Confronting the Fallen

by J. J. Thompson

  “I'm not sure, actually,” Chris answered. “Could you direct me please?”

  After getting directions from the librarian, Chris waved and headed for his meeting. It only took a few minutes to reach the judge's office. The oaken door had a plaque that read 'Judge Hawkes' and, after hesitating a moment, Chris rapped lightly.

  The door opened almost instantly and Chris found himself staring up at Martin, who grinned at him.

  “Good morning again, Mr. Wright,” Martin said. “Please come in.”

  “Hi Martin,” Chris responded and walked into the office. He stood waiting while Martin and the judge, who was sitting behind a massive pine desk, continued their conversation.

  “I understand your concern, your honor,” Martin was saying to the judge. “But we simply don't have the resources to protect someone in Tibet. If they aren't willing to be transported to Luxembourg, then there isn't anything we can do.”

  “That is not acceptable, Martin. Find a way. Persuade her or guard her, at least until she comes around.” Martin opened his mouth to speak but the judge cut him off. “That will be all. Thank you, Martin.”

  Martin hesitated, then nodded. “Yes judge. I'll let you know how things progress.” And then he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Judge Hawkes sighed loudly and slumped back into his chair. Chris stood by the door and waited, not knowing if he should sit in one of the chairs in front of the judge's desk or wait to be invited.

  After a long moment, the judge looked up and smiled at Chris. He waved toward one of the chairs. “Please, have a seat, Christopher,” he said, sounding a bit tired. “and how are you today? Did you sleep well?” he asked once Chris was seated.

  “Yes sir, thanks.”

  “Good. Good.” The judge glanced down at his desk. Chris saw that he was looking at his cellphone again.

  “You sure do get a lot of use from that phone, sir,” Chris said rather daringly.

  Judge Hawkes looked at him in surprise then looked back at the phone and laughed. His gloomy mood seemed to evaporate. “Yes, I certainly do. One of my staff actually modified the cell for me.” The judge tapped it a few times. “I think I'd be lost without it.” The man put the phone back on the desk, folded his hands and sat back. “But let's get back to the business at hand, Christopher.” He stared intently at Chris. “We have a lot to talk about, don't we?”

  Chris sat up attentively. “Yes sir, I guess we do.”

  “I'm sure you have a thousand questions, young man. We have a very limited amount of time though, I'm sorry to say, so I hope you will ask the ones that are most important to you first.” The judge smiled slightly. “As you may have guessed, I have a lot on my plate and never enough time for everything.” He sat up briskly. “But before I satisfy your curiosity, I'd like you to satisfy mine, if you would. Would you tell me how you got to Ottawa?”

  Chris watched as the judge folded his hands together on the desk and gave him his full attention. Chris had been ready to ask the man a bunch of questions and now had to stop and go back in his mind over the last few days. He took a deep breath.

  “Okay sir,” he said. “It was a pretty crazy day, for sure.” He thought it through again. “Well, you were right about Talon. They were everywhere. The bus station, the train station, the airport. Actually they almost fooled me at the airport.” He went on to describe his frantic attempts to escape the city and finally his dilemma, his feeling of panic. And then, the moment of revelation. “It just came to me, sir...grab a cab!”

  The judge smiled and nodded but didn't comment.

  “So that's what I did,” Chris continued. “It took hours to find a driver willing to take me to Ottawa, but I finally found a guy to do it.” He sighed. “The cabbie wanted a lot of money up front, but he brought me. It was early afternoon when we got into town and I was afraid that Talon might trace me somehow or that they had followed me, so I got him to drop me at a bus transit station, and managed to get a bus downtown.” He looked at the judge. “I got lost a few times but finally saw the Peace Tower in the distance and kept it in sight. And you saw the rest. I just ran as fast as I could and made it in time.”

  “You did indeed, Christopher. A very resourceful feat. Well done!” The judge sat back and fixed Chris with an intense look. “Now then, before I tell you more about our operation here, did you have any burning questions you wanted answered?”

  “Yes sir, I did.” Chris hesitated a moment then said quickly, “Before you left me in that house, you said my parents were murdered. I want to know what you meant.” Then he sat quietly and waited for the judge to speak, almost holding his breath.

  “I thought you might, Christopher. And no, I did not say what I said to talk you into taking up the challenge of coming to meet me in Ottawa.”

  Chris was startled. It had not occurred to him that the judge might have been using head games to convince him to follow him out of town. But he just sat still and waited for the judge to continue.

  “First, I wanted you to know that I spoke with your father a few years ago,” the judge began. He nodded as Chris sat up in surprise. “Yes. My interest in ancient religions, which is something of a family passion, led me to consult with your father via email and once over the telephone. He was, as I'm sure you know, one of the preeminent experts in this field. And, as such, he was able to answer several questions for me.” The judge smiled gently at Chris. “He was very gracious with his time, considering his busy schedule. He cleared up some concerns that I had and I will always be grateful for that. When I heard about his death, I was more than saddened. A man like that, in his prime and with such an intellect...well, the loss was tremendous, both to those in his field and, of course, to you and your mother personally.”

  The judge glanced down at some papers on his desk and then back at Chris. “And then to hear that your mother had passed away a few days later? Well, call me suspicious if you like, but that did not sit well with me, Christopher. Not at all. So, I made a few inquiries, had some people I know do some digging. And my conclusion was that these were not accidents at all.”

  Chris spoke up. “But I don't understand. Why would anyone want to kill my parents? Two people who were basically teachers? What reason would anyone have?” His heart was pounding suddenly and he could feel his face getting flushed. Just talking about it brought all the old feelings of loss and anger flooding back.

  The judge hesitated. “I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Christopher. Because their deaths were the fault of those who killed them, no one elses. But, we believe, they were killed because of you.”

  “Because of me?” Chris stared at the man. “Me? I'm to blame? I'm responsible?”

  “No, Christopher!” The judge spoke vehemently. “As I said, you had nothing to do with it. You were a child. But forces out there learned of your...potential, shall we say, and took steps to get you alone and vulnerable.” He was silent for a moment and then his voice warmed as he continued. “But you rose above all that! You survived and learned and adapted. Something I'm sure that they were not counting on.”

  Chris thought for a moment. “Yeah, I survived, I guess,” he said thoughtfully. “But that's about it. And I may have learned, but what I learned,” he looked pointedly at the judge, “was not to trust anyone. Everyone wants something from you. Everyone has their own plots and schemes. Everyone...is a potential enemy. That's what I've learned, your honor. And I doubt if my parents would even know me now, compared to the innocent kid I used to be.”

  Judge Hawkes looked at Chris compassionately. “Yes, you are a different person, Christopher. I won't argue with that. But you have survived and that, at this moment, is what matters most.” He smiled. “And I know you don't trust me yet. Trust, like respect, must be earned. And I intend to earn yours.”

  “How?” Chris asked quickly, then he flushed, realizing how rude that sounded. “Sorry, sir, that came out wrong.”

  The judge nodded. “I understand. I wi
ll earn your trust, Christopher, by telling you the exact truth, always. I will show you that I am a man of my word and I, and those who are here with me, will stand with you against your enemies. That is the way that trust is earned, young man.” He stretched a bit and then settled back into his chair. “And I will start by telling you why you are here. Although I've given a variation of this explanation many times, as have some of my senior staff, it never gets any easier, so I have found that the best way to explain the situation is to simply come right out and say it.” He stared intensely at Chris. “There's a war coming, Christopher. And we need you on our side when it arrives.”

  Chris was speechless for a moment and then, confused, said “A war, sir?” The judge nodded but did not repeat himself. “But what does a war have to do with me?” Chris asked.

  “It has everything to do with you, Christopher. Well, you and the other young people living under this roof.” The man hesitated and then smiled. “I'm sure your father, a religious scholar, mentioned the prophecies from many religions, the predictions of a coming apocalypse?”

  Chris nodded, even more confused. “Yes sir, he talked about it several times. He seemed amused by them mostly.”

  “Yes, of course. I suppose most logical-minded people would be.” The judge sat quietly for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts. “Every generation, since before the time of Christ, has had people living in it who believed that this time, in their time, the apocalypse would occur. They believed it was the end times. And significant dates, such as the turn of a century or of a millennium, have brought out even more fervor in some of these so-called prophets. Naturally they have all been wrong.”

  “Why naturally, sir?” Chris asked.

  “Because they were using the wrong reference point, Christopher. Our calender is fairly arbitrary and I doubt that the universe is bound to follow it.” He smiled at Chris as he said this. “But the true reference was there for everyone to see all along.” At Chris' look of confusion, the judge pointed upward. “The stars, young man. The universe itself is telling us what the future may hold. It isn't destiny, per se, but it is a warning for those who know how and where to look for it.”

  “And the universe is warning of an end to the world?” Chris asked skeptically.

  “In a way, Christopher, in a way. You see, my ancestor, the Hawkes that built this house, did so after being presented with evidence that he believed heralded the possible apocalypse. He wanted solitude to do his research, away from the distractions of London and away from prying eyes. And so he came here. He built this house and spent the rest of his life researching, studying, traveling, trying to confirm or disprove this horrible prophecy.” The judge stood up, walked to the large window behind his desk and stared out at the forest in the distance. “Each of my forebears has continued this research. And now it falls to me to face the coming storm.” He turned and looked intently at Chris. “I'm hoping that you will join us in this.”

  Chris was struggling to make sense of the judge's words. A war? The apocalypse? He would have thought it was a joke but looking at the man's solemn expression, it was obvious that he was very serious. Chris took a deep breath.

  “Sir,” he said, trying to sound reasonable, “this is very...hard to believe. I'm just a thirteen year old kid. What good could I do?”

  “A fair question, Christopher,” the judge replied. He looked at Chris intently. “We believe that you have certain, shall we say gifts, that would be invaluable to us in the coming conflict.”

  “Gifts, sir? What gifts?”

  “Well, let's call them talents rather than gifts then.” The judge returned to his chair and sat down again. “For instance, what can you tell me about the puppy?”

  For a moment, Chris stared at the man blankly. Then he remembered. “How do you know about that?” he asked flatly.

  “Christopher, you know as well as I that there are few secrets on the street.”

  Chris sighed. “Few that money won't buy,” he said.

  “True enough,” the judge agreed. “Some of my people heard a rumor and pursued it. And someone told them the story. But stories change with the telling, so I'd like to hear your side of it, if you would.”

  Chris thought back for a moment. “Yeah, the puppy.” he said quietly. “Well, I guess it was about a year ago. I was downtown, just walking, trying to decide if I wanted to go to the library or the movies, when I passed this old guy.” He glanced at the judge. “The old man was kneeling on the sidewalk. I know most of the older street guys; mostly they're harmless so I like hanging around with them. But I'd never seen this guy before. Anyway, he was crying so hard that his whole body was shaking.” Chris' tone hardened. “And people were just passing by him. Walking around him, not even looking down to see if he was okay.”

  As Chris hesitated, the judge said quietly, “So you stopped?”

  “Yeah, of course. I mean, I just wanted to see if he was all right, you know? And that's when I saw the puppy.” Chris felt a stab of pain at the memory. “It must have been maybe three months old or so, just a mutt. There wasn't any blood that I could see, but it's head was all flat on one side. “ He looked at the judge again, who just nodded encouragement. “I figured the little guy had run off into traffic and got hit by a bumper or something. That small, it wouldn't have taken much. And now it was dead and the old guy was just hugging it to his chest, crying like I've never seen anyone cry before. It's like he'd never seen anything die before. But old like that, you'd think he would have seen a lot of death, especially living on the streets. Wouldn't you?” he asked the judge.

  “Yes, I would assume so,” the man said quietly.

  Chris pressed on, caught up now in the memory. “No one else saw him, no one else cared, so I had to do something. So I just, just reached down and touched the puppy's little head.” For a moment, Chris stopped speaking as he cleared his throat and swallowed hard at the memory. “I was gonna say I'm sorry, or are you okay but then, the puppy just...wiggled.” He looked at the judge with wide eyes. “It give a bit of a yelp and squirmed out of the guy's arms. Its head looked normal again. Then it ran around, barking and wagging that silly little stub of a tail. I couldn't believe it! And the old guy was just stunned. He stopped crying and stared and stared at that dog. Then he yelled and grabbed me in a huge hug and thanked me like crazy.” He shook his head in disbelief, still staring at the judge. The man nodded, his expression gentle and understanding.

  “And what did you do then?” Judge Hawkes asked.

  “I just got the heck out of there. People were starting to stop and stare and I didn't want to attract any attention. I never saw that guy again, but I guess the story got around somehow.”

  “I assume that is also when Talon found you again, Christopher,” the judge said.

  “Found me again?” He looked at the judge blankly.

  “Yes. When you ran away after your parent's deaths, they lost track of you. Your instincts were perfect. Thanks goodness you ran.” At Chris' look, the judge said “Who do you think killed your parents?”

  Chris gasped. “Talon?”

  The judge nodded and Chris felt a wave of anger wash over him. But then the judge spoke again.

  “And so, I assume that Talon heard the story of the puppy.”

  Chris set aside his anger for the moment. It wasn't easy. “Yeah, maybe. They approached me a few months later.”

  “And what about the birds?” the judge asked, watching Chris intently.

  Chris was startled again. “Wow, you guys sure do your homework, don't you? Yeah, the birds.” He waited a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Stupid birds,” he muttered, then he looked at the judge again. “I think it wasn't long after the thing with the puppy that they began to follow me.”

  “The birds?” the judge asked as Chris hesitated.

  “Yeah, the birds. Doves, seagulls, pigeons; it was ridiculous really. It became a joke on the street. 'Chris the Bird Boy' some of them started calling me. Anytime I'd stop for
a few minutes, some bird would end up landing at my feet, or on my shoulder.” He gave a snort of self-mockery. “I definitely looked like a weirdo after that.” Chris thought about it for a moment. “Funny thing though; it was never any of the black ones, you know; crows, ravens, birds like that. Pretty strange, right?”

  The judge shrugged. “I wouldn't say that, Christopher. Many people would envy someone that could attract wild animals like that. They would consider it a gift.”

  Chris laughed shortly. “Yeah, some gift. Do you know how hard it is to hide from somebody who's after you with a flock of birds cooing and chirping around you? It's impossible. I know because it happened a few times. Stupid birds,” he muttered again.

  The judge looked amused but didn't laugh. “Yes, I see how that could be inconvenient, even dangerous.” He stretched a bit again and sat back in his chair. “Thank you for telling me these things, Christopher. I appreciate your candor. As I said earlier, we believe these talents of yours could help us in the struggle ahead. You have a way with animals. Believe me, that could be very useful.” Chris couldn't see how but he didn't interrupt. “And, even more importantly, you have the gift of healing.”

  “Healing?” Chris was startled. “Is that what that was, with the puppy?” The judge nodded solemnly. “Huh. Healing. I just thought it was...well, I'm not sure what I thought. A fluke maybe, or a coincidence. Well, until the same thing happened with one of those damned birds.”

  “Coincidence is not a concept I believe in, Christopher. Your touch somehow channeled living energy into that puppy and healed it. At least, that is my belief.” He cocked his head to the side. “You healed a bird as well?”

  “A couple, actually. Stupid things keep flying into buildings.” He rolled his eyes and the judge looked amused.

  “So you see? You have the gift, young man.”

  Chris was shaking his head. “That isn't possible, sir. I mean, sure, in stories maybe. But how could someone actually do that? Heal something with a touch? And what about...what I did to those guys in the diner? That sure wasn't healing; I practically killed them.” He stopped and thought deeply for a moment. “And how did I know that I could do that?” he said to himself.