Evangeline, Alone. (Book 1): Evangeline, Alone

by Styles, M. A.

  “Ok, so any questions on that?” he asked as they finished.

  “Obviously, that’s more for the still breathing people we might meet along the way?” Cara asked.

  “Well, yeah, but it could still help in some way to get you out of anything holding you like that. Enough to give you a chance of getting away at least, I would think.” He looked nervously at Mac. “This is just some starter stuff. I’d like us to eventually spar a bit with one another. Perhaps, do some live drills. Get more experience and practical use that way. But for now you could practice these moves on each other if you’d like,” he said, turning back to the group.

  “Why don’t we see what Ms. Mac would like us to know,” Joe said sarcastically from the back. “I’m sure with all of her, uh, experience-” He let the word hang in the air. “She could definitely show us something, right?” He looked at her with a fake innocence that made everyone in the room uncomfortable and annoyed.

  “If that’s what Magda would like from me,” Mac replied unfazed, almost bored. It shook the fake look of interest right off his face, replacing it with aggravation.

  Magda was leaning against the wall by the muffin table, arms crossed over her chest looking at Joe thoughtfully. Everyone else had their eyes to the ground save for Jack who stared into Mac’s face as she stood stoically, not giving anything away to Joe. A few long seconds passed, and Mike finally raised his gaze to Magda meekly when he saw her uncross her arms and stand straight.

  “Some real world applications are important, as is seeing the moves in real time action. If the two of you have no problem demonstrating a- well, what is it? A sparring match?” she asked Mike, who gave her a nod. “I see no wrong in it as long as you two are comfortable doing so.” She left that to linger in the air, and though Mac had no problem, she could tell Mike was uneasy about it. For the majority of the group, they were pretty obviously not comfortable with it. But he and Mac looked at one another, and agreed to go ahead.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what kind of training you have,” Mike said apologetically, but without discrimination. “Are you comfortable with only hand to hand? Would you be ok bringing it down to the floor? Like I said, Jiu-Jitsu.” He gave a bit of a forced laugh. Mac immediately flashed back to the first time she was put in a choke hold and was told to get out of it.

  “I have some experience with both. So where ever it takes us I guess.” She gave him a slight twitch of her lips indicating a friendly demeanor as best she could. “You don’t have to worry about me, ok?” She looked at him now with sincerity.

  “Okay,” he said, returning her small smile, and turned to Magda. “Okay, no problem.”

  It was as if the whole room took a collective breath. Their attention was now fully engaged in the center of the circle, but with much less tension than before. Knowing that Mac was ok with all of it made them all more at ease. Joe, on the other hand, was visibly agitated, but had a very amused and almost wicked look on his face. His body was rigid and straight, his hands flexing in and out of fists on top of his knees. Mac tried not to laugh. He reminded her of a large, slobbering dog waiting for food scraps to drop on the floor during a family dinner.

  She and Mike squared up to one another in the center of their makeshift ring, and each took a casual fighting stance: their lead foot out, and hands up at the ready. After a few seconds of slight circling around each other, Mac recognized that Mike wasn’t sure how to start. It was usually the mark of a good man, one who wasn’t fully comfortable fighting a woman, or a person who might not be ready for the fight. Especially a person he barely knew. These men were better than the others she had met. Ones who altogether would never spar with a woman because they didn’t think a woman was capable and would be offended or angered by being paired with one. Or there were the ones who took pleasure in it: copping a feel, making sure to mark her face up good… the ones who like to “teach lessons”. She knew Mike was more than willing to fight her, he just didn’t want to come out full force and hurt someone who was not at a level close to his. Again, she saw a considerate person in front of her, and decided to do him a favor.

  She suddenly shot her arm up giving his face a gentle, playful slap. He barely got his hand up before she was done, and looked at her wide eyed in shock, but smiled.

  “Come on. Okay?” She give him a firm smile.

  “Okay,” he smiled back.

  They began by throwing some easy jabs, and grabbing for the other. They were equally matched, and everyone watching seemed to enjoy the show since they were not out to hurt each other, just to practice some techniques and blow off some steam. Mike dropped one knee down a bit and swept the other at her legs, taking her down. They began to grapple on the floor a bit, and Mac got to see what Mike really knew of Jiu-Jitsu. It was a lot. She appreciated that, and began to match his level again. Mac was careful to push him towards her right side as much as possible since her left was still a little tender. They rolled around, locking their limbs, putting each other in holds that were eventually broken out of. It was all very impressive to the crowd, but not for Joe. He was a man who wanted to teach a lesson.

  He stood up from his chair so quickly it screeched backwards, and fell to the ground in a noisy crash. It echoed through the empty cement room and everyone’s heads snapped over to him.

  “Come on, beat her ass! This is bullshit, you’re barely trying!”

  Mac could almost see the froth on the corner of his lips, and she decided she’d throw him some scraps. She waiting for Mike to center himself again, and everyone shook their heads and returned their eyes back to the front.

  “Will you shut the fuck up! What is wrong with you?” Cara whispered harshly over to him, before inching her chair away from him in disgust.

  His chest heaved as he glared down at them in the center of the floor, not giving Cara any acknowledgement.

  As soon as Mike had gathered himself enough, she simply made her move. She reached up like lightning, grabbing around his neck. Then she swung her legs around him, and locked her ankles. He fell to the ground immediately. Whether he was caught off guard by her skill or her quickness, or he was simply out of practice, it wasn’t clear. She wanted to move on to the next and final show, so she masterfully applied enough pressure to show Mike this was going to be it. Within seconds his face started to turn red, and he tapped out. She quickly released him, and made sure he wouldn’t drop his head down onto the rock hard cement floor. He slid back a bit just out of center, catching his breath, and rubbing his throat. Mac looked at him, and he gave her a nod to show he was fine. He reached out his hand to shake hers. She did. Then she carefully pulled off her Benson Academy long sleeved shirt and threw it onto the table next to Magda.

  Underneath she wore a men’s sleeveless shirt, once white and now a yellowish tan from dirt and sweat. The muscle tee, fell long on her, passing the bottom of her pants zipper. The open arm holes drooped low down her sides, almost to the bottom of her ribs. The band of her bra, dingy and gray, broke up the space. You could see the yellowed and faded bruising that wrapped around to her back, and up to her shoulder. Everyone could also see what she knew Jack did the first day in the locker room. She slowly turned back around, and faced Joe. She shook out her arms and stood firmly right back in the center of the ring, and he saw it too. Right under the bottom of her bra band, curved around her side over her ribs in a simple, block font in bold black ink, no more than an inch tall, was a tattoo that read: USMC.

  “Let’s do this then,” she said with absolutely no emotion on her face. She stared down the barrel of that loaded gun, like she had had to do so many other times and places, with so many other people.

  Part of Jack hoped even from the beginning that if Joe ever saw it, it would actually make him happy. The sense of camaraderie he always implied as he constantly spoke of his tour of duty, his rank, and his service would click in and a respect would show there. Jack was wrong. It seemed to make him angrier. Like she was lying so boldly to his face n
ow, that it was even more personal than he made it before. He saw an imposter. You could almost see the exact moment any restraint he had snapped when his eyes flickered down to her side as she turned, and then back up at her face. She had barely uttered the challenge when he already started to charge at her.

  Everyone else’s back snapped straight as they realized what was about to ensue. Nate and Cara flew out of their chairs, taking two steps after him, pointlessly, because it was over before they even reached him. Gasps and shouts barely crossed their lips before it was done.

  He came at Mac with blind rage, like she knew he would. A man with at least fifty pounds on her, at least five inches, flew right for her. She anchored her feet, bent her knees in a simple stance of power, and leverage. As he swung for her, she simply dipped down under his arms, laid her shoulder up into him, and flipped him up and over like he was nothing. Nothing. That’s exactly what he was to her. His body hit back first with a hard thud to the stone ground. The heels of his boots were the last, carried by his own force and momentum. The rubber bounced his feet up a bit before they settle back on the ground. He immediately sucked in air, laying still and stunned for a moment before he began writhing back and forth to rock the pain away and know he was still alive.

  As Mac stood there, Cara and Nate slid to a stop in front of her with a look of shock and nervousness. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Charlie reach for the gun at his side. She had been here before too, and her reflexes kicked in. She immediately grabbed the gun from Charlie’s hand before he had even decided whether to raise it up yet, and she bashed her elbow into his nose causing him to drop it and reach for his face. She brought the gun up and pointed it at Charlie, her other arm instinctively had already reached across her body and pulled her Glock out. She had it aimed down at Joe who was still trying to shake the intense pain and gulp in air. Everyone was frozen.

  Jack didn’t know what to do. He didn’t think she would hurt them, but he also didn’t think any of them would attack her. But Joe did. His arm twitched on his gun side, and she immediately adjusted the gun over a few inches at his head. Charlie was still clutching his nose, blood and tears streaming down his face as he cursed behind his hands.

  “Don’t,” she warned Jack, and she calmly took a few steps towards him, and kicked his bow that laid at his feet behind her causing it to slide under the table near Magda. Jack slowly raised his hands up.

  She started to scan the room. Everyone looked terrified, though some sat with wide eyes, and the others, the fighters, with tense jaws. Laila had stood up when Mac struck Charlie, and was still as she clutched her machete with white knuckles. Then Mac saw Harrison who had one tear rolling slowly down his cheek.

  “Are you scared of me?” she asked to the crowd, looking them each in the eye. She knew they were. Not a single one answered, but she saw a few throats move as their owners swallowed hard. She let the question sit in the air, until she heard a quiet sob from Harrison, and she let Charlie’s gun drop and swing down from her finger. “Good. You should be.” She dropped the gun at Charlie’s feet. She set herself straight up again out of a defensive stance, her shoulders relaxing, and took one step backward, then paused.

  “Sorry,” she said to Charlie looking off to the side, and then turned around to walk toward the table. She grabbed her shirt and a glass, and got herself a drink from the large water cooler. Her back was to the still frozen, shocked crowd. The cup was drained in three gulps, and she let out a little laugh setting the cup back down, some ice slinking down to the bottom. “Fucking ice,” she chuckled shaking her head, and grabbed a muffin off the top of the pile. She walked to the half raised garage doors, ducked underneath them, and headed up the ramp to the grounds. They could all hear her crunching on some ice as she left.

  Laila ran right over to Charlie and took his head in her hands checking out his face, and Harrison ran to him too and wrapped his arms around his waist. Charlie gave him a reassuring pat on his back. The rest took a bit of a collective breath, their bodies slumping down from the expelled tension. Jack laid his head in his hands. Cara and Nate still stood above Joe who was now flat on his back staring up at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling, his eyes squinting against their brightness. Then a shadow passed over him blocking it, and he saw Magda standing over him, fiercely, and in every way looking down on him.

  She scoffed and said flatly, “Oorah,” and then walked away chuckling.

  CHAPTER 7

  Reality Check

  There was an extremely weathered picnic table placed against the trunk of a nearby tree, just to the side of the garage entrance, off towards the back wall. Its wood was warped and grayed from having gone through at least two winters. The tree that shadowed it was also gray, its leafless branches looking brittle and twisted. Mac took a small bite from her second muffin of the day and sat on top of the table. She wasn’t really hungry, but she had a habit of filling herself to capacity before she left a place. Your next meal was never guaranteed now. It also kept her hands and mind busy at the moment. Tomorrow was definitely the right day to leave.

  These people were not ready; for her or the people out there. But she respected the fact that they knew that, and they were attempting to correct it. She just didn’t want to be their teacher, and she definitely didn’t want to be responsible for them either. She had already taken on too much with them, but she didn’t have a choice. Not in her mind. She figured after her performance in the garage, that wouldn’t be a problem. They’d now be more than happy to see her go.

  She took another bite, and chewed it slowly as she heard the door to the parking garage being rolled all the way up. Magda walked out.

  Here we go, she thought to herself. Looks like I may be leaving today instead.

  She waited for the older woman to make her way towards her, and also weighed her options. She noticed Jack following a few yards behind her.

  “Ms. Mac,” Magda said as she closed in on the picnic table. “Can I have a word with you a moment?”

  Mac considered making things easier for her and just telling her she was going to leave today, and not to worry about her coming back. Instead, she stuck to her usual negotiation techniques: she sat there quietly, took another bite of muffin, and let Magda fill in the blanks.

  She gave her a few seconds just to be sure her silence was her answer, and then Magda proceeded, “I want to apologize for Mr. Ruiz’s behavior. Frankly… he’s a real asshole.”

  Mac choked a little on some of the crumbs when she took in a surprised breath.

  “Well, he is,” she continued. “And I’m also sorry that it escalated the way it did. I wanted to tell you that we all discussed it, and in no way find you to blame for anything that went on in there. We should know by now that though you are an intimidating force, you seem to be a just and thoughtful person. We are sorry for, in any way, making you feel like you couldn’t trust us.”

  Holy shit, Mac thought trying to keep her expression blank. That is not where I thought this was going to go.

  “Though in all honesty, Charles seems to be having a bit of a moment of grudge holding. I think we can let him have it for a little while.” She gave her a wink and a smirk. “Though he did say he accepted your apology.”

  They sat there a while. Magda had taken a seat below her on the bench, and they looked off towards what should’ve been a school. Jack had stayed inbetween the building and the tree, trying this best to look uninterested in their conversation, while also being there to lend a hand, if one was needed.

  “This is an odd building, isn’t it?” Magda asked after a moment. She looked up at the perfect square of brick and windows, lost in thought. “You know, this was supposed to be a business center. Four floors of offices for lawyers, or accountants, probably pediatricians and dermatologists, who knows. The usual. They had started a large development about two miles away, and someone bought up this property very quickly. Figured it would make some money, but there weren’t any takers for the large houses
they had plans to build. This isn’t really the most affluent of spots around here. So when the contractor stopped their construction, the builders were told to stop here too. If there was no one around to benefit from these offices, there was no money to be made. The property owner wanted out as fast as he could, and I took him up on the offer. More like he took me up on my offer. My very low offer,” she chuckled and drifted off a moment. “I had been toying with the idea of opening up a school since I had retired from teaching. I got my certifications and all, but I never really had the daring, to be honest, to go through with it. When my son and my husband passed, I realized: what did I have to lose. I saw a lot of children who weren’t given the opportunities they needed, or weren’t understood or were even feared by their teachers or guardians, because of their propensity for certain subjects. Some who occasionally did not have the aptitude for simple things or the personal skills, but excelled in the most spectacular ways in other things. Those people with these kids were not a good mix, and it did not work for either party. My son was like that. Oh my, could he create! He would compose opuses that would bring you to tears.” She stopped again, looking like she was trying to fight some back right then and there.

  “But he did not like to be with people. That’s how we figured it out,” she turned to Mac. “My husband and I were trying to help him acclimate outside of our home. It wasn’t easy. So we got him a Walkman. I believe that’s what they were called. It’s been a while. And that was what he needed, that little quiet, that focus. The music. From there it was a harmonica, a keyboard, and before you knew it he was playing any instrument you would give to him with complete proficiency as if he had studied it for years.”