, he playfully hits his friend across the arm with his stick-sword and takes off running. His friend chases after him. Lathan watches as the two boys commence battle once again, weaving and jostling through the crowd until both veer off into the open doorway of a tall red brick building. The next building over is much bigger with gray exterior walls that nearly match the sky. Harrington International is chiseled above the doors.
Lathan leans over to Taya and asks, “Do all of these buildings have people residing in them?”
“Most of them do. There are still a few that are totally ransacked because no one’s bothered to clean them up yet. We’ve gone through just about all of them and took out and used most of what was of valuable resource. We’ll eventually get to the ones we haven’t gotten to yet. One floor at a time. It’s a big job. Believe me, I should know. I’ve had my fair share of it.”
That night, high above in the building of James Grant’s old law firm, Lathan gazes out of a window in what was once a large, lovely office. He isn’t able to actually see it for the other buildings in the way of his perspective view but he knows its exact location and so imagines it in his mind’s eye. He knows the exact floor and office, where the safe is and the combination.
Tomorrow night he will sneak out, undetected, and retrieve what he came for, and then he will leave The Pinnacle.
15
The room is a conference room, no more and no less. It is filled with a bunch of hardened, rough around all the edges, men and a few women. The high brass.
Everyone is on time.
While they wait they share villainous story’s, bragging about sex and kills (the two often sharing the same sentence), showing off new and/or improved weaponry, bartering small items, challenging one another and playing strength games. It is loud. They are normally called in for evaluation once a week, Vincent keeps a tight rein on his town and its people, and keeping continuously informed in detail of everything happening, along with his uncanny ability to strike fear at will, insures his ability to stay in power and control of his people.
But today’s meeting is special, called unexpectedly, and no one has a clue as to its nature and each person hopes it isn’t about his or herself.
The last special meeting that was called had Vincent chopping off the heads of two men right there at the conference table. The two hapless victims had found a large quantity of canned goods in one of their search and seizures of Claxton and failed to bring Vincent his due. Under Maddick law, having been written, signed, and approved under Vincent’s authority, the Commander in Chief (Vincent Maddick) is entitled to three-fourths of all food and merchandise brought into the town of Maddick. The food was reported to Vincent through whispered lips from one of his many bootlicking eyes and ea
rs and so proper action was taken. The two heads are now preserved in two large glass jars of formaldehyde displayed on a table outside the conference room doorway to consecrate the idea of what greed and lies will get you before entering the room.
“Hear ye, hear ye,” Jacko says aloud and immediately everyone shuts up. Jacko is the house speaker and secretary. He takes his responsibilities to an absurd level of seriousness, quite proud he is, and no one dares to ridicule him for it because everyone figures it is Vincent’s bidding to do so. He got his name because he looks like a Jack-o-lantern; bald head, big frightful eyes, and only a few teeth in his mouth. He has only one ear, he lost the other one in a prison knife fight long ago, and he now proudly sports the ear Vincent gave him attached to strings tied around his head. Once he has the floors attention, he continues. “The honorable Vincent Maddick of the great and proud people of Maddick is presiding.”
Behind Jacko a door to the left opens and Vincent steps into the room. He approaches the head of the table and stands. The masked man comes through the same door and stands to the side, behind Vincent.
Vincent pierces the room with an icy glare and says, “Be seated.”
Those who are privileged to sit at the table do so; generals and captains respectively first, then the lieutenants, and then those who fall in after that order. Once all space is taken at the table everyone takes a chair behind those at the table.
“You are all probably wondering why this meeting was called. You are probably wondering, ‘Who did what now?’, or, ‘What didn’t they do?’, and you may be asking yourself, ‘Is it me?’ and I ask myself, ‘Why?’. Look amongst yourselves, because. . .” Vincent scans the faces in the room with deep severity in his hawk-like gaze. And without warning he yells out, “All is well in Maddick!”
His thunderous intensity jolts everyone in their seats and they are momentarily taken aback before realizing his boisterous statement is a good one. The room then bursts into a cheer.
“Silence!” Vincent bellows, and the joy in his face is quickly replaced by a sour one.
“Do you actually believe all is well?” Vincent asks the room with such detest that many believe it’s left a retched taste in his mouth. “Hm? All is well? Everything is simply hunky dory, is that right? Not by a long shot. We eat spoiled food and rats and strays and are on the very brink of cannibalism while at the other end of the city they dine on fresh produce and poultry and swine and wash it all down with clean water. We struggle while they relish with ease, laughing it up. Laughing at you. And you are accepting of this? I have been accepting of this but I tell you now I will accept it no longer. We have two of their men who have for the most part been cooperative about what they do know and don’t know about The Pinnacle’s defenses and complexities. Of course we will first try to negotiate, allow them to see reason, allow them to understand the full extent of my kindness. But if that doesn’t work, well, we’ll just have to do it our way. So now I ask all of you, are you ready to take what’s rightfully ours?”
Murmurings of agreement pass through the room. Quite the disappointment as enthusiasm goes, and so Vincent asks them again and this time the response is much louder.
The third time the room shakes.
16
Mongoose and Max lay passed out in their hideout after a long night of gorging themselves with the food they commandeered the day before. The food was good, since it is canned and canned food is getting harder to come by these days. Food in general is hard to come by these days. There’d been plenty of times when he and Max were unable to find anything to eat and like most others they feasted on rats. Not that there is anything wrong with rat meat, you just need to cook it right. These city rats are huge too, some as big as cats. If you’re not a glutton a couple of them will get you by for a little while.
But thankfully yesterday was a rat free day and from the looks of their stash it is going to be a pretty good couple of weeks. One more notch made for team Mongoose and Max.
From Mongoose’s physical appearance alone, short and skinny, those seeing him for the first time always pass him off as no threat at all. But the mental strength he possesses can out-lift the burliest of men. He has proven just that time and time again. He is loyal only to Max and will do only what is best for the two.
The bull had gotten lucky. He was able to push Max off of him and get away, dragging his short pudgy friend along with him as Max snapped at their asses. In an excited afterthought Mongoose hollered out behind them who he and Max are and that this is their turf and don’t they forget it.
Max is the first to awaken. Mongoose is sprawled out on their pallet, mouth agape with a puddle of drool beneath his head, with Max wedged into him using his back as a pillow when the dog hears a noise. Max glances up at the window, ears perked up and beamed in. It is an unusual noise, unlike anything he is used to. With interest piqued, he creeps up to the window and what he sees strikes him as odd. He watches, curious at first, but soon the curiosity troubles him. This somehow doesn’t feel right. He goes back to Mongoose and licks his face. Mongoose mutters something and bats him away. Max puts his rear down and stares at his slumbering master with concern. He glances back at the window where the noise keeps coming from and then back at his master. Deciding that Mongoose definitely needs to get up he goes back to his face and licks some more.
“Wha’?” Mongoose says groggily, batting at the assailing tongue. “Wha’ ya wan’? Christ, Max, what?”
Mongoose sits upright, rubbing the sand out of his eyes, and Max springs to the window, glancing back and forth from Mongoose to the window with little whines escaping him.
“What’s up, Max? Huh? What is it, Boy?”
Mongoose lumbers to his feet and peeks out the window and what he sees makes his heart jump. A Maddick convoy with a huge military truck chopped up and made to look like a tank leading the way. Several more vehicles follow, all chopped and welded together for reinforcement, some with harpoons fashioned on their tops or large rifle mounts protected by steel shields. But what really has his attention is that lead truck-tank; two really messed up looking dudes are tied onto it. One is tied to a stand welded to the front grill, his arms stretched out to his sides as if crucified, one side of his head is mauled where his ear should be and at first he thinks that he is wearing only one dark sock but then he realizes it isn’t a sock at all, the skin itself is gone, exposing the raw flesh of his leg. The other poor guy is tied the same way on top of the cab of the truck, looking horribly beaten but way more intact than his friend.
Mongoose slips on his roller blades, ties on a pair of shoes to his belt, checks his weapons, and he and Max leave out the door. They go out the back way, following on the other side of the buildings undetected while peering down the alleyways. The convoy isn’t moving fast but he still needs to keep a good pace to keep up and Max stays right alongside him the whole time. When Mongoose rolls into the street, Max goes into the street. When Mongoose cuts across onto the sidewalk, Max does too. Max never lags behind, passes him up, or leaves his side. No one gives the kid and his dog much mind, everyone is used to seeing them. And although Mongoose looks out for numero uno and Max first and foremost with an intense instinct for survival sake he is well known to throw someone else a bone every once in a while.
Just before he comes to the window Mongoose reaches into his bag, pulls out a can of unlabeled food (like most canned food its contents are a mystery until opened) and prepares to toss it.
Approaching the window, Mongoose hollers out, “Hey, Mister Jacob!”
The old man, in all his long silver haired and wrinkled faced glory, like a prune with hair, peeps his head out the window and Mongoose tosses the can through, missing the old man’s head by inches.
“Bless you, son!” Mister Jacob thanks the boy and waves him on.
Mongoose believes he knows where the convoy is headed but can only guess as to why they are going there now. The Maddick’s have been trying to get inside that place ever since he can rem
ember. To his understanding it is heavily guarded with superior fire power. Assuming the two messed up guys tied to the truck are from there that will likely give the Maddick’s leverage and maybe just enough to get them a piece of the pie but it surely won’t get them the whole enchilada.
Or maybe it isn’t that at all. For all he knows they can be out for a nice noon drive on their way to the city park to enjoy a nice picnic and maybe throw the Frisbee around for a bit. Meat for the grill is already well tenderized, tied to the truck, and ready for cooking.
He stops at the corner of a four-way, watching as the truck-tank turns right going north with the rest of the vehicles following.
Welp, to The Pinnacle it is. This is going to be very interesting.
17
Since they ventured out the day before, Pan and Bruno and their new crew searched several buildings and interrogated many of Claxton’s miserable civilians (those they were able to catch because most people take off and hide when they spot a Maddick in the area) but no one seemed to know or have ever seen a kid fitting Mongoose’s description. For all they know the kid is on the other side of the city by now. It seems like they’ve covered a large chunk of the city, but realistically it hasn’t even been a small fraction of it and being afoot makes it a much harder and time consuming process. As big as the city is they can search forever and still never find the little bastard. At this very moment he can be watching them from one of those windows high above and they’d never be the wiser. And then to top off their humility, when and if they did find him they weren’t even allowed to harm a hair on his miserable little head. It irked Pan and Bruno to no end to think it.
But luck happens to be on their side right now.
Chains had just caught a rail thin man and is beating the scared man down with his many chains, yelling at him. “What are you running for? Huh? Do you know the kid? Do you know the Mongoose? Tell me, damn you!”
