A Warrior's Journey

by Guy Stanton III

  She reached into it and pulled out the heavy pistol, “Mr. Kingsley I’m really trying to help you here, but you know that it’s illegal to have one of these. I believe a first offence comes in the form of an extremely exorbitant fine, which if you don’t pay you go to jail for six months.”

  The knife had disappeared to somewhere, as she held her hand palm up in expectation of payment.

  Mr. Kingsley reached for the paper money in the drawer, but she raised the barrel of the gun upwards to his head, “I had something else in mind Mr. Kingsley.”

  He swallowed and dropped the paper money back into the drawer and reached into his pants pocket and brought out the heavy little sack of gold that was there. He dropped it into her outstretched palm and her eyebrows lifted expressively at the weight of the sack.

  “Well Mr. Kingsley at least it can’t be said that you sold your loyalty to your country cheaply.” She molded the pouch’s contents out slightly and then slipped it down her dress between her breasts, which once situated bulged out more expressively than before, but Mr. Kingsley was far from being interested in the development of the moment in any amorous way.

  Evette tossed the gun into the far reaches of the shop and then deftly picked up the cash money in the drawer. Holding it up she said, “Evidence. You have a nice day now Mr. Kingsley.”

  She walked away then her heels clicking on the floor. Mr. Kingsley clutched his bloody hand to his chest in relief to see her leaving and to still be alive and not having been taken downtown.

  Evette sauntered out to the three cars pulled up outside the store. She held out the paper money to an assistant.

  A tall man with sharp features stepped forward, “Find out anything?”

  “Yes, they were here. They definitely appear to be human, if not a bit on the superhuman side of the spectrum from all description. There headed on their way toward the city. Apparently they are on a quest to find a holy book.

  Get me dispatch Angelica.”

  Evette stood beside the car waiting for dispatch to get back with her, when three rapidly spaced shots rang out behind her. She turned to see the tall man step out of the store and walk back toward the cars.

  “Do you really think that was necessary Robert?” Evette asked pointedly.

  Robert sneered at her, “You getting soft or something Evette?”

  “No not soft just practical. I don’t think the Committee really needed another dead shop owner to add to its bloody record.”

  Evette climbed the stairs up to her flat. Her steps were slow as she was tired from the day’s events. They had launched a massive manhunt for the strangers focused on San Francisco and its surroundings.

  So far they had only been able to gather a few eyewitness reports of a poorly driven van matching the description of the shop owners, but they hadn’t found the van yet or its eight occupants. One woman’s account of the occupants of the van had been that she thought she was in ancient times as eight Greek gods drove by her. Somehow Evette doubted that, but the report did echo what the shop owner had said that the men had seemed to be extremely robust in physical form, with long hair to boot.

  She didn’t care! She just hoped they were caught soon and were out of her hair. She reached to unlock her door only to find the door already ajar. Her tiredness vanished as she tensed and prepared to spring into action or away from danger as she pushed the door open.

  What she saw made her huff in disgust and storm angrily into her apartment slamming the door shut behind her. The form of an attractive, but barely clad woman lay sprawled on the floor not ten feet from the door. As Evette stormed by her enroute for the kitchen she noticed that the unconscious woman was drooling all over the tiles that she lay on, which only heightened her disgust. Reaching the kitchen she grabbed a pitcher and filled it with water and then stopped.

  She dumped the water back out and went to the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of ice water that she kept there. Storming back toward the door she dumped the entire pitcher on top of the woman’s head and bare back.

  The figure on the floor sat up sputtering and choking. Seeing Evette standing there with the empty pitcher she asked heatedly, “What did you do that for?”

  “Missy it’s none of my business if you want to continue killing yourself out in the city with losers and then come back to sleep your drunken stupor off only to do it all over again the next day, but I will not have you sprawled on the middle of my floor like the drunken whore that you are! And I certainly will not tolerate you ever leaving my door unlocked again! Do I make myself clear?”

  Missy got to her feet unsteadily and asked, “What happened to you today? Did you kill someone again today?”

  Something must have shown on Evette’s face, “I see! I may be a drunken whore Evette, but you’re in a class all by yourself precious!”

  Before Missy could continue she found herself flat on her back with all the air knocked out of her. Looking up she saw Evette poised above her with a murderous expression.

  Missy licked her lips a little out of nervousness. Maybe she had pushed her benefactor a little too far.

  “Missy I’m on the verge of throwing you out! Is that what you want?”

  Missy shook her head no.

  “This is the way it’s going to be Missy. You are not staying the night here! You can go find a bed somewhere else tonight! When I come home tomorrow I expect to see this mess cleaned up and your room in order!”

  Evette walked to the door and jerked it open. Missy got back up and moved to the door and stopped briefly before going through.

  She turned to Evette, “Your getting harder inside Evette. You better watch it or you’ll end up like the creeps you work with, to wired out to enjoy anything in life that isn’t sickly twisted in some way. Why don’t you let me help you to relax some and actually fulfill the purpose of what you hired me to play act out for you. If you don’t want a woman’s touch then why not hire a man to work the kinks out of your tail a few nights a week. I can suggest some guys to you. Maybe we could even team up on you. It would be fun. What do you say?”

  Evette’s blue eyes were stormy as the ocean during a gail force hurricane, “I do not appreciate any of your salacious advice Missy! Goodnight!”

  Missy turned towards the door, but then turned back somewhat sheepishly, “I need some money. That was our agreement…….”

  Before she had finished asking for money several bills were rammed down the front of her halter top. Evette then pushed Missy out into the hall and slammed the door hard, locking it as she did so. Missy stared at the door for a moment before turning away heading for the night life of the city.

  Evette still stood with her back against the door wondering for the millionth time whether it had been a mistake to take Missy in and make the agreement that she had with her.

  In return for a place to stay and the money to live her free loving lifestyle, Missy had agreed to play the part of her female lover in the public’s eye.

  Working where Evette did and living in this city one had to appear a deviant of some kind or one became a target of everyone else that was. Missy gave her the cover that she needed to keep her above notice as being any different from those she lived among.

  It also gave her a reason to help keep the men at bay too. She hated men and everything they stood for, the filthy animals that they were!

  She scarcely cared anymore for her own sex as they could be just as bad, which Missy was a prime example of. She came to the same conclusion that she always did though. Missy would stay.

  It wasn’t because of the cover she gave her entirely, but rather it was because of the fact that she and Missy had managed to survive growing up together in the slums as teens. They had a bond of sorts because of it.

  Old memories came back to her and she groaned from the weight of them on her consciousness. She would get no sleep again tonight. Her chest hurt, which reminded her of what she had stashed there earlier in the day.

  In relief she pulled t
he sack out and walked over to a table. She dumped the contents of the sack out onto the table and gasped. The pure gold shown up from the table top like a temptation not to be resisted.

  It was a lot of money and she knew just what she was going to do with it. She scooped up most of the gold and put it back in its sack only saving a little of it for herself. Quickly she moved to her bedroom and took off her high heels and tossed them. They hurt her feet, but they helped her create the image that she wanted in the public’s eye of herself and well she liked them for some other reason besides that.

  She stripped off the tight dress and slipped into a pair of pants and a heavy sweater. Going to a closet she pulled out a trench coat and a pair of black boots that went up to her knees. Within minutes she was back down on the dark city streets walking threw a light drizzle towards the slum part of the city.

  We made our way around the city in search of the churches that might still have the Holy Scriptures of the Creator. We found several churches.

  One church with a dome on top of it was dedicated to a different god than the one we served. Another church had been renovated into rooms for people to stay in. We found one that was vacant and had the roof mostly fallen in and was covered in graffiti. And then we found a big one.

  It was huge and extravagant as any Zoarinian temple. The rest of us waited outside as Larc went to go enquire inside. He returned in an hour with a dark look clouding his face.

  Orhanin asked somewhat exasperatedly, “Didn’t they have a copy of the Holy Scriptures?”

  “They did a long time ago, but they got rid of them when the edict came down to get rid of all of them.”

  “If they are a church how could they make a decision to do that?” I asked.

  Darkly Larc continued, “They have another book as important to them as the Bible in their faith that they said was given to their founder by an angel. They’ve decided to focus on it and other teachings like it instead.”

  We all looked at him in disbelief. The Creator had surely left this world if this city was anything to judge by!

  This city was full of darkness with the evidence of it walking all about us. In some ways it was like I had never left Rauel before it was burned. I saw the same depravities being committed that the Zoarinians were famous for.

  Larc broke into my reflections on the city, “This mission is going to be a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. We need to head back toward the van and rejoin with Talaric and his men. Maybe they’ve been more successful than we have.”

  We had gotten quite a few odd looks during our search, but it seemed that all we had to do was stare back meanly and they would scatter like pigeons before us. We reached the van to find nobody there.

  This wasn’t good. It was already getting dark. Talaric should have been here. We waited, each of us concealed in different side alleys near the van in case a trap was being sprung upon us.

  Hours passed by. The city was noisy at night, but not much was going on right where we were at. Occasionally someone would stumble by. The street was lit dimly by a few scattered street lights that were still in operation.

  My opinion of the city wasn’t much. It looked like it had been rather grand at one point in history, but now it was little better than a ruin of its former glory. Life in the city seemed chaotic with little to hold it all together.

  I heard a faint scraping noise followed by a rustling of clothing. Then I heard a moan. I decided to risk it and I made my way down the alley towards where the sound had emanated from.

  I was almost on the point of tripping over the figure on the ground, when I heard a moan that alerted me to the presence of a body at my feet. Kneeling down I smelled leather then a unique tobacco smell and instantly I knew who it was. It was Ronice.

  He had been one of the men to go with Talaric. Where were the rest of them?

  “Ronice can you hear me? Where are you hurt?”

  Where was he not?

  I felt blood all over him! It was a wonder how he had been able to make it here at all with this amount of blood loss.

  Weakly I heard him ask, “Zevin is that you?”

  “Yes lie still. I’ll call for the others.”

  Turning back down the alley I mimicked the whistle of a Zoza bird in distress. The call and the bird were completely foreign to this place, but the others would understand to come quick. Within seconds they were all around me, as I held Ronice’s upper body and head in my lap.

  Larc had bought some kind of light device earlier in the day and he now turned it on shielding most of it with his hand. We all sucked our breath in.

  Ronice was literally covered in blood. Larc tore his shirt open. There were three holes in Ronice made by something other than a sword or even an arrow and they had bled badly. He should be dead from the location of the wounds and likely he soon would be.

  Larc leaned forward, “Ronice can you hear me?” His eyes flickered open and he smiled a little and mumbled out something that sounded like, “Good I can die now, I’m with my brothers.”

  A well of emotion seized me at his words for that was what we all were here in this strange land, brothers united by a common cause and a need to protect our own.

  “Ronice what happened?” Larc asked.

  He seemed to gather himself, “Some men stopped us and asked us for identification. We said we didn’t have any. We said we would go home and get it for them. They pulled out some kind of a weapon. We started to walk away and they used their weapons. Like getting hit by an arrow only worse!”

  “Are the others dead?” Larc asked.

  Ronice nodded yes and then said, “Except for Talaric. I don’t know where he is. He separated from us earlier in the day.”

  Talaric had separated away from them!

  Larc was about to ask more, when Ronice reached up and grabbed the front of Larc’s shirt, “I killed them Larc! I broke their chicken necks. They weren’t real men like us!”

  On the end of his impassioned statement Ronice slumped back to the ground dead. We sat there in the alley way mourning the loss of a brother and the two who had been with him.

  “We need to get out of here!” Larc said tearing himself from the sorrow we were all feeling.

  He got up to go and the others with him, but I stayed beside Ronice. Larc looked at me and gestured to the others to go ahead down the alley.

  Larc knelt down beside me, “Your brother’s problems are not yours. I need you Zevin! More so than I ever needed your brother on this mission. The men do not think less of you and neither do I for your brother’s actions. Now come on we need to leave!”

  Still staring at Ronice’s face in the darkness I felt myself twisted up with bitter anger, “Larc some part of me wants to kill Talaric. Why did my father send him on this mission?”

  Larc laid his hand on my shoulder and didn’t even bother to address my stated desire to kill my own brother.

  “I think your father hoped that this mission would make a man out of him, despite whether or not that was a wise decision on your father’s part I still need the man that you are. Are you with me?”

  I nodded and got up and followed him out of the alley.

  Orhanin and Thanic looked nervous about something and then I saw why. Talaric was leaning against the van’s side with his arms crossed and an obstinate look on his face.

  I started for him of my own volition, but Larc hand signaled Orhanin and Thanic who intercepted me. They held me by either arm securely and there was little I could do to get away, as they were both extremely strong men.

  Larc in turn walked up to Talaric, who was giving me a sneer. Talaric started to say something, when he was thrown back against the van by a vicious backhanded slap from Larc.

  Talaric was completely surprised by it and started to say something again, when Larc backhanded him again so hard that he was knocked to the ground. Then Larc said fairly spitting his words out, “You don’t do anything or much less say anything from now on unless I say otherwise!
Understand me?”

  I saw Talaric nod and then we were moving off down the street in the semi darkness. Orhanin kept an arm around me squeezing my shoulder consolingly as he served a double purpose of keeping me away from my brother, who was on the other side of him.

  Evette moved very carefully through the gloom of the darkened city. Crime was very high in the city, which begged the question ‘what really could be considered crime anymore’ as some crimes were consensually ordained it seemed.

  The Committee didn’t even bother trying to maintain any control in the area she was headed for. It literally was a dark area, where any crime could be committed and no one would come to help. Up ahead of her in the gloom the tall dirty spire of a church stuck up above the standing rubble of the surrounding buildings.

  The outside of the church was all boarded up and the church itself was interconnected with the old tenement housing to either side of it. Very carefully she began to climb up the outside of one of the adjoining buildings.

  It was the only way to access the old church from the street. Gaining the roof of one of the connecting buildings she made her way along it and slipped through a window that had been converted into a small door.

  There was light inside from candles as there was no electricity in this part of the city. She heard a voice up ahead of her in the corridor that she was walking down. It must be story time, which the memory of brought out a rare smile that reflected something genuine. She stepped into the room where the voice was coming from just at the right moment of the story.

  “Surprise! Look whose here!”

  Twenty some young kids leaped up squealing in glee at the top of their lungs as they caught sight of her. They mobbed her in mass in search for the candy that she always brought them.

  She laughed as the little hands went everywhere in search of the candy. Hoisting a big bag out of her coat she held it aloft to the tune of, ‘Please can I have some Yevy?’ from the little eager faces that starred up at her.

  Yevy that was what they called her here. She dropped the bag and a feeding frenzy ensued. Still laughing she carefully stepped out of the way of the busy foragers and made her way to the old woman seated in the rocking chair.