Before I even had time to contemplate this I heard one voice above everything. They were near enough that we could see them and no one fired on them because they were just kids and were not even armed.
Abe stepped out of the evening fog, and I felt a warm comforting feeling. “Welcome everyone!” he said. It was strange, because I really did feel welcome. “Why do you come to fight us? What was it we have ever done that would bring you here with weapons?” I looked around and saw the blood and I felt ashamed.
Abe looked with eyes of tenderness, “You are all friends, not enemies. Why should we fight further? It was not a battle you could win anyway. The powers that lay in this school far outweigh anything your military could bring to bear.” I knew what he was saying was true.
Then as he saw me, he said, “I see you even have some with you who have been among us. You can ask them, they did not suffer at our hands. Indeed, we gave them our own food and trained them with the best instruction. We treated them like family. Why should we fight now?”
Why were we fighting now? Abe was the one leader who always made sense. He was right. Abe continued, “Put down your weapons and come with me. Let’s go inside and rest. Let’s eat and talk. Then we can see how we might work together against any misunderstanding.”
Our men put down their weapons, for what else could they do? I looked at Brock and he looked at me and I could see he had given up the fight. He believed Abe too. Who wouldn’t? Abe was the wisest of us.
Abe led the way and all of us, soldiers, kids, and even a few animals, followed him to the entrance of their place. I could feel it heating up again outside as we walked through the opening passageway, and into the main cafeteria where we had eaten many times before. Abe said, “There is food here and rest for everyone. Tend to your wounded and eat.”
We sat down and food was brought to us. It was good, hot food. Porridge, warm bread, steaming vegetables, all brought with friendly faces. I had almost forgotten we had missed lunch and dinner that day.
Some, who were more desperate for rest than food, lay along the walls of the cafeteria, sleeping or just taking a rest before coming to eat. Abe watched over us and we all knew the fighting was over.
More men came in and laid down their guns and there was a large bin brought out where they could put their weapons so they would not get lost or get in the way of eating.
It all felt like a big mistake. Why did this army come? Were we ever mistreated? Was there any reason why we should have even felt the need to infiltrate this place? Why couldn’t we just talk things out?
I had eaten and was getting sleepy. A group of students from the school stood around the perimeter. They were holding hands. It all seemed so natural somehow. So comfortable. I didn’t really want to fight sleep, so I closed my eyes.
Chapter 22: A bad kind of surprise
When I awoke I didn’t even open my eyes at first. I no longer felt the warmth I had earlier. I no longer felt the compassion and the peace. Instead I felt a hard coldness from a stone floor. I opened my eyes and above me was a gray ceiling. That could not be the cafeteria ceiling. The cafeteria was white and smooth and high. This ceiling was dark and gray and much lower. I stared at a damp section of the ceiling. I had seen this place before. Then I remembered that this was like the cell where Tracy and Guido were kept.
But that could only mean one thing! I had been put in their dungeon. I looked around the room. I was not alone. Brock was with me, nursing his shoulder, some blood staining his shirt. Maybe twenty men were with us. Some were still sleeping, and some were just now waking up.
“What happened?” I said.
Brock was sitting against the nearest wall, “They happened.”
“What?” I said.
“You don’t happen to know the gift that guy who did all the talking has, do you?” he said.
“Let’s see,” I said. “Something about. . .” My head was foggy and it was hard to think. “Wait, I have it now,” I said. “No, wait, I don’t.”
Brock said, “How do people normally act around that guy?”
“Well, let me think,” I said. “The first time I saw him I remember thinking how nice he was and what a natural leader. Everything he said made me feel so comfortable and made so much sense. He’s just the kind of guy people want to follow.”
“Yes,” said Brock.
“Wait a minute, Brock,” I said. “I remember now, his gift is kind of like mine. Guido was the first of us to recognize it.”
“Messes with your head,” said Guido from next to me. He touched my shoulder and I could locate him now. “I can’t believe even I fell for it.”
“Yeah, I thought so,” said Brock.
But why did we fall asleep?” I asked.
“Mixed Arts,” said Guido.
“What’s Mixed Arts,” said Brock.
“But how could they. . .” I said.
Guido broke in, “Remember how Mixed Arts kids can pool their gifts together and make it a lot stronger? Notice how everyone got tired at the same time?”
“That was a gift?” I said.
“Did you notice anyone holding hands?” said Guido.
“That’s right!” I said. “I did, but didn’t think anything of it.”
“Kind of weird,” said Brock. “A bunch of kids holding hands.”
“Yeah,” said Guido, “but that’s how they increase their power. Skin contact, remember? But why didn’t we think it was weird at the time?”
“Because Abe was in the room,” I said. “It all seemed like the most sensible thing in the world. Just like anything Abe says or does.”
“If we had had time to debrief,” said Brock “we could have learned some of this from you before we encountered them.”
“Too late now,” I said.
“Yes,” said Brock, “too late.”
I looked around the room at the other soldiers. Most of them were just sitting quietly with a few talking. Some, had given up hope; I could see it on their faces. But then I saw someone checking the bars in the window, against the blackness outside. Another guy by his legs was writing something on a beat up piece of paper by the light of a small bulb overhead. Han sat in the corner on the opposite wall. I walked over. “Han, I wanted to talk to you.”
“Andy, you’re awake.”
“I have a question that’s been bugging me. No, I have two questions. I saw you at the beginning of the fight. Explosions and gunfire were all over the place. I thought I was dead at least twice, but you looked totally calm. I don’t get it?”
“Andy,” he said. “When I was young I used to be afraid of death. It happens to everyone. I would lay awake at night thinking about it. Then a couple of years ago a friend of the family visited us. My dad had known him for a long time and they talked. I played in my room and my mother was in the kitchen. An hour later my dad comes into my room and he has tears in his eyes. Dad never cries, so I wondered what happened. Dad said that he had just met Jesus. I didn’t know what that meant, so Dad explained it to me. That night my whole family believed in Jesus to save us from our sins. One thing I noticed after that, I was never afraid of death again.”
I didn’t know how to think about this. I went to a Christian school, but I never had anything happen to me like what he was talking about.
“Is that something you want too?” asked Han.
“I. . .I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll think about it.” I got up and walked back to where Brock and Tracy were sitting on the floor. I sat down.
Everyone was pretty quiet. It gave me time to think. Some of the most religious people at our school didn’t look all that happy. And some of them were not even nice to my friends. I didn’t want to be unhappy and mean. I didn’t want to be like them.
But then I thought of the janitor who had a hard, dirty job but he sang worship songs and always seemed happy. And Mrs. Jensen was really nice and she was really involved in her church.
I remembered my other question. Going back to the
corner I said, “Han, I forgot to ask you my other question.”
“Okay.”
“I saw one of your paper planes smashing one of those spider robots. How could paper do that?”
He looked up and smiled, “Magic.”
“No, really,” I said.
“It’s just a part of my gift. Paper tears easily because it is thin. Imagine if the paper could hit something perfectly straight on. It would be as thick as a block of wood. In your case, I used that plane like a hammer.”
“So, could you break us out of here?” I asked.
“Not that way. Anyway, I’m out of paper.”
“What about him?” I asked.
Han noticed where I was pointing. The guy writing on the messed up paper kept on scribbling. We walked over to him. “What are you writing?” I asked.
“It’s a letter I was going to send my family, but I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to send it,” he said.
“Would you mind giving it to us if it could possibly help us break out of here?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said. “Don’t know how much good it will do, but here you go.” He handed it to me and I gave it to Han.
Han took off his glasses first and cleaned them on his shirt. Then he unfolded the paper, straightened it out on the floor and began to fold it. The soldier and I watched. “Origami,” he said. “I used to be able to do a paper crane once.”
Han just kept folding. He did this quietly, expertly. He was creasing, and then folding. Sometimes he would unfold something and then fold it again to make it do something different. This went on for a few minutes; what he was making looked very complex. When he was done he had a perfect origami man.
“If I spent more time,” he said, “I could make him more realistic, but this will have to do.”
He set the man down and then breathed on it. The man stood up taller and then stretched as though awaking from a nap. “They all do that,” said Han. “I don’t know why.”
The soldier looked shocked, “Captain,” he said. “You’ve got to see this!”
Brock came over. Han whispered something to the paper man I didn’t quite hear. I did hear the word “hurt” though. This had me intrigued.
“Right,” said Brock. “It’s his gift. Interesting, but not useful.” He sat back down.
The paper man strolled up to the door and started climbing the wall next to it. Since the wall was made of rough-hewn bricks, it was like he was mountain climbing up a steep cliff. Once he got high enough, he jumped over to the barred window in the door, stood up and waved to us. Then he turned and jumped off, outside the door.
This whole thing was so weird to me. “He’ll be back,” said Han calmly, like he did this all the time.
We waited.
I turned back to Han, “How did you learn to do origami?”
“When I was four,” he said, “I had a grandma who would make paper cranes. This is a common custom for Japanese people.”
“So you’re Japanese?” I said.
“Korean,” he said.
“Huh? Then why did you get into origami?”
“It was cool,” he said. And that seemed to answer it for him.
“What else can you do with paper?”
“Many things,” he said. “With more imagination, more things.”
“Well the planes were helpful in the battle.”
“Yes,” said Han, “and cool.”
We heard a sound at the door and it creaked open. Han walked up to the door, picked up his little paper man and took a set of keys from him. “Good job,” said Han.
“What?” said Brock.
“We’re free!” shouted Tracy, and I heard several more of the soldiers start talking a lot louder.
“Shhh,” said Brock. “We’re not free yet. They might hear us. But great job, Han.”
“Thanks.”
Everyone carefully and quietly evacuated the cell. As soon as we all got outside, we opened other cells for more of our men. One held Hayasa, who was chained as well. When we opened it and unlocked his chains, he came at me and knocked me to the ground with such force it was good I was next to Han, who caught me.
From there we tried to be quiet, but something was bothering me. “What happened to the guards?” I asked Han quietly. “Weren’t there any guards?”
As we got everyone out and we reached the end of the hallway, I peered through the opening in the top of another door. No one there. We used the keys to open it. As soon as we did, I heard muffled sounds. Then I saw them, three men. One was hog-tied and on the floor, one tied to a chair, and a third was tied to the bars of a holding cell. The guy in the chair had a bloody nose and as soon as he saw us he looked scared, but when he saw our paper man, he tried to scream in terror. The gag made that impossible. Han patted the head of his paper man, “Good boy.”
“He did this?” said Brock.
“Yes,” said Han.
“Note to self,” said Brock. “Don’t underestimate these kids.”
Han walked toward one of the desks and reached into the paper wastebasket and took out paper, carefully folding it and putting it in his back pocket.
“Cool trick,” said Guido to Han from somewhere nearby.
“Found them,” said one of the soldiers. He had opened a closet door and in it was a pile of military packs. Each man put one on his back.
As we passed the guards, I heard footsteps coming quickly from in front of us. A man with a square shaped head and buzz cut rushed into the room carrying a gun. He aimed it at us. The gun was huge, it looked just like. . .
“Hey, that’s mine,” said Brock.
The man smiled. “Why don’t you give it to me?” said Brock.
“Oh, I’ll give it to you,” said the man. Brock took a step back and the guy with the gun aimed and I saw a curious thing. Brock was trying not to smile. I recognized that because people had been trying not to smile around me a lot lately.
“You asked for it,” said the man, and fired. It was terribly loud. I heard “Ahhh!” as the man screamed and the ringing in my ears grew louder simultaneously. The gun was on the ground and he was holding a bloody hand. Brock quickly picked up the gun, “Shoots a bit to the right, doesn’t it? Oh, and you’d better get that sewn on as soon as possible.” Then we all followed him out of the room while the man remained behind, holding his hand. The ringing in my ears stayed with me for a long time.
We opened another door that went out into the main dungeon area. I had been here before. One of the men motioned to a way out and said, “How about this way?” This was the way that led to the dragon.
“You don’t want to go that way,” I said. “Trust me.”
“Got it,” Brock said. “Then we go this way.”
The other way was out through the school. Oh well, what else could we do? Anyway, now we were an army and not just a few kids against the whole compound.
After going down the first corridor, Brock said, “Which way?”
“We’ll just have to take our chances,” I said.
I looked at Han. He whispered something to the paper man. They both smiled. I didn’t even know paper could smile!
When we got outside the next door we heard some talking. Han pointed and the little guy stepped boldly out.
It was amazing! First, one of two boys said, “What’s that?” Then I saw the little guy jump in the air and do some Korean Jiu Jitsu or something and knock the spit out of this guy. I mean I actually saw spit fly from his mouth as he hit the ground. Then the next boy said, “Whoa, I’m gonna get you.” He came at the little guy, but when he tried to step on him the little one was too fast. As the boy stomped, the little paper man climbed quick as a whip up his leg and did some kind of over the back flip. He grabbed one of the kid’s ears and pulled. The boy hit the ground grabbing his ear. Then the little guy grabbed the boy’s shirt, ripped it off with one yank, and tied him up right in front of us. It must have lasted no more than ten seconds.
“Pretty good
,” said Brock. “That was Gendai Jujutsu. Overall, I’d have to rate him a nine out of ten. Good form though.”
I had no idea what Brock was talking about. We were already on our way. “What is our goal?” I said. “What are we trying to do?”
“First,” said Brock, holding up one finger, “find our way out of this place. Second,” he held up a second finger, “report their plans to our base. You do know their plans, don’t you?”
“Not specifics,” I said. “They never told us much except that they had plans, and they are enemies of the United States. Maybe they were suspicious of us.” A feeling of failure crept over me.
“Okay,” said Brock. “In that case, we have a new goal,” said Brock. “One, find out their plans. If we can find specific plans written out, that would be best. Two, find our way out of here. I prefer alive.”
“I like that last idea,” I heard Guido say from somewhere behind me. “Especially the alive part.”
“Do you have any idea where plans might be hidden?” said Brock. “Maybe a set of offices somewhere?”
“I never saw anything like that,” I said. “How about you, Han?”
“Not me,” said Han.
“Not me,” said Guido.
“Where’s Tracy,” I yelled.
“Back here,” I heard her yell from the behind the men.
She stepped forward. “Have you seen any offices?” I asked.
“No, but I think I know where they are,” she said. “The boy that was training me said he worked in an office cleaning up at night. When he left to go to his job, he would walk down the corridor on the back side of the compound. I know, because I followed him once.”
“Can you get us there?” asked Brock.
“Yes, once I know where we are,” she said. “We need to get upstairs into the main school though.”
“Great,” I said. “So much for a quiet getaway. Students will be everywhere!”
“It is night though,” said Guido, “and we have paper ninja here.”
“And Hayasa,” said Tracy.
“Oh yeah,” said Brock. “And this!” He pulled out his gun again that looked like it weighed as much as me. “But I won’t use it on anyone unless they fire first.” Then he pretended to open an invisible door, “Tracy, lead the way.”
The Gifted Page 11
