Cliff was also now always hungry. Granola bars and trail mix aside, he hadn’t eaten a real meal since they had left his house. He had left as a twelve-year-old, pudgy, Asian kid and now was getting leaner by the day. He had stopped complaining about it, since the Hermit would only nod every time he said something and then move on to wherever he was going to go anyway. Cliff felt like he had to remind the Hermit to eat sometimes. Even then, he didn’t eat much. He just seemed on a constant search for something. Right now, they were on the far south side of town. Everything was burned in the area, every building, every vacant car had been burned at some point in the recent past. There were no people, only bodies. Almost from the time they had left Cliff’s house, when the Hermit had saved his life, they had seen the dead by the side of the road, or inside buildings they scavenged through. It didn’t seem to faze the Hermit, and Cliff was getting numb to it as well.
It was clear they were headed toward the Army base at the south of town. They had approached from the north a couple of days back, but some kind of battle was going on and the Hermit had stayed in the shadows, only moving at night, toward the west. They skirted the base, just out of sight and were now approaching it from the foothills of the Rockies, where the Mountain was. This was a very well-known military base, set up during the cold war to protect against nuclear attack. The idea seemed almost laughable now.
As they turned a corner on this back road, they were seen by a small group of men in military attire. The Hermit stopped, as though waiting for them, and the men obliged as they came in close, clearly cautious.
“You there,” shouted out the man in front, clearly their leader, “Everyone is required to move on to the base for their own safety.”
The Hermit shook his head to indicate he would not be doing that.
“We have orders. Now you have orders.” The man continued. This was not going to go well, as Cliff had seen at other times when other men had tried to force the Hermit to do things. “Now come over here so we can identify you, and then we will look for you at the base. If you do not present yourself at the base, you will be hunted as a fugitive. Am I making myself clear?”
The Hermit shook his head again. Even from behind him, Cliff could see the tension building in his shoulders, and his feet set into a stance. One of the men stepped toward the Hermit.
“Take your hood off and the sunglasses off,” the man reached toward the Hermit’s head and the Hermit opened his hand and pushed into the air between them and the man flew back through the air about fifteen feet and landed on his back. He immediately jumped up, as all of the others stepped back a few paces.
The Hermit shook his head again.
“Tiger, get up here,” the leader yelled out, “this one has power.”
A man from the back in camo pants and a black gi top with no sleeves jogged forward. “Okay,” he started, “this can go one of two ways. You do as the nice men say, or I turn you into a bloody pulp at the side of the road.” Cliff saw a look cross the man’s face of question, which turned to confusion and then almost to a mix of fright and anger. “You! Everyone attack now!”
He rushed forward, but he had no chance, nor did any of the other men. The Hermit whirled in a dance of power and pain, and the men flew in all directions. Those that could scrambled back up and rushed again, but that was the last chance they got. Two went down immediately, as his staff pulverized their skulls. Another three were cut where they stood, the Hermit slashing the air with his staff and the men’s necks opening like they had been sliced with a knife. It went on like this for only a few moments, but it seemed forever. As Cliff watched from a few yards away, the hermit dismantled a trained group of men in brutal fashion. At the end, there was one man left, who was trying to crawl away. The Hermit let him go, a few yards down the street, the man got up and limped out a run away from them as fast as his injured legs would allow.”
Cliff ran up to go after the man, but was stopped short when the Hermit held an arm out in front of him. “You let him go!” Cliff said to the older man. “he will tell the base and they will look for us.”
The Hermit nodded his agreement and then went to rifling through the pockets of the men who had died there. He took their jewelry, some identifying items, which he placed on the outside of their clothes, but he kept the jewelry, and the badge he ripped from the man who was called “Tiger”. Cliff saw the badge closer as the Hermit was holding it up, it had a picture of a Tiger circling a fire and the words “Fine Modern Karate Academy.” I would have gone with Great Modern Karate Academy, but I guess fine was good enough for this guy. The Hermit then stood as though he had been picking daisies, stretched his back and began walking. Cliff, ever the dutiful sidekick, ran up and followed him.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Jordan and Emma had watched the squad coming up the road from the growing hole in the wall. They were almost through, thanks to the vines Emma had grown into the crevasses. Watching the men slaughtered by the disheveled man, with a young Asian kid just standing there viewing the scene, was a little disconcerting. They were about two hundred feet above the road in the outside garden, so they couldn’t hear what was said, and they certainly weren’t going to shout once they saw the way the man had torn into the squad. It was a brutal display with which they wanted nothing to do.
“Holy Shit!” Jordan exclaimed quietly, “what is going on in the world?
Emma just shrugged, her mouth agape at the raw force of the seeming homeless guy. “All the more reason to get out and as far away as we can. Let’s get back to this.”
She concentrated, as she had done for a week, on the micro-crevasses that were in the cement. They had discovered that the bars only went a little more than a foot outside the openings themselves, and gave ample hold for the vines to pull. Interestingly, it was the inclusion of the bars that had made them able to dismantle the cement in a quicker fashion. After a couple more hours, Emma could feel the vines fully encase the bars and reach the other side of the hole as well. Now, she put all her thought into growth and expansion, and the vines responded.
Emma stepped back, exhausted, to let the plants do their thing. Jordan came up behind her and let her lean on him, while he gently rubbed her shoulders. For a man in his twenties, Jordan was a very thoughtful and affectionate person, and had quite the stamina in love. Emma had found this out after their initial embrace the week before. They were now having sex two to three times a day. Jordan was just always ready it seemed. This was very different from men of her own age, though since Mark had died, she hadn’t had a lot of opportunity to test that theory.
She could feel Jordan getting excited behind her and was ready for the next physical ecstasy she was about to embark on when a loud crack split the silence, and parts of the wall tumbled out of the opening. They watched with glee as the vines tore the bars free from the wall, leaving a hole roughly two and a half feet in diameter.
Jordan did not wait, but clambered about half way through the hole. It was sort of funny to see him half in and half out of the hole where he stopped, but she suddenly became concerned.
“Are you stuck on something?” She asked nervously.
Jordan pushed his way back the way he had come, until he was all the way back in the enclosure. “No,” he said, in a defeated way. “There is about a one-foot ledge and then a cliff that drops down about two hundred feet. I thought maybe there would be some kind of ladder or stairs, I don’t know. I didn’t think it would be impossible to get down.”
Emma looked at Jordan, at his clear disappointment, and wanted to help. She knew of nothing that could so she held him close and took his mind off of it, moving quickly to unbutton his pants. She always found it amazing that women in their forties and men in their twenties had about the same level of sexual drive. At the moment, it seemed very opportune.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
“The Battle of Carson”, people were already calling this slaughter that Eric Fine’s men had visited on the United States Army sta
tioned at Ft. Carson, Colorado. Zane Meyer walked through the open field that would be forever remembered as the site of that name. He stood prouder than he ever had. His group had been instrumental as Sensei Fine’s attack on the base had escalated into all-out battle. Their ranks were now growing as a majority of the living saw their group, called “Tiger Squad”, as the only means to survival. Meyer wished it was only his squad that received the name Tiger, it was so cool. But, Sensei Fine had ordered all of the soldiers and students form his dojo who had fought on his side to use this title after the battle. Fine was the Dragon, they were his Tigers, and the villagers were villagers. Plus, there were new soldiers now. The men who turned to Fine’s side from the base were called soldiers.
Due to his experience, Fine had put Meyer over all of the military men, while Damiano had been relegated to logistics with housing and inventories and the like. While all Tigers carried the same rank, most people began to perceive Meyer as being Sensei’s right hand man. Damiano did not like this, and it made it all the better to Meyer.
Stepping inside a Quonset hut, Meyer looked at the two men guarding the Old Man, General Allan Stone. What a turn of events this was, the Old Man a captive, and Meyer a man of importance.
As Fine had ordered the General be brought to him in the “square”, really a centrally placed parking lot where Fine had set up his command tent and a stage from which to speak to the masses, Meyer nodded for the two Tigers to bring the Old Man and follow.
As they entered the square, they saw that almost all of the population was gathered, probably on Sensei’s orders. There were a couple of thousand people milling about, many eyes on Meyer as he led the former Commanding Officer of this base up on to the recently built stage. During, and shortly after, the Battle of Carson, many of the residents of the base had been killed. This had included both military and civilian. His men had not only not been discouraged from “the spoils of war”, they had almost been ordered to take what they wanted by Sensei. This included property, but also women. Some had fought, and died. Some had run, and were chased down and killed. It was thrilling to think that their original group of nearly thirty had taken down tens of thousands in the battle and its aftermath.
With his hands cuffed behind his back, the Old Man was no threat at all. But, he still had a fire in him, Meyer could see that much himself. Sensei Fine walked out of the command tent with purpose, striding his long stride across the parking lot and up the short stairs to the stage. Turning toward the audience, he spoke in a loud commanding tone.
“Before you today is General Allan Stone, the former Commanding Officer of this base,” Eric began to a stunning silence as the crowd watched on. “He has ordered your rights taken away, your liberties crushed and your lives subject to his whims. He will now confess his crimes or pay the consequences.”
Eric turned and looked at the General, who glared at him but said nothing. Eric smiled at the Old Man, as though he had just played into his hands. “Then let the inquisition begin.”
Eric nodded to him, and Meyer brought up the base Executive Officer, Brigadier General David Pryor. “Mr. Pryor,” Eric started up again, loud enough for all to hear. “You have also been found guilty of crimes against the people.” Pryor just looked around nervously. “Do you have anything to confess?”
General Pryor was a nice guy, Meyer had always liked him, but he knew what needed to be done. “Eric,” the man said in a low tone that only those on stage could hear, “why are you doing this?”
Sensei just looked at him coldly. “No? Then you are judged guilty of these crimes and sentenced to loss of sight.”
The look of horror that crossed Pryor’s face, was nothing in comparison to the look of horror in the audience when Eric reached out with a two finger eye-poke and ripped one of the man’s eyes from its socket and threw it down on the stage. It happened so quickly that it shocked even Zane Meyer, who had seen quite a lot since this whole thing started. Just as Pryor started to scream, Sensei did the exact same thing to the other eye. Markus Pryor now had no eyes.
There were screams in the crowd at the spectacle of General Pryor’s bloody, empty eye sockets while the man was screamed in place as Eric turned to look at the Old Man. “Will you confess your crimes? Or will you watch your entire Senior Staff suffer?”
The Old Man was just staring at the eyes of his Executive Officer laying on the stage at his feet where Eric had thrown them. He said nothing, his shock was complete. This was exactly the effect Sensei had planned for, and Meyer knew it.
“Tigers,” Fine called out, “Take the criminal back to his cell to consider his response. We will gather tomorrow for another sentencing, and every day until they are all punished for their crimes, or you confess yours.”
Stone just looked up at Eric with his mouth wide, but nothing coming out. Meyer motioned to the two Tigers who had brought him and they walked forward and took the Old Man away. Meyer walked up to Sensei.
“Sensei,” he said, bowing, “what would like me to do with Pryor? Should I take him to the infirmary?”
Fine turned on him with disgust on his face, “What good is a blind man to our cause? Take him to the restricted area.”
“Yes, Sensei!” Meyer replied and turned, grabbing Pryor by the arm and dragging him off the stage.
The restricted area was a metaphor, and a reality. It was restricted, but “take this person to the restricted area” meant to kill them. Meyer marched his captive across the lot and off to the area that others were not allowed. Once there, and out of sight, he quickly and quietly snapped the neck of the man. He dropped the body of General David Pryor into the mass grave on top of countless other bodies that were in a constant state of burning. As he looked out at the area, and the six other pits which had become mounds after they had been covered with dirt when they became too full. There were thousands, if not tens of thousands, of bodies out here. This was the other part of their new existence, and Meyer was just happy to be on the side of the strong.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Jenny sat in the little cave she had found, surrounded by her most recent trading trip. She was learning the way of life in this new paradigm, and was reaping the benefit of her “second sight” as she now thought of it. Sometimes she felt like it was manipulative to use it to negotiate for goods, but this was survival and she was determined to use whatever advantage she could to make it. She could tell when people were lying, when they were hiding something, when they were angry, or malicious. Reading their emotions through their auras had been truly handy in the trading aspect of her new life. That usefulness was also training her in the use of the second sight.
There wasn’t a lot of room here, but it was relatively safe. She always searched for auras before going into the bushes, behind which was the entrance to her little cave. It was dark in here, but she didn’t really mind. She had also found that she could see a type of aura in other animals, like when she had almost run into a bear, seen its fear and walked the other way, probably saving her own life.
Deciding to check her goods for the day, she began pulling the items she had traded for out of her bag. Some of it was things she needed, some of it was just good trade that she knew she could obtain more value out of another trading partner. It was mostly food items, with a few valuables thrown in for good measure. As she brushed up against a copper necklace, which most people had passed on due to its lack of intrinsic value, Jenny once again felt the thrum of some kind of energy. Having nothing but time, she reached for the first duffel bag she had brought from the hotel. Inside that bag still sat the strange, gaudy jewelry she had taken from the jewelry store that first night she had escaped her studio.
Jenny sat in a lotus position in the dirt and calmed her mind. When she felt truly centered, she reached out for the copper necklace first. The images came quickly to her – a woman putting it around her neck; a man and a younger version of the same woman pulling that necklace off a small stand at a festival; a person buying a group of the sa
me necklaces; a brown-skinned woman in a factory carving the intricate patterns into the face of the necklace. She opened her eyes. These are the images of its history! She thought to herself.
Reaching for one of the three bracelets, it was simply too much, too many jumbled images as she held it in her hands. She went to put it back down and as her hand pulled away, the images slowed. Maybe I don’t have to touch it.
She reached out again, this time she merely held her hand close to the item, hovering over the top of it and the images slowed – she could see the old couple in dim light in their jewelry store, dim light as the power had gone out; the man pulled the three bracelets out of the case and dropped them, clutching his chest; the old man fell to the floor, right where Jenny had found him in the dark, dying of an apparent heart attack. Jenny opened her eyes, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. It was as though it was her own memory of the incident, as though she had silently watched this happen and the emotion was a lot for her to bear.
She put the item back in the duffel bag, closing off her inner sight so that it would not rush her with images. She would come back to it, she would look into every item she touched at some point, but right now she needed to eat and sleep. As she dozed off, it occurred to her the benefits this new part of her sight would bring to her trading.
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