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Children of the Knight

Page 40

by Michael J. Bowler


  The boy’s heart sank. Nothing. No messages. Had he been forgotten after all? If so, R. might as well kill him now, because there was nothing left to live for. He lowered his head in sorrow. He wasn’t worthy, after all.

  Ramirez shook his head, affecting a look of pity. “What did I tell you, eh? Now that you see who your real father is, will you help me?”

  Lance glared up at him. “You’re not my father, and I’ll never help you!”

  “As you wish.” Ramirez nodded.

  The young Asian hauled off and slugged Jack hard again to the face, this time to the other cheek. The boy’s head snapped over and searing pain lanced through his face and down his back. Jack nearly lost consciousness but still didn’t cry out. He gritted his bloodied teeth and fought the queasiness. Lance… have to protect Lance….

  “No!” Lance screamed, fighting and twisting against the rope binding him. More tears welled in his eyes as Jack’s head lolled to one side. His friend looked semiconscious, and Lance’s heart shattered at the sight, his breath tight in his throat.

  “Well?” Ramirez said, turning to drive his soulless gaze into Lance’s eyes.

  Lance dropped his head in shame. “What do you want me to do?”

  “No, Lance!” Jack rasped, spitting out blood in the process, shaking his head emphatically. “Don’t help him!”

  Lance locked eyes with those of his best friend. “They’ll kill you if I don’t.” And I can’t lose you!

  “I don’t care!” Jack insisted, eyes burning with determination. “The needs of the whole company, remember?”

  Ramirez eyed the exchange curiously.

  Lance shook his head in defeat. “I can’t let them hurt you any more.”

  “A wise decision, Pretty Boy,” Ramirez said with a smirk.

  “My name is Sir Lance,” the boy responded in a clear, but nonchallenging voice, fixing his blazing green eyes on Ramirez’s amused face.

  Ramirez actually laughed at that. “Oh yes, of course. He wants to be Sir Lance now, Mr. L. What do you think of that?”

  Lee just shrugged again. He left all the torture and dirty work to Ramirez. As long as the money kept rolling in, he didn’t care about this sort of thing.

  Ramirez turned back to Lance. “Very well, then, Sir Lance.” The voice oozed sarcasm. “I happen to know that something big is going down tonight. What is it?”

  That was news to Lance. He just shook his head, mystified. “I don’ know.”

  Ramirez nodded to the young Asian, who raised his fist toward Jack yet again. Jack didn’t even flinch; just mad-dogged the man and his fist.

  “I’m not lying!” Lance called out, and the movement of the fist stopped. “I haven’t been there in a couple of days. I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Ramirez gazed long and hard at him and then shrugged. “I don’t believe you.”

  He nodded again, and the young Asian prepared to strike Jack.

  “He’s telling the truth!” Jack shouted before the fist could fall, eyes glaring with contempt at Ramirez.

  Ramirez waved the Asian away. “So, the faggot speaks. Tell me, faggot, why should I believe a disgusting pervert like you?”

  Jack spit out more blood and returned his furious gaze to the man standing before him. “Because it’s true. Lance wasn’t there when Arthur made those plans, but I was.”

  Jack knew this was a gamble, but he had to take the heat off Lance. He didn’t honestly care if they killed him or not. If he died, at least he and Mark could be together. But he had to save Lance at any cost….

  “Jack!” Lance shouted out in horror, knowing exactly what his friend was doing. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Ramirez chuckled again. These boys and their loyalty to one another—so misguided, so naïve. “So, queer boy, tell me what he’s planning.”

  Jack shook his head insolently. “No fucking way. You may as well kill me.”

  “No, Jack!” screamed Lance, fighting and struggling against his bonds, terrified for his friend. “He will kill you! Please!”

  Jack just shook his head defiantly.

  Ramirez smirked. “Very well.”

  Now he nodded to the other young Asian. With lightning precision and speed, the man hauled off and pounded a sledgehammer fist right into Lance’s gut before he even knew it was coming. He doubled over as pain ripped through him, the air pumped instantly from his lungs. Gasping for breath, he mentally thanked Jack for the incessant crunches the older boy had made him do, for he was sure they’d saved him from permanent damage.

  “No!” Jack shrieked in anguish as Lance gagged and spluttered and fought to sit up straight. “Don’t hurt him, please don’t hurt him!”

  Ramirez chuckled again. This was turning out to be more fun than he’d anticipated. “I love to hear faggots beg, don’t you, Mr. L.?”

  As always, Lee maintained his deadpan expression. He didn’t answer because he knew one wasn’t expected.

  Ramirez turned back to Jack and grinned. “Well?”

  Jack knew he’d fucked up. His plan had backfired. They wouldn’t kill him if he didn’t talk, but they would kill Lance. He couldn’t let that happen. Anything but that. He detested himself for being weak, but he had to protect Lance. With Mark gone, Lance had become his everything, almost his only reason to live, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for that boy. He sighed with defeat.

  “Arthur’s got a big operation going down against a bunch of crack houses and meth labs around town.”

  Now Ramirez lost his grin and took notice. “Which ones?”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t know.” Ramirez frowned. “Really, I don’t! I was out looking for Lance when they settled on targets, and I’m not part of any team. I swear it. That’s all I know.”

  He glanced over at Lance, who stared back uncertainly, his breathing ragged and raspy.

  Ramirez paced a moment as he digested this information. “Okay, so we warn our people. What was Arthur planning to do after this operation?”

  Jack shrugged, pain from his battered midsection causing him to grimace. “I don’t know exactly, but he was gonna be at City Hall to call out the mayor on something. That’s everything I know.”

  He lowered his head in shame. He was a snitch, now, too, in addition to being the worthless faggot his father and this man had called him. Could he sink any lower?

  Ramirez nodded, exchanged a silent look with Lee, and then casually rubbed his fingers across his chin, as though contemplating something. In fact, he was. He wanted both boys looking at each other for this next statement, the most crucial one of all. He wanted them wondering what he was up to.

  “I have heard a rumor that so long as Arthur holds Excalibur he cannot be killed.” Both boys involuntarily flicked their eyes up to Ramirez and then just as quickly down to the floor. Ramirez chuckled. “I see you have too.”

  Lance looked up and fought to meet the man’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Ramirez merely laughed hollowly and nodded. “I may have use of you both later, for negotiation purposes if the plan I’m forming in my brilliant mind doesn’t quite come off. For now, your lives remain yours.”

  He nodded to the two young Asians, who quickly set about untying the ropes that bound the boys to their chairs. “Put them in the holding tank for now,” he instructed and watched as Lance and Jack, hands still bound behind their backs, were pushed and shoved from the office.

  Lee stepped forward. “You have a plan?”

  Ramirez nodded. “Have your boys ready, Mr. Lee. The best you have. I’m going to call in Santiago.”

  Mr. Lee actually smiled.

  THE holding tank turned out to be a small bathroom with a stainless steel sink and toilet, but no windows and no furniture. Their hands untied just outside the door, Lance and Jack were summarily tossed into the room like bags of garbage, and the door slammed shut behind them. A lock clicked, and receding footsteps came to their ears.

  The boys lay
sprawled on the tiled floor. Lance had landed on top of Jack, who lay pinned beneath him groaning in pain. Jack tried to make light of his discomfort by grinning through bloodied lips. “You trying to seduce me, Lance? I think it’s working.” He tried for a laugh but winced instead.

  Lance just shook his head, but inwardly breathed a huge sigh of relief that his friend did not seem to be permanently injured. He clambered cautiously off and then carefully wrapped his arms under Jack’s and gently hefted and dragged the much heavier boy toward the wall.

  “Thank God for those workout sessions,” he grunted as he heaved the battered boy upright and leaned him against the wall.

  Jack nodded and grinned. “Yep. Lance the Animal.” He tried for another laugh, but his abs and ribs shot pain straight into his brain.

  “Don’t move,” Lance instructed as he leapt up to grab some toilet paper. Wetting the paper in the tiny metal sink, he carefully and tenderly wiped the blood from Jack’s bruised and battered face. The younger boy felt like crying and screaming in rage for what had been done to his friend.

  Jack winced as he touched one cheek with the blood-soaked tissue. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault!”

  Jack gaped a moment in surprise. “You seem to want everything to be your fault,” he croaked. “Not healthy, my friend.” He groaned again as pain pierced his midsection. Man, he thought, that guy’d be killer on a football team.

  “It is my fault, Jack,” Lance went on morosely. “If I hadn’t been acting like a baby and running away, we’d be home with Arthur and not here.” Damn, he was screwing everything up! “Now R. knows about Arthur’s plans.”

  Jack grinned and mouthed silently, “Not all of them.”

  Lance’s eyes flew open with surprise, and he looked around as though expecting cameras or bugs to be evident. Jack waved him in close, and when Lance put his ear to the boy’s lips, Jack whispered something that made him actually smile. A little. It was something, after all.

  Pulling away, Lance returned to delicately wiping off Jack’s face, terrified that they really had betrayed Arthur, even if it had been unintentional.

  “We gave it away, didn’t we?” he whispered. “Arthur’s weakness.”

  Jack nodded. “I think so. I’m sorry.”

  Lance sat back and gazed at his friend. “We both blew that one. We gotta find some way to warn him.”

  Jack nodded, and both boys lapsed into a brooding silence, contemplating their future and that of the entire Round Table.

  IT WAS late afternoon, and The Hub was a hive of activity. The main teams had been sent out to set their traps and await Arthur’s signal. Six hundred knights, mostly boys, had trooped into and out of the dry riverbed, gathering up their equipment and joining up with their assigned teammates. The other four hundred or so had been instructed to rendezvous at City Hall by seven o’clock.

  Everyone was excited and anxious, knowing that this undertaking would be fraught with danger. But youth thrived on danger. Youth, especially boys, had that “thrill gene” built in and, despite the risks of this operation, despite the myriad things that could go wrong, they were up for it. They were hyped. They were ready.

  Arthur had sent them off with the directive to get into position and wait. “At my command, initiate operations. Use caution at all times, my noble knights. Tonight ye be marching into history, but I canst not lose any more of you.”

  A few had inquired about Lance, but in the bustle of preparations the question died a quiet death. It was, however, never far from Arthur’s mind, or his heart. Reyna and Chris stayed by his side as the teams formed and marched away to meet their destiny.

  Esteban and Reyna’s team was the last to depart. The remaining archers and swordsmen would travel with Arthur.

  “Everything be ready, Arthur,” Esteban said after sending the last of the teams on their way, tossing Reyna a confident grin. For her part, she grinned right back.

  Arthur nodded, eyeing Esteban appraisingly. When he’d first joined the crusade, the boy had been bald. Now his hair had grown out, accentuating his handsome good looks. But more importantly, he seemed to have grown over the past few months, not physically, but in maturity. Despite the callous joke Esteban had made at Mark’s expense, Arthur still saw enormous potential in this boy who not so many months ago had felt little hope for a future of value.

  “I thank ye, Sir Esteban, for thy knowledge and leadership on this campaign. Ye have grown much these past months, and I am deeply honored by your loyalty.”

  Esteban actually stood a moment speechless. He still wasn’t accustomed to compliments or praise, maybe never would get used to it. Was he worthy of such praise? Him, the gangster who’d never done anything good in his whole life? The dumbass that made that nasty crack about Mark? He still smarted at the memory. It had made him look shitty in Arthur’s eyes and for some reason he still didn’t quite get, that was the last thing he wanted.

  “Oh, well, uh, thanks, Arthur. It weren’t so much. I know these streets real good and—”

  Arthur held up a hand to stop him. “And ye didst not have to join us against some who were in the past thine allies. And ye have been masterful in organizing these teams. Again, I thank you.”

  Esteban just nodded, his eyes flicking up to those of Reyna. She just rolled her own eyes and laughed.

  “His ego’s big enough, Arthur,” she said with a grin, “don’t make it worse.” Then she frowned. “Any word on Lance?”

  Arthur shook his head.

  “Don’t worry, Arthur, he’ll be back and in charge,” Esteban found himself saying, not quite certain why. Maybe because I know sooner or later I’ll fuck up and ruin everything like I always do…. “That kid kicks a—I mean butt, and he’s smart, and he’s got mad talking skills and….” He trailed off, struggling for the right words. “He’s just the right one for the job, Arthur, you know?” His declaration surprised him more than anyone else, but he realized he meant every word.

  Arthur nodded. “I know, indeed.”

  Reyna gaped at Esteban and then shook her head in amazement. Just when she thought she knew him, he’d surprised her again.

  Despite his fears for Lance and Jack, Arthur smiled slightly. The boy’s words helped assuage some of his guilt over replacing Lance, even temporarily. He gazed a moment at Esteban and Reyna. These two had come such a long way in a just a short period of time, he realized.

  “Godspeed, my knights. Tonight we take a major step toward the future of your city.”

  They nodded and went off to gather their team.

  The Hub still buzzed with the remaining armor-clad boys, who clutched their weapons and adjusted each other’s chain mail or breastplates. Arthur spotted Chris struggling into his chain-mail shirt. His mind flashed back several months to Lance, struggling with his helm. He slipped Reyna’s phone from his pocket and checked the messages for the hundredth time. Nothing. Sighing, Arthur stepped over to Chris and squatted before the boy.

  “Thou shalt be at my side this night, Sir Christopher,” he said, adjusting the chain mail and slipping a helm one size too large over the boy’s small blond head. “I shalt protect thee.

  Chris smiled, but his big blue eyes begat sadness all the same. “I know that, Arthur. I just wish….”

  Arthur nodded, knowing exactly what the boy wished. “I wish they be here with us too, my boy.” He gripped the child by the shoulders and squeezed gently.

  Chris’s eyes suddenly went wide, and Arthur stood to whirl around, hoping against hope that Lance would be there.

  But it was Jenny. She stood before him wearing a light sundress, blonde hair falling loosely about her shoulders, her lovely eyes and mouth etched with concern.

  “I’m sorry, Arthur, I just had to see you.” She eyed the hustle and bustle around her, and then her gaze settled on Chris, armored up for battle. “You’re going after the drug dealers, aren’t you?”

  Arthur’s eyes opened wide with astonishment. He kn
ew he shouldn’t be, but her astuteness always amazed him. “Yes, we are.”

  Jenny felt a chill run down her spine as she looked around. My God, she thought, these are children…. Terrified, she scooped Chris into her arms and held him facing Arthur. “Arthur, it’s too big for them to handle. It’s a war out there. A real war.”

  Arthur nodded. He understood better than she gave him credit for and so did these kids of his. “These children are no strangers to war, Jenny. Or death. Both have been their upbringing. If necessary, it doth be better to die for something than live for nothing.”

  Jenny’s mouth dropped open in shock. And then she looked into Christopher’s eyes, into the eyes of a damaged, cast-off child who’d been reborn under Arthur. There was no fear in those eyes, no sense of danger. All she saw was love for Arthur and a belief in what he was doing. How old was this boy, she wondered, six or seven? And yet those eyes spoke of someone much older, someone who’d seen more of life than he should have.

  She gave the boy a kiss on one cheek and gently set him down. He instantly moved to stand beside Arthur. Chris’s blond hair had grown out from several months without a cut, and he seemed almost a miniature version of the king.

  “Arthur, I’m afraid for you, for them. I care….” But she trailed off, her feelings stuck in her mouth like taffy.

  Arthur placed both hands on her shoulders gently. “Thou didst reassure me that I do, indeed, possess the strength to lead these children. Tonight shalt be the true test. We do what doth be necessary if they are to have a future of value. Trust me, milady.”

  “Where’s Lance? Isn’t he going with you?”

  Arthur’s face drooped and sadness nearly overwhelmed him. His arms fell to his sides helplessly. “Alas, he hath not returned. Nor hath Jack. I have texted him, but he hath not replied.”

  “Oh no,” Jenny muttered, her brows furrowing with worry. “Arthur, something must have happened to him. He loves you, and he was coming back here. I know it. Oh God, Arthur, we can’t let anything happen to that boy. We can’t!” She sounded as frantic as she felt.

 

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