Prologue

(Excerpt from Father Gregory’s  “History of the Fallen World.”)

In the late 1990’s corruption was spreading to all levels in what was then called the U.S.A. at a rapid rate. Strangely, no one seemed to realize it was going on. A holocaust of millions of unborn babies had been killed by their own mothers (with the help of 'Doctors' which at that time meant healer), corporations lied to their investors, law makers pressed their evil agenda on the common man using the money the collected in taxes for his betterment and the police took bribes to turned close their eyes to wrong doing.  In the middle of this, a young man of about 16 received a message from God. He (the young man) was to reawaken the honor that had been lost to the hearts of men, and to act as a hedge of protection for his people. He instructed the young man to resurrect the Knights. The Lord gave this, the first of the new knights, wisdom necessary to find and recreate the Code of Knighthood. Filled with holy fire, this young knight began to slowly teach and train other knights. It was not easy, for finding a person who has the honor and will of a knight has never been an easy task, it was even harder for this young man who had little funds for his fledgling order. Slowly, over about 20 years, the knighthood had grown to about 100 trained knights. Together they began a war on evil. Street gangs would be wiped out, drug lords sniped in their own strongholds, abortion doctors would disappear, a woman about to be attacked would see her attackers swept away by masked knights, a lost child would be transported back to its parents by heavily armed men that spoke of a God of love. They were everywhere and nowhere at once.

In the spring of 2023, one of the Knights on the High Council called a general meeting. Every knight was ordered to attend in full uniform. Acting as they had sworn, the knights gathered. All but two. One was a low ranking knight who had been in a car accident; the other was the Council member that had called the meeting, a knight named Knightcommander John Stoat. The Knightcommander had struck a deal with the government, and had sold out his brother knights and their families. Government forces came down on the church where the Council was being held with blinding force. Though surprised, the knights within did not dishonor themselves by panicking; they grimly fought the government forces till there was no one left to fight. All 98 knights died that day taking about 160 Special Ops. troopers with them. Not a single knight was captured, but then again, the government forces had orders to kill all of them.

The knight that had been in the wreck was hospitalized, and woke the day after the attack. He watched as the government weaved a story about how some terrorists had been cornered in a church and had been wiped out rather than surrender. They then pinned every unsolved crime that had been done in the last ten years on the knights. The remaining knight wept bitterly at the news, cursing himself for not having been there to die with his comrades. He vowed to not only rebuild the knights, but to bring down those that had wiped them out.

Over a period of another 20 years the lone knight rebuilt the fallen knighthood, overcame great obstacles that had never been breached before, and had swollen the ranks of knights to a little under 200,000. In addition to this he had built an army of Christian soldiers 500,000 strong that he led into battle with the American government. The forces of the Light were outnumbered 3 to 1 and hadn’t the weapons that their enemies carried, but in a great battle, with the help of God and his holy empowered knights, he swept the army away and took control of the government. Using the power he had seized, he corrected the wrongs he had fought with all his life. The people feared that he would set himself up as king after this; however, he was a holy man with no wish for personal power. With the evil defeated, he restored the Republic to the way it should have been and retired. His army went back to their homes, and the knights that were willing were given the task of helping the police force as an elite combat unit. On a whole, things were better in the country then ever before. They entered what was then known as the Golden Age of Christendom. This age of bliss lasted about 20 years, during this time America rose to new highs of wealth and strength. The knights guarded their cities with diligence and honor. However, they were not without challenges. Knights had risen to such power that people could be jailed simply on a knight’s word that a man was guilty, because, after all, knights don’t lie. Their opponents tried to attack this gross display of power, but upon investigation they found that there had been no cases of knights lying under oath, or for that matter, lying at all. With their plans thwarted, they tried to discredit knights by tricking them into breaking their Knightly vows. They tried to bribe knights, they sent women (or men in the cases of Lady Knights) to seduce them, and even tried to sneak some of their own men into the ranks of knights to commit crimes in the name of the knights, but to no avail. The selection process was so good at weeding out those that weren’t worthy that they never got far in their plots. It never seemed to dawn on them that the reason they couldn’t infiltrate the knight’s ranks was because the High Council of knighthood had been empowered by God with wisdom to see through their plots, and this same God gave them power to resist their enemies. Over time this utopia of Godly power had two affects, first, it increased the number of Christians, and second, it drew Christians from other parts of the world to them. In fact, within 17 years of the revolution the main number of Christians in the rest of the world were missionaries from the U.S.

No earthly force was strong enough to defeat the U.S. until 2063 when the Great Plague struck. The Great Plague wiped out 70% of the world’s population in a single year. Europe and Asia were the hardest struck. The survivors fled to America’s shores to be welcomed by the good people of the U.S. The refugees brought a terrible gift to their hosts; they brought the Plague with them. The same thing that had happened in the rest of the world was happening in America. People were dieing in the streets, but among the Christians, no one died, for their God preserved them, and from among the people, men and women of great faith came forth and with prayers more powerful then any force made by men they moved among the sick bringing healing. With in three months the Plague was ended, and the great in faith were sent out to bring healing and light to rest of the world. The people were grateful God and his people…for one month. The enemies of the faith saw their chance and they seized it. “Of course the Christians didn’t die in the Plague!” they said, “And of course they could cure it! They had caused it! They did it to gain power over those that chose to think differently then themselves! Then, they used the cure as way to convert the survivors to their cause!” And as farfetched as this sounds, the people bought it hook, line, and sinker. This began what we call “The Light Purge”. All over mobs dragged Christians from their homes and burned them at the stake in town centers. The knights were called up to defend their brothers, but the people saw this show of force simply proof of their guilt and many who hadn’t supported such terrible measures helped butcher their countrymen. A war raged for 20 years between Christians and their Jewish allies (the Jews for the most part sided with the Christians for two reasons, first, they knew the Christians had nothing to do with the Plague, and second, they decided to pay the Christians back for helping them in WWII) and the rest of the world. The Knights and their allies fought with bravery and honor, their enemies fought with chemical weapons that left the land poisoned. Slowly they lost battle after battle until they were driven back to their last remaining strong hold, a hollowed out mountain in Colorado code named Mt. Zion. It was here in 2082 that the last Knight High Council was called. The knights decided that they weren’t doing their jobs. They had been relying on the Christians for strength and protection when they should have been protecting them (It is interesting to note that the knights had been in key roles in every battle in the last 20 years, but they hadn’t taken as many loses and so felt that they were failing). The Council ruled that the un-knighted Christians should be evacuated while all the knights that chose to, would stay behind and guard their retreat. They gave the Knights the choice of leaving or staying behind for a battle that they had no chance to win. As expected, every knight volunteered to stay and fight. Therefore the Council chose 12 of the best surviving knights, divided the Christians into 12 groups, and placed one of the knights to act as it’s head. They sent them out and a week later, Mt. Zion was hit with multiple Nuclear weapons and destroyed. The remaining 12 groups spilt up to avoid the same fate, and that’s the last they ever saw of the others. And the world continued for 20 years…

 

Chapter One

            It was morning. Or at least what people called morning; they hadn’t seen the sun for so long that no one knew for sure down here in the slums. No one really minded, the darkness could be both a weapon and a cloak of protection for those who knew how to use it, and if you had lived in the slums for any amount time you learned that quickly. The reason for the darkness was the giant city plate above them. After the Light Purge, most of the land was so poisoned that the plates had been constructed so the people could survive. Now almost 70% of North America was covered by steel and concrete plates soaring 50 feet above the earth’s surface. Of course there were un-poisoned portions left, but every inch of them had been converted into heavily fortified farms to grow food for what was left of humanity. At the end of the war everyone had lived up topside, but over time as the soil became less toxic the government used the space below to dispose of waste and as ‘housing’ for less desirous members of society, mainly the criminals, the poor, the insane, or anyone that was contrary to the new order. Later it became a haven for anyone that wished to avoid the eye of Government. Thus, in a very few years the only the rich and educated lived topside. Much of the plate’s surface that had once housed people now became farmland and forests (the environmentalist had survived the Plague and after the wars had pushed for the restoration of woodlands). If you looked at America from the air, it would have looked like nothing had changed, until you realized that you weren’t looking at the earth’s surface, you were looking at a skin that was stretched over the ruined continent. The slums referred to anything on the underside of the plates. Everything was built from the wreckage of the old cities and waste from the topside. There were no change of seasons, temperature, or night and day. Every so often there would be a cluster of functioning lights attached to the bottom of a plate that would provide a little light. It was under these lights that small communities lived. The totally dark places were known as ‘The Wilderness’, only the craziest or most desperate traveled it those un-lit forsaken places were you may travel for weeks with absolutely no illumination.

            It was in this hellhole of wretchedness that Allen was born and raised, and in this heart breaking society that he woke. Allen looked around him, he was fully awake and his body tense and ready. There was no danger, but those who are not ready at all times were the people that woke up dead. Allen ran his fingers through his long dirty hair and rolled out of the nest of rags he had made for himself the night before. He checked his belt to make sure his knife hadn’t been stolen while he slept, it hadn’t. He grinned, he was a light sleeper, he had caught more thieves trying to pick pocket him then anyone else he knew. Allen wasn’t a large, he was 17, stood about 5’10’’, but he was a tightly wadded ball of muscle, for his weight. His muscles weren’t the product of training; they were mostly the product of running from others bigger then himself and street fighting with other gangs. Yes, other gangs. Allen was part of the gang that ruled this portion of the slums, or more truthfully lived off of the people of this part of the slums. Allan picked up his leather jacket and stepped out of the crumbling building his gang used as a head quarters. Out of the dimness of slums neon lights burned, announcing drinking establishments. Prostitutes walked the street still and the venders at the black-market were setting up their wares. Allen smiled; he lived in one of the nicer areas.

            Allen joined the rest of his gang already walking through the market. Down here the only thing they could trade with those topside was water. The topsiders tried to gather enough water from what fell from rain, but all things up there eventually ended up down here. His gang got a cut of everything in this section. They had their men working the water pumps that shipped water topside, collected taxes from everything sold at the market, and got a cut from everyone else for ‘protection’ meaning that they would leave you alone if you paid…most of the time. The gang was examining a shipment of weapons that had just been smuggled in, mostly knives and switchblades. Since the Light Purge guns were very easy to get a hold of, but bullets were not. All remaining factories that produced ammo were topside and under strict government control. If you saw people coming after you with guns you knew that one of two things were true, one, that they worked for the government, or two, they worked for some crime lord that was rich enough to live topside. With the rarity of bullets, everyone began using blades to fight with. Another import from topside was gasoline. Cars still existed and were used commonly by gangs and drug lords. Lastly was food. Always-in demand, and never in large enough quantities, people only got it three ways, you bought it, you stole it, or you killed for it. The market was getting full so the gang withdrew into an ally were the shadows were even deeper and watched the crowd. It didn’t take long for their leader Guido, to find a mark. The one that he pointed out to the rest of the gang was everything that made one stand out down here. She was young, pretty, alone except for the babe she held close, and carried a largish amount of money. It was clear she had more then your normal person because of the amount food she was gathering to pay for.

Allen shook his head sadly, “Poor thing.” He thought sadly, “If she was my girl I would never leave her unattended.”

As she walked forward to haggle with the trader the gang broke out of their cover and surrounded her, shoving her back and forth between them. The young woman’s eyes were wide with fear and she held her child closer. The rest of buyers in the market did their best not to notice any of this, simply glad that they had escaped notice. Allen snatched the woman’s bag from her and threw it to Guido. Guido caught it and was about to leave when he decided that he wanted to have some fun with the girl. The gang dragged her back into the ally. Allen had hoped that they would let her go after they had taken her money. It was this thinking that Guido always called weakness and had beaten the tar out of Allen for voicing such ideas before. When Allen thought about what would be done to this young woman and her child he couldn’t suppress a shutter. Allen’s mind told him to leave this one alone, it wasn’t his fault that some idiot woman had decided to do something stupid. But when he looked at her and saw the fear in her eyes he felt sick. He grabbed the woman and pushed her behind him. The whole gang grew quiet and all eyes where one him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” demanded Guido.

Allen mumbled something.

“What’s that fool?” Guido growled drawing himself up to his impressive high (Guido wasn’t leader because of his brain).

Drawing a deep breath Allen steeled himself and said, “We’ve got the money, let her go.”

“I said I wanted to have some fun with her. If you have a problem with that why don’t you just run along home!” The other members got a good laugh out of this one. Allen felt positively sick.

“Great!” Allen thought, “So now I’m going to end up in almost as bad shape as her.” Then another thought gnawed at him, “I could just step back and let him have her, I mean, there’s nothing I can do anyway.” But he pushed that thought away; it was to late to step down.

Allen’s switchblade snapped forth with a loud click.

“Oh look at that, he wants to fight!” Guido laughed.

One of the gang members leapt forward, Allen slashed at him, making him keep his distance. While Allen’s attention was on his lone attacker, Guido moved in close and grabbed Allen’s hand. They struggled for a moment, then Guido’s bulk won out over Allen’s smaller form. Guido slammed Allen’s hand holding the knife into the wall of the ally over and over again until Allen’s hand went limp and dropped the knife. Guido pulled a switchblade of his own out and held Allen against the wall, the tip of the blade to his throat.

 

Guido leaned close and grinned, "Well Mr. Hero, it looks like your savior act needs some work." Guido shook his head, "The really sad part of all this is that your noble sacrifice hasn’t changed anything, the girl is still here and all you’ve managed to do is get yourself killed."

Fear swelled in Allen’s heart as he thought about dieing. He started a prayer, but choked it off. He didn’t need him!

A shadow fell across the ally. None of the gang members turned, they were too intent on the kill.

"Excuse me," a soft voice cut across the air, "I think it is in your best interest to let my brother go."

Guido turned, before him stood a man dressed in a long black leather jacket. The man might have been anywhere between the ages of 45 and 60, because he had a weathered face and gray hair, but he wore it long pulled back in a ponytail and moved with the grace of a man much younger then he looked.

"What did you say?" growled Guido.

The man drew near, walking unworried though their ranks, "I said let my brother go."

"He ain’t no brother of yours!" Guido said, "and this isn’t your business old man, now get out before you can’t!" the baby in the girls arms began to cry.

The old man’s face seemed to transform at the sound of the cry. His hands flew into his jacket and he drew a sword from a sheath hidden underneath. His blade arced through the air and scythed through Guido’s wrist. Before a cry could even reach his lips the old man turned and slashed one man across the stomach, and then cut upward through another’s throat. Allen fell to his knees; he was so intent on dieing that when he was released he barely knew what was going on. The rest of the gang snatched up their knives, pipes, chains etc, and charged the man in the black coat. The man avoided the chains and instead of blocking their swings he struck out at the hands holding the weapons. The two men with pipe clubs experienced having a sword find their guts, and ones with only knives lost their hands first and their heads next. Guido slumped against the wall clutching the stump of his hand during all of this and watch fearfully as the swordsman dismembered his gang. The old man struck down the last of his attackers and turned back to Guido.

Guido had turned white and through his clenched teeth said, "Just take your ‘brother’ and leave me alone. I didn’t mean anything…I just…" he droned off as the man stared down at him. The man’s eyes held him for a moment then moved down to Guido’s belt, a moneybag dangled there. The sword moved down and served the belt and snagged the moneybag. He flipped it to the woman in the corner, though his eyes never left Guido.

"Listen," he said quietly, "The road you are on leads only to death, and I pray God will have mercy on your soul."

"----Your God." Guido spat.

The man’s eyes flashed and he took Guido’s head off his shoulders. The man turned to the young woman, "Lady, you shouldn’t walk these streets alone with your child, there are worse then these hidden in the shadows."

The woman seemed to be almost as scared of the man as her once attackers, but she managed to speak in a trembling voice, "My husband is sick, we’ve hidden him, but we needed food, so I had no choice."

"If you wish, I have friends that maybe able to help him, both of you."

The woman nodded.

Allen’s mind had been screaming at him to sneak away while the man’s attention was on the mother, but something about the man drew him to the man. "Sir," Allen said, the man turned to regard him, "You said I was your brother, I’m not, I was the only child of my parents before they died."

A small smile appeared on the man’s face, "You are my brother, as truly as if you had been born in the same house."

"But how?"

"Any man who would put his life before the knife to save the weak and helpless is more my brother then any ties of blood. My God be your protector." The man took the woman’s arm and began to lead her out of the ally.

 

"Sir!" Allen yelled after him, "I…I want to follow you." The words came from his heart, but they felt strange coming from his lips, lips that were more inclined to curse then to ask favors.

The man stopped and looked back at him, a strange look in his eyes, "Very well, come."

Chapter 2

Following the woman’s lead, they wove their way through the maze of rubble and trash. Sometimes over narrow streets, other times they descended into tunnels that twisted off into complete darkness. Eyes peered out of the darkness at them, strange sounds issued from the darkness, and more then once they passed the remains of those unlucky enough to travel alone. Finally they reached a cave of sorts made of collapsed concrete. The strange man preceded them into cave, and called that it was safe before they entered. Inside, on a bed of rags laid a young man. His covers were soaked with sweat that plastered his hair to his head. Mercifully, he seemed to be able to escape his pain in his sleep. The older man knelt beside him and peeled back the covers. The man had a bandage rapped around his ribs. The man looked at the young woman questioningly.

“He tripped a week or so back and cut his side on some scrap metal.” She explained.

“It has become infected.” Said the man after a moment, “He will die if he stays here. You there,” he said looking at Allen, “I am going to carry him, you follow my directions and lead the way back to my camp. By the way what is your name?”

“Allen…sir.” He tacked the ‘sir’ on the end because the man seemed like the type that needed to be respected.

“My name is Marten, Sir Marten. Allen you need to walk before us and keep a look out. If you see a threat give a shout so I can set him down and deal with it. Understand?”

Allen nodded.

“Allen…” the man said thoughtfully as if he was trying it out.

Allen didn’t notice, as he walked before Marten and the lady he had a few things on his mind, first to keep them safe and second the man that walked behind him carrying the sick young husband.

 

Chapter 3

A rival gained

“A Knight!” the thought had sent a shock wave through Allen’s brain. Knights were the ones reasonable for Great Plague. Yet this one had faced any amount of danger with no regard for his own life. One of the lessons one learned was not to borrow trouble. One of Allen’s only real friends growing up had been an old thief, he had told Allen once, “Borrowed trouble will be paid back in full and compounded with interest.” And Allen had always lived that way…until today that is.

“Enough!” he scolded himself; “I’ll think about this when I have time, but not right now. Right now I have to try to keep us alive.”

Following the knight’s orders they made their way through the slums and out to the edge of the light. It was here that Allen was in for a shock; there at the outskirts of the slum was a large encampment of maybe 250 people. What impressed Allen more was that they had their own light. Gasoline was next to impossible to get, and yet these people somehow had their own generators.

Allen was so intent on this that he barely noticed a shadow detach itself from a pile of rubble. Even though he almost missed it, Allen had been raised on the streets and acted on instinct. Allen didn’t pause, didn’t think, he acted. He tackled the shadowed form; the force of his leap knocked him and his attacker to the ground, where a fierce scuffle ensued. The grapple was broken when a pair of strong hands grabbed them and forced them apart.

Marten’s voice cut through Allen’s battle rage, “Stop at once you two young fools!”

The attacker’s foot lashed out and caught Allen under the jaw.

“I said enough!”

Both stopped their fight and finally got a good look at one another. Allen’s opponent was a young man about Allen’s age with long black hair and almost black eyes. Even it this dim light Allen could see his Asian bloodlines. The look on the young man’s face was a look of surprise and shame.

“Please forgive me Sir. I didn’t realize it was you speaking.”

“So I imagined. I take it you are on lookout duty?” Marten asked.

“No sir,” the boy admitted, “ I was merely scouting the area for signs of your return.”

“Well it would appear that you have found them…or him I might say. I would like you to meet Allen, a young yahoo much like yourself I should imagine.”

The young man flushed but said nothing.

“Allen, this is Genji Odagiri, a student of mine.”

Marten returned to where he had set the sick man upon the sound of the fight ahead. He came back carrying the man and leading the woman and her child, and together they entered the camp. As they walked Genji didn’t look at him, he walked proudly with his head high, as if Allen was beneath his attention to notice.

The camp was roughly the shape of a square and was ringed around with barbed wire. The barbed wire was carefully laid, for each time they moved it would be rolled up and taken with then to serve again. Floodlights on tripods filled the camp with light and there were even two or three running vehicles. The number depended on how many were running at the time. Parts were easy to find since old cars and trucks sat where they had stopped years earlier, the problem lay in finding the right parts for the vehicle in question. The people they past as they walked startled Allen. They were a different sort of people then he had ever known. They all wore patched clothes, looked somewhat tired, but that was true of most people that lived in the slums, but there was something missing. The despair, and bitterness that filled the faces and hearts of the people were not here. In it’s place he saw children playing, their faces filled with childish happiness and innocents, mothers chatting fondly to one another, and fathers stopping in their works to exchange a friendly word with friends. Allen felt as if he had come home, though he had never had a home that he remembered. He had his sleeping holes, and his hangouts, but nowhere he felt safe or truly restful. The dwellings were mere tents, and most people cooked over open fires. There were two tents that stood out among the sea of lesser dwellings. They were great tents made of fine cloth. Each seemed big enough to house most of the people in the camp by themselves. One was white with a black cross sewn onto it; the other was a dull brown. As they walked Allen saw several stills along the way.

“Ah,” Allen thought, “so that’s how they make their fuel.”

Nothing was thrown away; it was instead turned into alcohol in the stills then used to burn in the generators.

When they entered the camp, people looked up and upon seeing them dropped everything and crowded around them. The sick man and his family were taken away by a kindly older couple to rest in their tent. The rest asked question after question at the same time, so that Marten was hard pressed to answer them. Allen was a young man of great courage; he told them and would be staying with them if he wished. The people called for the story of what happened, and Sir Marten quickly related what had happened with Allen protecting the young mother. Marten related the story in its barest details, giving only the facts, and saying little of the battle itself. He sent Genji to gather the “Elders” and beckoned Allen to follow him. They headed to the Brown tent.

“Allen.” Said Marten at last, “Here is where you will stay if you wish. This is my home.”

“Whoa!” was all Allen could say. For Marten drew back the folds of the tent and when they entered Allen was surprised. He had expected some throne with riches piled around. Instead he was shocked that the tent was filled with training equipment. Ropes and weights covered the great room. Mats for fighting covered the floor, and weapons stood in racks. Most of it was set up as a training course; ropes stretched up to the top of the tent and narrow walkways hung in the air. In the corner was a bedroll and a wooden desk.

“So you get all this to yourself?” asked Allen.

“Yes, in a way.” Said Sir Marten.

“What do you mean ‘in a way’?”

“This is the training hall. Anyone one can come and work out here at anytime they chose.”

“Oh,” said Allen flushing. The Knight had an un-nerving effect on Allen. No matter what he said it seemed the wrong thing. That and he didn’t like how the knight looked at him. Somehow it made him feel guilty as if but looking at him he would somehow guess the sins that he had done.

Within a few minutes the Elders began to arrive. There were only five. The first was large man, standing six and a half feet tall. He had a wide girth to match, but his arms and shoulders gave witness to the fact that he had, and still was, a man of great strength, even though he could stand to lose a few pounds. He had a good-natured face that openly showed his thoughts. The next man was old and gray. He had a white beard and a wise face. His movements were slow, but not feeble, he seemed to move at that slower rate simply because he had no need to get there any sooner. The rest of the men were younger, though all were over 45 at least. The big man walked over to Allen and slapped him on the back with force that nearly knocked him off his feet.

“So you’re the young hero I’ve heard tell of.” He boomed, “Ha ha ha! Took on a whole gang I hear.”

“…Yes sir…” Allen gasped trying in vain to suck air back into his lungs. It didn’t matter anyway, the man wasn’t listening anyway. He continued to talk, though Allen lost the thread of what was being said. Allen was saved by the fact that Sir Marten called the meeting to order just as the big man was expecting an answer.

“Brothers,” Marten began, “you have heard of today’s events?”

There were answering nods.

“I recall that some time ago you brought it to my attention that I was the last living Knight on this fallen earth. You asked me to pick someone to train to join me in my Order. I told you at the time that I had been given a dream concerning the man I would chose, and that I would not act before it had come to pass.” Marten’s deep calm voice paused, “Today the dream has come to pass. I call you here to hear my choice and the choice of God Almighty.” Marten’s gaze turned upon Allen, “I chose this man. Allen, I chose you!”

There was a moment of silence, and then the room was filled by voices all talking at once. Then a roar spilt the air; restoring the room to order.

“Thank you Simon.” Said Marten to the large man. “Now, please one at a time.”

Simon stood, “Marten, I’ll stand by what ever you say. You know that. If you say that boy over there should be the next knight, then I think it’s a great idea!” Simon grinned and sat down again.

Another man stood, “Sir,” he said, “I will stand by your order of course--.”

“Of course but.” Marten interrupted.

“But,” the man continued, “Isn’t there any young men here that you might chose from? Ones that we have known all their lives and trust. Is this Allen even a Christian?”

The eyes in the room turned on Allen. Allen’s mind was I a whirlwind and he said something.

“Allen,” the gray bearded man called, “Do you know the Lord?”

This echoed in Allen’s mind. Yes he knew their God. He was the one who held out hope for the fun of snatching it away again. He was the God that allowed good people to suffer while he rewarded the evil people. He was God that had stood by and let the world be torn asunder. He knew their Lord.

“Yes!” he spat, “I know him, he’s the one who leave the protection women and children to punks like me. He’s the one that let my mother died of the water poisoning.”

“Son,” came the soothing voice of the old man, “he is the provider of his people…”

“Provider!” Allen’s voice raised in anger and bitterness, “What has he provided you with? Because of his provision your religion was nearly wiped off the face of the earth. Because of his care you live hunted lives in the darkness. He’s letting you live so he can destroy you later, his joke on you isn’t over yet!” His rant died out. He hadn’t meant to say all that. What would offending these people gain him?

“Allen,” came the stern voice of the Knight, “You said you would follow me, true?”

Allen swallowed, “Yes sir.”

“I follow Christ, and you follow me, therefore you to follow him. Hopefully one day that will change, but for now that will have to do. I pray I walk worthy of the one I follow so you might some day find him yourself.”

To the rest of the men there he said, “That goes for you to. What God has decided no man may change!”

The men didn’t look satisfied with the answer, but they didn’t argue. A few more things were discussed, and then the men slipped out once more.

When they were alone Allen turned to the Knight and said, “You didn’t ask me if I wanted to become a knight.”

“True.” Agreed Sir Marten. He turned and sat down at the desk and started writing in a large book that lay there.

Allen walked over in front of the desk and stood there waiting for an answer. After a moment the Knight looked up again.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Why should I stay here and train to be a knight?”

“Good question.” Said the knight looking back at what he had written. “There is only one reason I can think of.”

“And that is?”

“God chose you.”

“I told you what I think of your God.” Allen said puzzled.

“You are free to leave at anytime.” Marten reminded him. “But you should know that being a knight is the greatest honor one can posses. Many here would trade their lives for such an honor. However, it is up to you.”

Allen paused, what the old man said made sense and after all he didn’t have anywhere else to go. On top of that he had meant what he had said about following this man.

“Alright, you got yourself a student.”

Allen asked to have a look around the camp, and Marten agreed. As he was leaving, Genji passed him without a look and swept into the tent. Allen shrugged and continued on his way.

 

Genji couldn’t believe what he had heard, not until he had heard it from Sir Marten himself. He hurried to the training tent and found Marten behind his desk. Genji stood there without speaking until the knight looked up.

“Genji have you noticed that Christians seem to excel at certain sins even more then the unsaved?” he asked without looking up.

Genji didn’t answer.

“Take gossip for example.” He continued, “It seems there is nothing I can say that in less then five minutes isn’t known by the whole camp.” He looked up from his writing, “But there are those among the camp responsible enough to check in to things before they believe them. And the answer is yes, Genji. I have chosen Allen to be my squire.”

Genji’s face flushed with anger. “You chose that dirty street punk! What does he have to offer! He is nothing! He has no honor, how is it he gains such a position?” Genji spat in rage and scorn.

The knights green eyes had dipped back to his writing, but now they shifted back up and flared up at this outcry. Anger coursed through Marten’s face “I expected better from you!” he said in a low voice. He spoke quietly, but there was steel behind the voice. “What do you know of him that you judge him so harshly? The anger you harbor is the same anger Cain had for Able. By your words you shame yourself! Allen will be the next knight God has himself decreed it. I will stand for no one standing in the way of God’s will. Now return to your house!”

Genji slumped at these words from his teacher. He opened his mouth to speak but Marten interrupted, “Now Genji! There is nothing more to say.”

Gengi’s mouth snapped shut. He drew himself up proudly and left the tent.

Marten sat for a long moment, his work forgotten. He spoke his thoughts a loud, “Yes Genji, I have chosen he over you. You believe it a shame to you. My son, if only you saw what I saw, you should praise God that you were not chosen. All I offer Allen is a life of struggle, pain, and darkness.” Marten sat for a long time staring at nothing.

 

Chapter 4

Training begins

Allen’s training started the very next day. He worked all day learning to fight (or fight better as he would term it), and to curb his less then disciplined speech (“I know you don’t want me talk that way, but that’s what he is anyway!”). Allen was the talk of the camp. Everyone was eager for a glimpse of him. Allen had never enjoyed such attention. At the end of the week the camp packed up and moved again. After the labor had been done the other young people came over to talk to the “new guy”. Allen was fine with that.

“So what is it like where you used to live?” asked a pretty red head.

“Well,” said Allen assuming a low voice, “Everyday was an adventure. You woke, ate, and slept by your wits.”

“Oh my!” gasped the girl.

“Yeah, but a for a guy like me it wasn’t anything to worry about.” Said Allen, “I’ve got more then one trick up my sleeve. Yeah, but normally the only ones who know it aren’t able to tell anyone any more.”

Several faces in the group looked shocked.

“I know,” he continued, “it’s a shock, a guy like me looks like such a great guy. But it’s a hard world out there. A man has to do what a man has to do.”

And the talk continued like that. Allen boasted and made up stories of adventures for his eager audience. None of them had ever been out of the camp, or if they had it had been long before they could remember it. Everything with in the camp was carefully censored, and related to Church or work. There parents had escaped the dark and troubled world by living here and they didn’t want to pollute their children anymore then had too. Therefore, Allen’s worldliness drew them like flies to honey…or as their fathers and mothers, flies to a dead fish. Two young people didn’t catch the lure of Allen’s wildness. They were Genji and his sister Kei. They kept to themselves and tried to ignore Allen and his followers. Genji had been the center of attention before this, because not only was he a student of Sir Marten, he was also the only one in camp who left…until Allen came along of course. Genji would tell anyone that asked that he didn’t care if people paid attention to him or not, but no one asked. Kei didn’t join group around Allen, not because she felt the need to keep her brother company, it was because he was the sort of boy that she despised. He was boastful, flirtatious, and a hot head. So instead of joining her friends she stayed with her brother talking in low voices.

“You’d think they’d never seen a boy before.” Kei observed.

“Idiots!” Genji fumed, “How easily he impresses them with his ‘heroic’ tales.”

“Don’t worry Genji. It’s just because he’s new. They will lose interest.” Said Kei.

“I don’t care!” Genji finally got to say, “Let them swoon over him! It is beneath me to care!”

“Since when?” asked Kei dryly.

Genji glared at her then turned away. Though he tried to hide it she saw the hurt in his eyes. Kei put her hand on his shoulder, but Genji shook it off and turned to look at her again.

“I sure hope they didn’t hang around with me just because I was exciting. If I had known I would have stayed away from them.” He laughed, “Look at the bright side, Allen has done me a service anyway, I no longer have to deal with those losers, I am finally alone.”

They traveled for several days through the darkness. On the fifth day they reached a new slum and made camp outside the borders. Barbed wire was strung and watches were posted. Everyone over 16 had to stand guard at one point or another, but there were normally a few days in between watch duty. The two great tents were pitched. Genji and Allen were forced to work near each other for much of the day. Allen worked clumsily, for he had never pitched a tent or set up defensive positions before, and Genji was sharp to correct anything that he did wrong or too slowly.

Once Allen dropped a line that led to the training tent’s collapse, Genji railed at him, the stopped and said loudly, “Forgive me, I had forgotten you’ve never done any real work before. I should have one of the children show you how it’s done.”

Allen had started forward angrily, but was caught by the rope he had dropped and was dragged from his feet. By the time he regained his footing, Genji was gone, but his laughter still echoed in Allen’s mind.

 

Training wasn’t easy for Allen either. Sir Marten was a tough teacher. He told Allen that the fighting skills he had a massed while living in the slums were sloppy and lacked power. He told Allen that he must relearn everything he knew about fighting. No longer was Allen allowed to fight using anger to fuel his attacks.

“Anger adds to your physical attack power, but out of check it becomes rage which impairs intelligence and judgment, as well as cutting down on speed.” He had told Allen. Allen responded that it had gotten him out of more then a few tight spots.

“Very well, we will have a short sparring match to prove my point.” Conceded Marten.

Allen walked over to where the sparring gloves were held, but Marten told him to stop. He was only to wrap his hands for this one. Marten removed his long coat and walked into the middle of the ring. “Genji.” He called, “I want you to fight Allen for a short while. He wishes to show the power of rage over intellect. Put on the heavy gloves and foot padding.”

Allen smiled. There was no way that Genji could beat him wearing the gloves and pads. It would weigh him down and take his power down too far to be much trouble. He would finally put Genji in his place. Marten bent close to Genji and whispered something.

“You ready?” Allen called.

“Yeah.”

“Hey Genji, remember what you said the other day?” Allen said as he stepped into the ring.

“It’s still true today.” Genji sneered.

“I’ll make you eat those words.” Allen shouted and lunged at Genji.

Allen’s fist hit only air because Genji wasn’t there. Genji dropped his hands and motioned for Allen to try again.

“Try again. I guess out there on those ‘danger filled streets’ attackers stayed put like good little boys and let you hit them.” Genji sneered again.

“That’s it punk!”

Allen attacked with everything he was worth. Punches and kicks flew, but Genji either sidestepped them or blocked them easily. Every once in a while, Genji would plant a light jab, which infuriated Allen all the more. This continued for what seemed like hours. Allen was puffing and sweating like mad.

“Quit running away!” he huffed at Genji, “Stand and fight, or are you scared?”

Genji looked at Sir Marten, who shook his head. Genji nodded and sidestepped another attack. Genji kept this up for another twenty minutes, finally Allen held up his hands, and hunched over to catch his breath. Genji nodded, and then kicked Allen in the face. Allen stumbled back in shock. He shot a look at sir Marten, figuring that the knight would stop the fight and reprimand Genji for such a cheap shot. Marten sat there with no expression on his face. Genji struck Allen with an upper cut that sent him reeling. Allen fell back into the ropes. Genji pounded him, and Allen was thankful for the gloves, they kept the Genji’s hands from cutting him, but the blows rattled his brain. Then the blows stopped. Allen looked up. Marten stood in front of him. Genji was at the other side of the ring taking off his pads. Rage welled up in Allen and he flung himself at Genji, intent on repaying some of the hurt he had suffered. Genji turned and snapped a kick that laid him out flat. When he woke again, Genji was gone and Marten was back at his desk.

At the sound Marten rose and walked over, “To resume where we left off. Genji and you are pretty well matched. He has more training, but you have more experience. I instructed him not to do anything but taunt you until you’re rage had vented. He controlled his feelings, and conserved his energy, so when you foolishly expended all of yours he could attack and defeat you with out hardly trying. Even when your rage reached it’s height at the end of the match, you moved much to slowly, and Genji knocked you out.”

“No rage from now on. Got it.” Allen groaned.

“On the other hand Allen. Remember that Genji only acted like he did under my orders. There is no excuse for such disrespect normally.”

 

After that, Marten found a much better student in Allen. He feared that it wasn’t because Allen had seen the error of his ways, but because he now wanted to become better then Genji.

 

Chapter 5

 

Allen noticed something. Well, he noticed two things. The first of which was that every teen girl in camp seemed to be falling all over themselves to flirt with him. The second, was the fact that there was one girl in camp that avoided him at any cost. Now, Allen was of the mind that if it isn’t broke don’t fix it, but there were several reasons that brought this girl to his mind over and over. There was the fact that she didn’t like him. Allen could understand that. There was one in every crowd and after he found out she was Genji’s sister it made even more sense. Another reason was the fact that she was often in the Training Tent. She tried to come when he wasn’t there, but she was there everyday and it was hard to miss him that often. She seemed to work as an aid of sorts to Sir Marten. She was very much like her brother, she had the prideful tilt to her head, she walked with grace and confidence, yet was completely humble before Marten.

“Makes sense I guess,” Allen thought as he worked on the punching bag, “the perfect guy and his perfect sister work for the only perfect Christian.” He laughed a loud, “How the heck did a screwball like me get in here?”

 

Genji was thinking the same thing. Well, not that he and his sister were perfect, just the fact that Allen was a screwball. Genji smiled. It was fun beating the tar out of Allen. Genji was no fool; he saw how hard Allen was training to beat him. Though he would never admit it, Allen was a skillful fighter, not much worse then Genji. It was only his stupidity that kept him from winning. But Genji was training too. He went to the Tent each day to train with Marten, and then returned home to train again by himself. He would have no problems with Allen next time.

One morning Sir Marten told Genji and Allen that they would be coming with him into the slums to buy supplies again. The Christians were not rich, but they made several tradable goods. One was alcohol, though for fuel not for drinking, it was made from whatever spoiled goods they had on hand. Another thing they traded was small technology. As they wandered the underworld they stripped the ruins of whatever useful things where in the rubble. These were then fixed, cleaned, and resold. Can openers, cups, plates, and other things that rarely found their way to the underworld were also part of their wares. It wasn’t worth too much, but it enabled them to buy black market food, clothes, or other things they could not find on their own. Both Genji and Allen were to push to hand carts of this type of thing while Marten acted to discourage thieves.

 

They left the compound and walked into the maze of shanties and rubble. It seemed strange to Allen, everything looked the same as the slum he had been born and raised in, except at the same time everything was different. Back in his home slum he had felt more at ease, the shadows and little corners protected him, now he eyed them knowing that anyone or anything could be only a few feet away at anytime. Genji too must be feeling it, for as he walked he his eyes darted from side to side. Sir Marten walked as he always did; head held high, shoulders squared, and his eyes looking ahead. If Allen hadn’t known better he would have said that Marten wasn’t ready for an attack even though he was playing guard at the moment. But Marten was employing a different form of readiness then his two students, instead of probing the darkness about him he was employing his ears and his other senses that might sense an attacker before the eyes would. Marten had told Allen that only a fool relies on only one sense.

“So how’d you guys get food and stuff before you had me to cart it?” asked Allen.

“Sir Marten pushed the cart and stood guard.” Genji answered.

“Ah. So what exactly are we buying?”

“Grain if they have it.” Said Genji.

“Enough talk.” Marten’s voice cut in.

They reached the slum center where the venders sold their wares and the rest of the people plied their trades, anything and everything went on here. The center was a roughly circle shaped cleared space under one of the overhead lights. The local gang members walked around keeping an eye on things and enforcing a crude version of a law. The law was pretty much no stealing or ripping people off…at least not without giving a cut to the gang leader. In return for this policing the gang took just about what ever it needed, but once more only to a point. If the traders were abused too much they would simply stop selling their goods and kill a good portion of the gang’s profits. Food was sold by the gang itself, since it had to be obtained from someone topside or smuggled out of one of the slave farms. The gangs answered to a higher slumlord who was the one that cut the deals for food in the first place. Stopping in the center, Marten approached one of the gang members.

“What?” asked the man through yellow teeth.

“We need food.”

“So?” asked the punk, “What’ch gonna give for it?”

“To you?” said Marten, “Nothing. To your boss? Well isn’t that for him to know?”

“Just hang for a sec.”

The man disappeared into one of the tents pitched around a moment later reappeared with an extremely fat man with a shaved head. The man wore just a pair of pants and a leather vest that could have never made it around his middle.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” Said the fat man holding out his hand.

“I haven’t been ‘around’.” Said Marten disregarding the hand.

“Gotcha. So what are ya needing?”

“About 500 pounds of grain.” Said Marten.

“Grain? Why ‘d ya need that?” The fat man’s eyes narrowed, “You aint trying to steal our business are ya?”

“No we are passing through and need it.”

“What ya got to trade?” said the fat man pushing past Marten. “What’s in the barrels?”

“Fuel alcohol.” Said Genji.

“Hmm…not bad.” Said the man. “You got more?”

“I’ll give you two hundred gallons for the grain.”

“Ah man, you’re trying to kill me here! Five hundred pounds of grain for five hundred gallons! It’s only fair!”

Marten and the man haggled for a long time until they reached an agreement on 280 gallons of alcohol and two carts of assorted goods.

The boys dumped their loads and followed Marten as he led the way out. The grain would be delivered to the edge of the slum where the rest of the sale would take place.

In the slums it never was a good idea to look weak, not even for a moment. If weakness were seen, the sulkers, cutthroats, and stalkers would attack like sharks drawn to blood. On the other hand, being to strong and healthy was a problem too. Genji and Marten, and now even Allen, with their healthy well fed bodies and toned muscles stood out like a sore thumb amid the filthy druggies and scum of the market place. To stand out in anyway was deadly. Some one had already marked the three as they walked towards the edge of the market.

Allen flinched. Marten stopped and spun to look at him, “What is it?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” said Allen, “I thought I heard something.”

“What did it sound like?” Marten pressed.

“Sort of a whirling sound. Like a small motor makes.”

Marten went ridged. “Run!” He commanded them.

Out of the shadows a dozen shapes sprang surrounding them. All about the market a cry went up “Street Surgeon!” and with that cry everything erupted into a riot as people fought tooth and nail to get away. The Street Surgeons wore scrubs, gloves, and all the other clothes that marked them as Doctors. However the blood that was splattered down the front of them made them look more like butchers then healers. Street Surgeons made their living by harvesting the organs of others and selling them to the highest bidder. The hospitals topside gained all of their organs and blood from this source, and therefore they were well paid and well equipped for the task. In their hands they held scalps, lances, bone saws and other deadly surgical tools. Rumor had it that they also carried guns with them. Because of their topside contacts they were some of the few that did. But bullets had a habit destroying the body, and the surgeons didn’t believe in such things, they believed in taking the body apart piece by piece.

As it turned out, for once they weren’t the only healthy people in the crowed. Another young man also fit that description and he knew it. While Marten called to the boys to stay near him, this young man crazily tried to break through and escape. He was felled by two of the surgeons. Allen could hear them talking as their fellows closed on the three.

“Clumsy! If you nicked the heart...”

“Shut up, look you’re losing blood over there. Hold that bag still.”

“It’s not my fault. He’s still moving.”

Allen shuttered. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen the Surgeons, but being caught was one of his darkest nightmares. The sight of the bloody mess that had been a person made him sick. He looked over at Genji and was pleased to see that the young rival was in a near state of shock. He turned and threw up, but he got a hold on himself and his face-hardened. Allen had to give Genji credit for one thing he did have nerve. If they expected the Surgeons to speak or to pause, they were wrong. They came at them all at once from all directions. One came at Allen; in his hand he held a bone saw that and realized that the whirling sound he had heard had come from it.

            Panic filled Allen. To die was something that was always on the mind when you lived bottom-side, but death by having your heart torn from your still living body while evil mockeries of healers hovered over you was too much for Allen. He turned and tried to run but his legs were knocked from under him. He hit the ground hard and felt someone place their foot on his back holding him down. His hands where forced behind him and he felt bands snap shut around his wrists. Allen was down but refused to die like this. He heard Genji cry out in pain and guessed the same thing was happening to the other young man. He struggled with the hands that held him.

            A soothing voice spoke just above his ear, “Now, don’t do that. You might injure something and then where would we be? Relax, it will be over in a moment.”

            The sound of the saw grew louder and Allen felt it touch his hair on the back of his neck. Allen screamed.

            The weight on his back suddenly lifted. Allen flipped over and looked up. Genji stood over him grappling with the surgeon that had been holding Allen down. There was blood running down Genji’s face turning one side of his face into a hideous mask of red. With one hand Genji held the saw inches away from his throat with the other hand he clasped his attacker’s neck. They grappled for a moment then Genji pulled his enemy’s head close changed his grip. He turned the head one way then snapped back the other way. A thin shriek escaped the Surgeon’s lips and he fell lifeless to the ground. Sir Marten held the rest of the Surgeons at bay with his long sword…or what was left of them. There were only eight left. He look back briefly and seeing Genji finished with his enemy reached his left hand into his coat and drew a short sword. This he tossed to Genji. Genji cut the bindings that held Allen’s wrists and then turned to help Marten. Allen watched him for a moment then he grabbed a metal pipe that happened to be lying near by and joined them.

The Surgeons didn’t like the way the fight had gone thus far. They decided that the old man, however healthy wasn’t worth the risk to trying to harvest him whole.

The head Surgeon yelled to his remaining associates, “Take the old one out!”

In that instant all six drew handguns on Marten.

“Heaven No!” breathed Marten. He hadn’t counted on firearms. He leapt at one as the Surgeon leveled his gun. He seized the Surgeon’s arm and spun him around, throwing him into the path of a bullet aimed at the knight. Marten flung the body aside. Genji dove and rolled across the ground. He came up with his sword thrust up impaling one of the Surgeons as he fired. The shot went into the ground just above Genji’s shoulder. Marten jumped and struck a wall and used it to springboard out of the way of another bullet and then as he fell through the air he sliced into the chest of yet another Surgeon.

“So this scum is what all the stories are told about! I am not impressed!” Genji scoffed. He twisted around and knocked into Allen. Both landed in a pile, tangled with each other.

“Get them!” hissed the head Surgeon, “I’ll handle old one.”

Marten appeared next to the Surgeon. “Handle me?” He grabbed the hand with the gun, “I think not.” He passed his blade through the Surgeon’s middle. He then twisted and flung a pair of throwing stars at the Surgeons closing on the two tangled boys.

Marten looked over to them, “Are you ok?”

Allen did a quick check, “Yeah.”

“Genji?”

“I received a cut to my head in the first attack, but it’s not deep.”

“You saved me. I owe you.” Said Allen in amazement.

Genji’s face drew tight with pride, “It is nothing to me. It was simply another enemy in my way.”

Marten nodded, “You fought well. You are still much to confident, but never the less a good job.”

Genji grabbed on of the empty carts and began pushing it, “Maybe you’d like to tell your fans about this one.”

Chapter 6

As they limped back to camp Allen spent the time cursing himself. Genji had shown him up again and worse in front of Sir Marten. The guards at the edge of camp met them and soon the whole camp was stirring when their wounds were seen. Kei and her mother ran out to meet Genji, making a fuss over him and dabbing at his wound. Suddenly Allen felt very lonely. He didn’t have some to fuss over him. He hoped that Genji appreciated the fact that he did, not likely since it looked like Genji was doing everything in his power to escape their ministrations.

            With Genji pinned by his sister, his mother left to look for Sir Marten. Being a truly motherly person, she felt it her duty to look after the knight, but Marten was nowhere to be seen. Allen lost interest and wondered off.

            Marten saw Genji’s mother coming and had made himself scarce. As he moved stealthily across camp he chuckled to himself. She was a delicate thing small boned and pale. She felt that he was totally unable to take care of himself a fact she felt proved every time he came back roughed up or wounded. He had grown up with her back in the old days together with his best friend, later her husband, the three of them had done anything and everything. He too had seen Genji struggle to escape his sister and mother and like Allen had felt a little lonely. “By the time he realizes what he has it might very well be gone.” He thought to himself, after all, that’s what happened to him.

 

            Allen walked back to the training tent. He left after Genji began to describe the battle. He heard Genji’s voice retelling how Allen had gotten in his way and had ended up knocking him down. His voice was filled with awe as he described how Marten had taken six of the Street Surgeons single handedly. Allen flushed at being reminded of his blunder. He entered the tent and leaned on the center post. Allen hung his head in shame and looked at the ground. He had moved to slowly and had gotten in the way because he was afraid. The Surgeons were the stuff of nightmares yet that self centered, cocky…Allen named Genji a few other less wonderful things, managed to swallow his fear.

            “And still,” he though aloud, “He did save my life. On the other hand, he did it just to show me up.” He shook his head. “These Christians don’t make any sense.”

 

            The plan had been to break camp again after the grain had been picked up, but one of the trucks broke down and they were faced with the choice of leaving it or searching for parts. Finding car parts wasn’t hard bottom-side, but finding the right parts took time. Old wrecked cars were everywhere, but the down side was the fact that some times people lived in the cars and didn’t take well to having people tear a piece off them. Armed men were dispatched to comb the out skirts of the settlement to find replacements. They were ordered to avoid contact if possible; they didn’t need another battle anytime soon and the fact that they had won before made them stick out, again not a good thing to do. Allen was surprised to find that neither he nor Marten went out with men to look for parts. Marten felt that since they were planning to stay put for a while it would be a good chance to focus on training Allen.

 

            Allen was stripped down to the waist, and was beginning to wish he had gone with the men to look for parts. Marten had been riding him hard all morning. Now they were working the punching bag.

            “Faster!” Marten commanded, “No, not harder, I said faster! Never sacrifice speed for power.”

            Allen gritted his teeth and willed his sore muscles to move faster.

            “There we go,” Marten said, “That’s what I want to see…ok, break for a minute.”

            They left the warm tent to sit outside in the cool dark outside.

            “You noticed what you did in there?”

            Allen grunted, “Yeah, I hit a bag with my fist.”

            “I mean at the end, your body should have been worn out long before that point, but look at what you did. You used your mind to force your body to obey, no matter how you felt. That mental control is the stuff you need to work towards.”

            They walked back into the tent. Allen didn’t mutter a complaint, but he was dreading what Marten would make him do next.

            Marten saw the look on his face and one eyebrow. “I believe that’s enough exercise for now. From now until lunch we will work on meditation.”

            Allen perked up considerably, as he always did when someone mentioned food. Marten told him that Kei would be bringing it sometime soon.

            “Ok,” said Allen, “So we do what, sit around and try to reach enlightenment sort of like those ‘New Age’ nuts?”

            “No, most of the time I focus on the Lord God and his will,” seeing Allen’s face darken he continued, “or focus your thoughts on whatever question or person that you find confusing at the moment.”

            “And this helps…how? Some sort of knightly way of divining or something?” asked Allen confused.

            Marten sighed, “No, it’s nothing magic, you are simply letting your mind devote all of its resources to solve the problem or to bring things you haven’t noticed or things you’ve been ignoring to the surface. And this helps by bringing your mind to order. Normal life has a chaotic effect on one’s mind and if left alone reduces your self control.”

            Allen grinned, “But I don’t have any self control.”

            “That’s the point.”

           

            About fifteen minutes later Kei entered the tent with their lunch. She stopped and looked around unsure if the tent was empty or not, then she saw them. Marten sat at his desk, his arms crossed and his eyes closed. Allen sat cross-legged next to him. She hadn’t noticed them for a moment because they were so still. Marten must have heard her and opened his eyes.

            “Ah Kei, I was just thinking about you.” He motioned for her to carry the food over to the desk.

            “Really? What did you think about?”

            “That you look so much like your mother at your age.” Marten replied.

            Kei looked down at Allen, “He must be really deep in thought.”

            Marten prodded Allen with his foot, “No…I think he’s asleep.”

            Allen’s eyes fluttered open, “The question I was thinking about needs more time to ponder. Wake me in ten minutes.” With that he closed his eyes and fell over backwards.

 

            Genji walked stiffly across the camp towards the training tent. Rubbing his sore muscles he entered the flaps and looked around. No one was in the tent. Lying on the desk was a note in Marten’s flowing handwriting.

            Genji: We have gone out to practice swordplay. We most likely will not be back before dinner time, therefore please inform your mother that Kei is with us. Below I have outlined your training for the rest of the day.

            The rest of the page was a list of exercises, kata, clean-up work that needed done. Genji’s face darkened, but he began to follow the instructions to the letter…however, not a bit farther.

            Allen was glad to be out of the stuffy tent and back in the cool open darkness he was accustom to living. Kei had pulled her hair back into a ponytail to keep it from blowing in her eyes. Marten walked over to an old slab of concrete and set down the bundle he had carried out with them. Slowly unrolling it Allen gasped, before him were swords of every make and size.

            “Whoa! Where’d you find so many different kinds?”

            “Most of these I collected back when I was in my teens, my father was a knight too and he helped me pull all this together. I used to have more, but over time I only have my favorites left.”

            Kei took a Tai Chi sword from the pile. She began to swing, twist, and slice with an almost dance like grace.

            “You can sword fight?” Allen asked in disbelief.

            “Why are you surprised?” she demanded, “Is it because I’m a girl?”

            “Yeah…No! Not at all.” Allen stammered.

            Kei tossed her head back and gave Allen a look that said he was written off forever.

            Allen came over and began to look through the pile of swords. Marten stood nearby and answered questions for him. Finally at the bottom of the pile he spotted a blade that interested him. It had the blade of katana, though a bit thicker then the rest he had seen. It had a handle and hilt of a broadsword and the sheath was made of leather not wood like the other Japanese swords he had seen earlier. It had a belt that was meant to buckle on and engraved in the leather were the letters HOPE. Allen couldn’t read, so he turned to Marten to ask what it said. But Marten upon seeing the long sword took it from Allen hands and placed it back in the pile without a word. He reached out and picked a katana from the other swords and handed it to Allen.

            “Here,” he said, “Try this one.”

            Allen unsheathed the blade and gasped, the handle seemed to fit his hand. He was no swordsman but even he could tell that the blade was finely balanced and the blade keenly honed (not that those words were in his vocabulary).

            “Whoa!” he breathed, “Why is this one so different from the rest?”

            “It’s one finest blades you’ll ever run into. My friend and I saved for years, but we pulled our money together and each bought one.” He paused, “They were the best that could be bought, they combined the alloys of the twenty first century with the crafting of the eighteenth.”

            “So why show me?” asked Allen, “Beside the fact that it’s cool?”

            “When you are learning it’s hard to tell whether something is done right or not. When you are shown the best there is, you then have something to weigh everything else by.”

            Marten worked with both Allen and Kei. At first Allen’s movements were clumsy and jerky, but after a time he began to move with more grace; so much so that even he became impressed.

            “Hey hey hey!!!” He laughed, “Check this out!” He twirled and jumped then lost his footing and fell heavily to the ground. He sat there for a moment with an ashamed look on his face, then he threw back his head and started laughing again. Kei looked down at him and started laughing too, even Marten’s brow cleared and a slight smile touched his face.

            On the way back to camp Allen fell in step with Kei and walked with her without saying anything. Kei for her part didn’t speed up or act disturbed, so Allen took this as a good sign.

            Allen cast about in his mind for a good conversation starter, “So how do you put up with that brother of yours?”

            Kei drew herself up and turned to face him, her eyes blazed. She opened her mouth to speak, then as if she didn’t trust herself to say anything she increased her speed and moved to walk beside Sir Marten.

            “Hmm…”Allen thought to himself, “That could have gone better.”

 

Chapter 7

            “Exactly what did I do to deserve this?” Allen groaned to his friend Kyle.

            “Man, you have it made! What are you complaining about?” Kyle returned.

            “Have it made? Have it made? I’m living with a super holy fighting nut that makes me work and beats me with in an inch of my life because he says it’s good for me! Then I have this Genji dude who would like nothing better then to rip my head off my head off my shoulders.”

            “And every girl in camp throwing themselves at you!” Kyle cut in.

            “Well yeah…there’s always that.” Allen knew that wasn’t exactly true, but it was pretty close. The place to find youth of the camp lay in the supply stockpile in the center of the camp and it was there Kyle and Allen were bound. Kyle was a little taller then Allen, and slightly broader. He kept his hair slicked back and wore a T-shirt and a leather jacket everywhere. He had seen such an outfit in an old movie once and had spent months trying to find all the pieces to the outfit before he had stumbled upon the old jacket in an out trunk of his father’s. The young people of the camp always volunteered to be the ones to load and unload the supplies when the camp moved and had piled the raw materials in such a way to make a large hidden room, in this room they kept things that no adult in camp was to ever see. The first and most treasured was the television. The Christians survived by scrounging and fixing old junk to sell, so their children had used these skills to piece together a TV (Despite all the changes to the world, Television had continued to be broadcast, though the already less family friendly programming had become even worse) and Kyle himself had found a CD player still in tacked. Allen had been able to procure some CDs when he left camp with Marten, adding to their library. All of this had to be taken apart and hidden each time the camp moved, in fact they had become quite good at it. The tube of the TV was the only piece that was hard to hide; it was rather large and easily broken. It would never do to have the adults find it; they felt that television was twenty percent topsider propaganda and eighty percent sin. On the bright side, the only signal they could get in this area of the slums was old reruns anyway. As they approached the hidden room they heard the sound of someone scurrying in the darkness.

            “Hey whoever!” Kyle called, “It’s just us.”

            The small face of one of the young teens appeared over a pile of beams. “Sorry guys, you startled me.”

            “No problem.” Allen said as they pushed the boxes that stood in front of the entrance and entered. The inside was dim, but on the other hand, in the slums, what wasn’t? About ten teens sat around on sacks or on the ground watching the TV. A few eyes looked up at them as they pulled the boxes back in front of the door.

            “Hey, I think we need to give the lookout a break, he seemed a little tired.” Allen said.

            Everyone looked around at each other. No one made a move. Allen walked over to one of the larger guys in the group.

            “Come on man, give the kid a break, ok?” Allen.

            “Well…” he hesitated, “Alright, but only for a little while.”

            “Yeah yeah yeah, that’s the spirit,” Said Kyle, pushing the guy out the door and taking his empty seat. Allen moved to sit between the two prettiest girls present and put his arm around one of them.

            “So where is everyone?” Allen asked.

            “I think they had a prayer meeting their parents wanted them to go to.” Said the girl he had his arm around.

            “And how did you get out of it?” he asked, playing with her hair.

            “Oh I did what you told me to do, I told them that all the people distracted me and that I was going to be by myself for a ‘quiet time’.” She giggled, “You were right, they not only let me skip it, they thought it was a great idea.”

            Allen had found out that ‘quiet time’ to these Christians meant they needed to go and pray by themselves, and for some odd reason was respected as something that not only should be done, but done more often and no one ever asked where or what you did, since you were supposed to be spending time pouring your heart out to God.

            “How do you get out of the meeting?” Asked the girl on the other side.

            “Marten doesn’t make me go.” Said Allen taking a cup of tea that a was offered to him, “He says that I shouldn’t be made to go. He feels that no one should be forced to God or something like that.”

            Tea was the universal drink around camp. Allen didn’t know how it was made; he had never thought to ask even though there was nothing to make it from. Regardless of whether Allen knew or not, it was drank hot, cold, and with every meal. Allen had become rather fond of it.

            Allen continued to laugh and joke with the group, the TV continued blare, and so did the CD player. After an hour or so, the news began to play. Kyle reached to change the channel but Allen waved him off and motioned for them to turn the CD player off. The report was on a rebellion taking place at one of the farm sectors. A heavily armed band hand somehow made it across the wilderness and set the slaves free. They switched to a security camera at the farm and showed footage of the man thought to be the rebel leader. The camera showed Government soldiers barricading a hatch. The sound of gunfire and swords could be heard. Suddenly, there was an explosion that tore the hatch from the wall and tossed it and the soldiers that stood near it into the far wall. Bursts of gunfire rang through the smoke and several soldiers fell where they stood. Strolling through the smoke came a man. He wore red military pants and a red tactical vest, but his muscle was clearly evident. His bare arms had rope wound them most of the way up his forearms; his arms had then been dipped in what looked like tar. Stuck in the tar were shards of glass. In one hand he carried an M-16, the standard Government Issue firearm, and in the other he carried an odd sword. The sword had a long thick one-sided blade that had no point; it ended as if the blade had been cut off half way. The sword had no hand guard and for a handle it was merely wrapped in cord. He wore his hair in a topknot, or at least what hair he had, the rest of his head was shaved. He walked through the smoke unafraid of the gunfire; stepping out into the open he shot the remaining guards. One jumped at him, using his gun as a club. The man blocked the attack with his sword and sent the man flying into the wall with a powerful round-kick. Tossing his gun down he grabbed the man’s collar and hauled the man up. Half sobbing, the man choked out a plead for his life. The man raised an eyebrow.

            “You ask me for mercy?” the man’s voice was low and rough, but surprisingly well spoken. “You have ruled over your brothers, and kept them as slaves even as you keep others rotting in the dark. No, I will not pass judgment on you.” The man’s face contorted in anger, “I will give you to your former prisoners! Ask them for mercy!” Turning he dragged the soldier back out of the hatch.

            “Whoa! I’d hate to be that guy.” Kyle said from across the room.

            “Did you see that fighter?” Allen asked awe filled, “I’m going to be like that some day!”

            “I wonder if Sir Marten knows him?” asked one of the younger guys in the room.

            “Well it’s not like we can ask him.” Said Allen, “But I’d love to meet someone like that.”

            “But he was killing people!” said the girl on his left.

            “Yeah, but he was letting the slaves go, freeing them.” Allen protested.

            “It’s too bad, the topsiders will have him strung up by his thumbs in a week.” Said Kyle, “They don’t take well to someone messing with their food supplies.”

            “Yeah, but hey, a guy like that might get away with it.”

            “Yeah…maybe.”

           

            The news ended and normal programming continued. Allen spent the rest of evening laughing and talking. Finally, word was passed to them that the pray meeting was breaking up which caused a general scuffle as everyone except Kyle and Allen ran to get home before they were missed by the rest of their families.

            Kyle shut the TV off and turned down the CD player. “You ever think that we should be doing more of what that guy on the news was doing?”

            Allen made a face, “Yeah, this ragged bunch of goodies is going to over run a fortified government farming complex.  Did you see that guy? His arms are thicker then legs. I’m not even sure if I’d call what you guys do here surviving, it’s more like dying slowly.”

            “Yeah…” said Kyle thoughtfully, “Hey, there are some great fighters in our camp! Look at Sir Marten; can you imagine what he was like twenty years back?”

            “That’s my point. All you have going for you is one old man who can fight. What happens in a few years, or heck, tomorrow if he dies? We need someone with power, real power. Someone that can do more then keeps a ragged band of crazy scavengers together. I don’t know about you, but if I ever run into that guy we saw you had better believe I’ll be joining.”

            “Man, if we can find that guy, I’ll come with you!”

            “I’ll hold you to that.”

Chapter 8

            Allen returned to the training tent and found the lights still on. Genji was performing a kata in the center of the room. Around his feet he wore ten-pound weighted sandals (Known as iron geta) and in each hand he held a wide mouthed jar. Genji’s wore no shirt; it was draped over the ropes that formed the ring. The veins in his arms stood out from the exertion and sweat ran down his face, past his closed eyes. His arms trembled as he performed each of the moves slowly. Allen’s face split into a mischievous smile and he snuck past him to the desk. Behind it was a pair of boards that Sir Marten kept for some odd reason had leaned there. Allen picked these up and stepped behind Genji. Allen bit his lip to stop from laughing and brought the boards together near Genji’s head. The smack the boards made split the air, surprising even Allen. Genji started and dropped the jars to the ground in shock, spilling the sand with in. He tried to spin but the sandals slowed his feet down and ended up throwing himself to the ground.

            Allen looked down at Genji, “Man you need to chill. You’re so uptight; you’re going to have gray hairs before you’re twenty!”

            “One of these days…” Genji started to say.

            “Oh lighten up!” Allen interrupted, “I need to get some sleep.” He tossed Genji’s shirt to him and walked over to his bed. At any moment he expected Genji to attack him from behind, but after a moment he heard Genji’s soft foot falls move away. Allen stood confused by this for a moment then he smiled. It all made sense, “He’s afraid of me!”

 

            Allen slept. That night his dreams were filled with battle. Not street fights or gang wars like he had known, but instead a real battle. One where there was more at stake then an individual’s life and more of a goal then simply killing an enemy. In his dream he was being lead by the man he had seen on the news report. The man waded through the battle knocking guns away from his enemies with his bare hands. So people find such dreams of death and chaos disturbing, but not Allen. Here there was glory. Allen was feeling the mysterious force that has lead young men to war for years. For glory and for something bigger then one’s self.

 

            The next morning (or rather, eight hours later, remember the light never changed) Allen was shaken awake and found Sir Marten bent over him.

            “Allen, you’d sleep all day if I let you, but you can’t today or for a few days after this.” Allen dropped his legs over the side of his cot and sat up.

            “Excuse me sir,” he said yawning, “How come I always seem to go to bed before you and you are always up first? Don’t knights sleep?”

            “Yes Allen, knights sleep, but something that you don’t do, knights work. Something you should try sometime. That is not what I need to talk to you about right now. Here,” Marten handed Allen a chipped cup with a steaming yellow liquid in it. Seeing Allen’s face wrinkle a rare smile twitched on his lips, “It’s green tea, it’s good for you.”

            Allen took a sip and made a face, “Where do you get green tea in the Slums?”

            Marten waved the comment off, “Now Allen I’m leaving the compound for a short time. I don’t know how long it will take, it might be a few days, so I’ve left instructions with Genji as to what to do. If you can’t get along with him, there is a list on the desk. As for food, Kei will be bringing lunch, and for dinner I have worked it out with Elder Simon and his family. He has a son about your age named Kyle.”

            “Yeah I’ve met him. By the way, can I ask what you will be doing out there?”

            “No you may not.”

            “Ah ha, Ok.”

           

            Allen got up and finished his green tea. To him it was rather nasty. When Marten left, he put a scoop of sugar in it and it made it almost drinkable. He wondered over to the desk and looked at the list there. Allen was sure it was the list since there was only one piece of paper anyway. The sheet was covered in Marten’s firm bold handwriting. Shrugging he started out to find Kyle to read it to him, because he’s be darned if he was going to talk to Genji this early in the morning. He found Kyle, who was busy with his father, so Allen retuned to the tent and decide to train even though Marten hadn’t told him to. On the way there he passed Genji’s family’s tent. Out back an older man was splitting apart a wooden frame. It struck Allen that this man looked like an older Genji, except for the eyes. Genji had eyes that seemed to burn holes in everything he looked at, this man’s eyes seemed dead and slightly unfocused. As Allen approached the man shifted to look at him, but it was as if he was looking through him. Allen wondered if the man was blind for a moment, but the ax that the man was swinging was continuing to fall on it’s intended without error. Allen was unnerved by this man and hurried on. On the side of the tent was a thick pole with one end buried in the ground. The top part had been wrapped in what looked like old carpet foam. Standing facing the pole, with his back to Allen was Genji. Genji fists flew, striking the pole again and again. Already this hands were bleeding, but it seemed as if the pain only mad him strike harder. Allen broke to a trot, he hadn’t seen Genji’s face, but he didn’t feel like a confrontation this morning. Returning to the tent he found Kei already there with a basket. She was bent over the desk reading the list there.

            “Hey! Good morning!” He called to her.

            She looked up, “It’s almost afternoon. Here, I brought you some lunch. Where were you anyway?”

            “Me? Oh just taking a walk.”

            “Did you talk to Genji about what to do?”

            “No,” said Allen, “He looked a little ticked at the moment.”

            “So when are you going to get started?” she asked.

            “I haven’t even read it yet, what does he want me to do?” said Allen.

            “Here,” she held up the paper for him to see.

            Allen turned away and changed the subject, “So how long is he normally gone?”

            “Sometimes a day, sometimes a week.”

            “Don’t you ever ask him what he does out there? I mean it’s not safe to wonder the slums alone, even for someone like him.” Allen picked up the basket and looked through it. The smell of fresh bread wafted up.

            “All he’ll ever say is that he’s doing research. It’s normally on these trips that he ends up bringing people back.” Kei looked worried, “And it’s normally when he comes back wounded.”

            “I take it he does that often, I mean bring people back?”

            “No, not really, but if he were going to it’d be on one of these trips.” Kei looked away and then looked back, “But he left you a lot to do so you had better get started.”

            She turned and started to walk away, but Allen called her back. “Kei,” Allen realized that this was the first time he had used her name to her face, “Do me a favor and read the list for me real quick.”

            “Allen I have to go have my lunch, you read it yourself.”

            “I can’t read.”

The words escaped his mouth before he could close his lips over them. Kei froze.

            “You can’t read!”

            “Shhh!” Allen took her elbow and moved her away from the door.

            “This is another of your tricks.” Kei accused.

            Allen’s face burned, “No this isn’t a trick. I never learned. There was no point, you can’t eat books; you can sell them or burn them but that doesn’t require being able to read them. Out there I spent more time trying to keep safe and fed then anything else. You’ve got to read the list to me, if you don’t I won’t have this stuff done before Marten gets back, and everyone will end up knowing about this.” He paused, “You aren’t going to tell anyone are you?”

            “Of course not. But you know you can’t keep it a secret forever, some time Marten or someone else will want you to read something and you’ll be found out.”

            A sly thought came to Allen’s mind, “Only one problem, I can’t learn without making a fool of myself…Whoa I just had an idea! You could teach me!”

            “I think not.” Said Kei giving him a disdainful glance.

            “But Kei, you are the only one who knows, so you are the only one I can trust, and you’re always in here doing stuff for Sir Marten anyway, so no one will notice if you are teaching me.” Allen put his hand on her shoulder and bent his so they were eye to eye. Kei knocked his hand away and started to walk around him.

            “Ok I understand, you are too busy to teach a guy to read. Hey I’ve made it this far; maybe I’ll run into someone who’ll take pity on me. Don’t worry about it.”

            Kei stopped at the flap of the tent and turned, “After I finish lunch I’ll read the list for you and if I have time after my chores I’ll show you, but you had better be done with yours.” Then she turned and was gone.

 

            Kei returned a little later and read the list to Allen, who committed it to memory, because it was clear she would not be pleased to keep stopping and rereading it to him. Allen finished his chores in record time. Some of the adults who saw him charging around, racing to finish would turn to their fellow and say comment that maybe there was hope for Allen after all. Allen collapsed back at the tent. After he caught his breath he realized that his lunch was still sitting on Marten’s desk untouched. Allen changed his soiled shirt and sat down at the desk. He had been hungry when he had gotten up, but in his hast to finish his work, he had forgotten his hunger.

            “Another good reason not to do work.” He said to himself. Allen tore into the food; he never got over how good it was. The bread was light and crisp, there was cold meat to go with it, and sweet tea.

            He was just brushing the crumbs off his lap when Kei walked back through the tent flaps.

            “Haven’t you moved yet?” She asked accusingly. Allen looked around; yeah this was the same spot he had been in when she had left.

            “No no no! I just sat back down. I finished a few minutes ago.” He said quickly.

            “Oh.” She walked to the far end of the room and dragged a chair over to the desk. She removed a piece of paper and put it on the desk.

            “Now,” she said taking on a very teacher like voice, “What don’t you know?

            Allen’s brow furrowed in confusion. What didn’t he know?

            Seeing the look on Allen’s face she interrupted before he could speak, “I guess that isn’t a fair question. You can’t know what you don’t know, so I’ll start at the beginning. Do you know the English alphabet?”

            Allen thought about it, “I think I might have once.” He replied, “It had sort of a little song like thing I’d say it with.”

            “Right.” She quickly covered the sheet in letters. “There are 26 of them. From different combinations of them we are able to make words. Then there are five vowels, a-e-i-o-u, these are in all words…

            “Why?”

            “Why what?” She asked surprised.

            “Why are there those letters in every word?”

            “Because the sound they make always appears in words.”

            “No is doesn’t. How do you know for example that a word has a “you” in it and not a “Double you” they sound the same to me only it’s a single and a double?”

            “No, a W doesn’t sound like a U.” she paused, “I mean when you say the letter they sound the same, but when you read them they sound different.” She stopped, that wasn’t what she meant.

            “But I just read it off the page. You said that this,” he pointed to the “W” printed near the bottom, “was a “Double You”, it looks more like a double V to me.”

            “No Allen, the W makes a noise like…” she thought for a moment, “Water, or wise.”

            “Then why don’t we call it ‘Wa’ instead, that way we won’t get confused?”

            “I’m not confused!” Kei stormed, “and no you can’t go and rename the letters. Just accept what I say ok?”

            “Ok sure,” said Allen still slightly confused, “I was just trying to figure it out.”

            “Well don’t!” Kei snapped. Then she looked at him and realized that he wasn’t making fun of her. She relaxed. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know these basics. “I don’t know why the letters are called what they are called, but you have to learn them the same way everyone else knows them if you want to understand them ok?” She said more softly.

            “Ok.”

The rest of the lesson went like that. Kei would tell him something, and he would ask a questions that caught her unprepared, especially when she got to lower case letters. Allen would grow frustrated with his lack of knowledge, and become a difficult student, but still Kei had to admit, he was quick, by the time she left, he had the alphabet memorized and remembered most of the sounds the letters made.

 

            Marten didn’t return for another week. During that time, Kei and Allen kept working together in secret. Kei started reading to him as she followed the words on the page with her finger so he could make the connection between the written and the spoken. At night, Allen would practice copying things from books to practice forming the letters, then show them to her in the morning when she came to see him. Marten returned one day without warning at the gate to the camp. He was pale, his right eye was swollen shut, and he had a slash across his left arm. He told them they must break camp at once and head at least five or six miles into the wilderness. The broken down truck still wasn’t fixed, so he gave orders to have it pushed along with the rest of the camp. Fear gripped the youth of the camp and emergency plans were executed to make sure that the “contra ban” was hidden. The bad part was that it was Allen’s turn to hid the TV tube. Allen grabbed a box, dumped the content, and made a mad dash the rapidly disintegrating pile of supplies in the center of camp. He dived through the entranceway and saw everything else was already gone and the rest of the components of the TV packed. The tube sat wrapped in a piece of cloth in the center of the room. He scoped it up and put it in the box then dodged back out just as someone started to remove the roof. Allen found one of the running trucks, and moved towards it find some place to hide his charge when he heard Marten’s voice calling him.

            “Allen I need you!”

            “Just a second.” He called back and started to run towards the truck.

            “Just throw it, I need you now!”

            “ Can’t, I’ll be there in a minute.”

            “Why, what’s in it?” Marten asked.”

            “Just clothes.” He lied.

            “Then throw it, they’ll be ok.”

            Allen had no choice but to throw the glass tube in it’s box into the steel back of the truck. He could hear if it broke over the sound of the engine.

            “Allen, take this.” Marten had caught up to him and thrust the handle of a katana into his hand. “We are going to need to hold off the enemies until the camp is clear.”

            Allen and Marten joined Genji and about ten other men at the edge of the camp. Kyle’s father Simon was among them. Simon carried a big double-headed ax. The head was wielded right to the metal pole that was its handle. Allen marveled at it. It must have weighed an enormous amount.

            “Hey boy, now you are going to thank Marten for all the exercise he had you do, isn’t he Marten.” The big man boomed. “You must have really gotten them mad this time, “ he pointed along the path and Allen saw a group of men with all sorts of weapons came rushing out of the darkness. There were at least twenty that could be seen, who knew how many still crouched in the dark. Allen didn’t feel as tense as the last time he had fought with Marten. This was more his style, here came a gang, and here he was with his gang…more or less. The attackers didn’t pause, but immediately threw themselves into the fight. Allen didn’t even try to follow Marten or Genji after the first clash, he single-mindedly focused on the enemy at hand, though he did hope that they were watching him, he meant to make up for his blunder with the Surgeons. He found himself faced with a large man in a greasy leather jacket with the sleeves torn off and a big ugly beard. The man had what looked like an old parking meter. Allen unsheathed his sword (something he should have done before this) and stepped in to attack. The man hauled back and swung the meter with impressive force. Allen blocked the blow, but the force nearly hammered his sword out of his hands. His arms ached from the reverberation, and it was all he could do to hold onto his sword. While his arms recovered he sent a kick to the man’s knee, then without touching his foot to the ground he flicked his foot up to smack his opponent’s face. The man’s nose broke under the kick, and the man lurched forward while Allen was still standing on one foot and hit him with his shoulder. Allen was knocked off balance and hit the ground heavily. The man was on him immediately. He brought the cut off parking meter over his head and brought it down to smash Allen’s prone form. Allen saw the blow coming and skidded to one side, he reached his hand across his chest to strike the side of the makeshift hammer redirecting it so it smashed into the ground beside him. His body followed the same line of motion, keeping his hand on the back of the meter; he twisted and caught the man by his collar and threw him over his back to land in front of where his weapon had impacted. Allen put him out of the fight with a sharp kick, and blocked a blow he had felt coming more then saw from another attacker. He grabbed the hand holding the knife he had deflected and with a jerk, used it to stab another man getting the better of one of the Christian’s near him. Then he jerked the arm up, breaking the arm at the elbow and kicked the man’s legs out from under him. A light struck him in the face and he squinted to see what was the cause. An open backed Jeep came roaring into sight. In the back was a mounted machine gun.

            “Scatter!” Marten’s voice cracked across the field.

            Simon stood calmly in the Jeeps path raising his ax over his head as if he would chop it as it reached him. Allen called out a warning. But it wasn’t necessary, for Simon heaved and threw his ax at the windshield of the oncoming vehicle and ducked out of the way. The heavy ax flew straight threw the windshield and impaled the driver. The Jeep spun out of control, and Allen saw Marten leap on the back. The gunner was stunned by the crazy motion, but managed to swing his gun around to fire at Marten. Three bullets caught Marten across the chest, and the force nearly knocked him off the side of the Jeep, but somehow he managed to catch the side, and stabbed the gunner with his sword that he had miraculously managed to hold on to. With no one at the wheel the Jeep stalled and cam to a stop. Allen and Genji were already running after it before it stopped. Both feared for Marten. During the fight, the Christian camp had finished packing and was disappearing into the unlit wilderness. Marten fell over the side of the stopped Jeep and called to his men to retreat. It was unnecessary, because everyone had broken to chase their fallen leader anyway. When Allen and Genji got to the Jeep, Marten had disposed of the driver’s body and was cranking the engine up.

            “Get in!” he roared.

            Genji jumped in the passenger seat, while the rest of them grabbed a hold of sides or in the back. It was rather ridicules seeing ten men crammed in and onto a four seat Jeep, but reinforcements had arrived and no one felt like walking.

            “Are you alright sir?” Genji asked Marten.

            “Yes Genji, bruised but not wounded. You remember that roll of Kevlar we found a few months back?”

            Genji nodded.

            “I had your mother sew it into a shirt I wear under my clothes. And I just proved that it must be the good stuff.” Marten smiled a rare smile, “But I’d normally try to avoid field test’s like that.”

            They caught up with the rest of camp a few miles out. Among the camp defenders, there was only flesh wounds, and Allen was proud that he had only some sore muscles, and through it all he had managed to hang on to his sword; no small feat when you are trying to hold onto an over crowded Jeep at high speeds.

            Simon was examining the gun mounted in the back. He let out a low whistle, “Who did you tick off this time Marten? These guys were packing some real firepower. Look at this ammo, it’s brand new.” He held up a brass-cased bullet that sparkled in the lantern light. Marten said nothing. Simon didn’t notice, “I think we did rather well out of the whole deal. We’ve got a Jeep in good condition, except for the lack of a windshield, and a machine gun with it looks like a hundred rounds of ammo.”

            “And the fact your battle ax went through the driver’s seat and is still lodged in the spare tire.” Said on of the other men, looking at the damage Simon’s throw had caused to the Jeep.

            Kyle came running up and grabbed Allen’s arm. “Hey man how was it? You guys caught a Jeep? Do you think Marten will let you have the gun…what happened to the insides of the Jeep? …Did my dad do that?”

            Allen laughed, “Yeah, your dad has a good arm. Remember this next time you want to disobey him.” Allen looked at his thin friend, “Are you sure you are related to him?” Allen saw Genji getting off and walked over to him, “So, not bad this time huh?”

            “At least this time I didn’t have to save you.” Said Genji before walking off.

            “You’re right.” Said Kyle as he walked up to Allen, “Genji doesn’t like you.”

 

 

            Allen decided to attend the Meeting that night. After all, he had been one of the heroic defenders, and he wanted to make sure everyone remembered it. He regretted the decision almost immediately. All the people did was sing songs he didn’t know and didn’t want to learn, then they all just sat there as Marten read something Allen wasn’t listening to and then talked even more about what he read. As Allen and the rest of the congregation left, Allen reminded himself not to try this one again.

            One of the other youths caught up with him and asked in a quiet voice, “So Allen, where’d you stash the tube?”

            The memory of his rushed deposit of the fragile glass tube shot back through Allen’s mind. “Uh…don’t worry about,” he answered, “I’ve got it hidden.” Allen increased his pace. He needed to go check on it.

            After eluding the people leaving the Meeting, Allen slipped among the trucks near the center of camp. Since no one lived in the center, there were no lights here. Allen tried to move silently, but the ground was covered in the dead stubble once living grass and it gave a rustling crunch as his feet turned the old plant fibers into dust. He stumbled over an old rotted tree stump and fell into a rather squashy clump of mushrooms. He pulled himself into a sitting position. Looking up he stared into the darkness. Ironically, despite the fact he had been raised in the darkness there had always been the lights shining down from the bottom of the plate. At once it revealed what was below and concealed what was above, since when you looked up at the lights you could divine nothing of what was above them. Now, with the lights removed he looked up into the blackness. It was the very absence of light, but as he stared he could make out the faint lines of the super structure. When he was young, he had wondered if the images of sun and plant life were really like what he saw on TV or if it was just someone’s beautiful dream. A few people in the slums had told him stories, but they had lived during the war, and though things were better then life now, it was still pretty bad.

Allen came back to himself with a start, he had a job to do. Cursing, he drew a candle out of his pocket and lit it. He shielded the light with his hand, and climbed to his feet.

Moving more carefully, he made his way among the parked trucks. After a moment, he found the correct truck and climbed into the bed. He moved aside bags of clothes and other personal items that hadn’t been claimed yet, and would most likely be left until they set up camp for more then the night. Finally he found the box. Leaning over, he pulled it out of the mess slowly. The he heard the tinkle of broken glass as he shook the box. Allen swore and ripped open the top. As he had feared, the glass tube had shattered from being thrown onto the steel bed of the truck. Allen closed the box and sunk down onto the pile and put his hands over his face. Allen ground his teeth as his heart sank, he had been in charge of the single most popular thing these kids owned, and he had broken it. He was sure Genji would make sure they didn’t forget it either. He was finished.

“Are you ok?” Kei’s voice startled Allen out of his state of shock.

“What? …er…yeah, I’m fine, I was getting something and I got lost in thought.” He said awkwardly.

“Do you normally do that with your hands of your face?” asked Kei.

Allen shot her sour look as he walked back to lighten portion of the camp. It was as bad things looked he decided. Since the campus on the move the kids would not risky setting up their things since was no point in having to dismantle it four or five times as they moved. But he did mean that he had to find this a replacement and quickly! 

 

Allen's chance came sooner than he wished. Two days after finding the smashed tube, the raggedy band’s wanderings took them through old burned-out city. The charred gutted skeletons of buildings still soared high overhead.

"I'll bet some of them even touch the Continental Plate!"  Allen thought to himself.

This creature strings overturned cars and chunks of buildings and fallen down due to an age and the ravages of war.  Marten ordered camp to be set up in the town square.  The barbwire was placed across the streets between buildings. The scavengers from camp swarmed over the overturned cars around the camp stripping them of any useful parts.  The pickings were lean, one or two good tires, two radios, and one battery with some life still in it.  Martin decided to stay here for a while since the area seemed safe and the pickings were promising.  Allen realized that both his time was up but his salvation might be near hand. 

It was Martin's customs to send out scouting parties in all directions before he allow the rest of the people to scavenge. And Allen uses only chance to look for new tube without a hundred eyes following his every motion. Allen sat contemplating his plan of action, when the Kei walked through the flaps off the tent for his daily reading lesson.  Grunting Allen made up his mind and arose.

“I can't have my reading lesson today” he announced.

Kei raised eyebrow.

Allen looked down his feet for moment and then looked back at Kei. Filling his voice with sound of worry and depression, he said, “I guess I need to trust you.  I'm in trouble.  The rest of the guys trusted me with the picture tube, during retreat it was shattered.”

“I'm sorry Allen,” said Kei, “but why are you telling me?”

“Because if I try to sneak out to find a new one, there will be questions asked, but if you come with me, the sentries won’t have a problem. If they ask, you could tell them you were doing something for Marten and no one will check.”

Kei flushed, “No! I’m not going to come and lie for you!”

            Allen swore mentally, “I’m losing her!” He thought as his mind raced. Outwardly, he let his face show shock and confusion. His mind seized on a plan, and he soothingly said, “No, that came out wrong, what I meant is that no one will have a problem with the two of us leaving camp. They will assume that we are on an errand and will forget about us.”

            “That’s not what you said.” Said Kei frowning.

            “That’s what I meant. If I planned on lying, I wouldn’t involve you in it.” He sighed again, “I’m just trying to do what I said I’d do. It hasn’t been easy adjusting to life here, but I’m trying. Will you help me?”

            As he had planned, his plead drew her attention from his hastily conjured cover. Kei hesitated, but she wasn’t thinking about his sudden change of plan, but weighing the best possible plan to get out of camp undetected.

            Kei’s brow cleared, and a smile appeared. “Ok” she said.

            Allen had already packed the things he thought he would need, a lamp that burned alcohol, the sword Marten had let him use in the attack (which he was only supposed to keep for long enough to sharpen and clean, but he had hung on to it for this reason, and everyone else was to busy to notice), and a set of screwdrivers and pliers to extract the tube.  Kei left him to change into something more suited for sneaking around in the dark, telling him to meet her at a certain entrance. That was fine with Allen, he didn’t care which direction he started out in, and one way was as good as the next as long as he found what he wanted.

            Kei rejoined him a few minutes later. She had pulled her black hair back into a ponytail and now wore dark baggy pants belted with a black sash and a black top. Stuck through the sash was her long Tai Chi sword.

            Allen frowned, “Why did you bring that?” he pointed to the sword.

            Kei raised an eyebrow and said, “Why are you bringing your sword?”

            “For protection.”

            “Same here.”

            “But you don’t need one while I have mine, besides, people might wonder about you going around armed.” Allen fumed.

            Kei’s eyes narrowed, “Last time I checked, I was better with a sword.”

            “Hey I just…” his voice trailed off, “Whatever, fine bring it, but you have to explain it to anyone who asks!”

            “I thought that was the reason you needed me in the first place.” Said Kei coolly.

            “What is it about you and your family!” he fumed, but silently, he didn’t feel like offending her at the last minute.

            They approached the gate, and one of the men on duty noticed them approaching. Allen felt his heart sink as he waved them over.

            “What are you two up to?” the man asked warmly. Unknown to Allen, these men were about to be relieved, and so were tired and feeling talkative. Allen opened his mouth, but Kei cut in and began a friendly dialog about her morning activities, how she had helped her mother prepare breakfast, had taken Martian’s and Allen’s meal over, and other numerous chores. The man nodded good-naturedly at all this and remarked something about his children. Kei asked polite questions for a moment, and then tapping Allen’s lantern told him simply “We are going out.”

            “Oh yeah, sorry.” The man replied and opened a hole in the barbed wire. Kei wished him a good day, and dragging Allen behind her disappeared into the darkness beyond.

 

            “That was impressive!” Allen told her as they walked. He had lit the lantern and they moved in its circle of light. When in total darkness, even a small light seems to cast more light then normal. They could make out the border of buildings on either side of the street, and see it glimmer off broken glass that was beyond their range of vision. The only sound in the more or less empty streets was the sound of their voices. In fact, it was this that prompted them to speak; even Kei who wasn’t normally much for idle conversation was chatting, seemingly more to hear her own voice and to prompt Allen to respond then for any need to communicate.

            “I learned that so long as you look like you belong somewhere, no one even bothers to ask what you are doing. That and if you talk to them about things they don’t care about they will gladly speed you on your way.”

            Allen paused. “To down…town.” He read off of a still standing sign.

A pleased smile lit Kei’s face, “That’s great Allen!” Then teasingly she added, “Why can’t you ever seem to read when I try to make you?”

“Because if I ever get good at reading, I’ll lose an excuse to spend time with a hot girl.”

“Like you need an excuse, I see you with a different girl all the time.”

Allen opened his mouth, then shut it again, a thought dawned on him. “I never knew you spent time stalking me.”

“I…” Kei cast about for a good retort, but finding none, she simply said, “Shut up.”

A muffled bark and the tapping sound of claws on pavement came from somewhere ahead of them in the darkness. Allen fumbled with his sword’s hilt, and saw that Kei had already drawn hers.

“What was that?” Kei asked.

“I can’t be sure, there are a ton of weird things out here,” said Allen, “but it’s most likely just some Mad Hounds.” Seeing Kei’s confused face he added, “They’re the decedents of stray dogs left here when the Plate System was built. They were altered by the toxins that were down here, so they’re all sick and crazy.”

“Why don’t you sound worried?” asked Kei.

“From what I’ve been told,” said Allen, “light really scares them, that’s why they stay away from the slums. So as long as we have this,” he waved the light, “we shouldn’t even get to see one.”

They continued down the street. They peered through the smashed windows of shops looking for anything that looked like it was undisturbed. After poking around in an electronic store for a while Kei turned to Allen and said,

“This is taking too long, we haven’t found a single working anything! Someone is going to notice we are gone if we don’t hurry up.”

Allen rose from a pile of smashed shelves. “Look what I found!” he shouted.

“You found a television?” Kei asked.

“No, but I found a copy of what looks like the Matrix!” he said holding up a slightly defaced DVD case.

Kei buried her face in her hands. After a moment they were back on the street walking. Allen found a TV, but it must have been thrown from a window high above, for it was impaled on a parking meter. As Allen examined it, Kei tugged on his arm and said excitedly,

“Look, a Mall!”

Allen turned and squinted into the darkness, “Where? I can’t see anything.”

Kei pointed to a large sign that Allen was nearly leaning on.

“Oh.” Said Allen flushing.

 

As they got closer, they first saw one of many parking garages that the Mall once sported to handle its crush of customers. They walked around the giant building, and were disappointed to find all the entrances they came across blocked by metal grills to keep looters out. However, Allen found an area of wall that had been smashed from a bomb exploding against the building. The picked their way through the rubble and as Kei reached the top, and entrance into the interior, Allen called to her. He pointed to a metal pole sticking out of the concrete rubble.

“That’s a tank nozzle!” He said excitedly, “If we could dig down we could get to the tank!” An image of him returning to the compound with a tank rushed through his mind. Let Genji try to top that!

“Allen, each of these pieces weigh more then four of us, and don’t you think the tank might have been damaged when whatever it was that hit it and this wall blew up.

Allen sighed, “Oh well…it would have been cool.”

He climbed up with her and peered into the dark inside. The building had taken more damaged then it looked like from outside. Bombs must have hit from above. “At the same time,” Allen reflected, “It looked like people had stayed away from it, so if something wasn’t smashed, it wouldn’t be stolen already.”

 

Stepping into the gapping hole, Allen flashed the lamp around, revealing a rubble-strewn corridor. The sheets of glass that had lined the way to entice customers to buy the wares displayed there were shattered by the concussion of the blast that had tore the opening they were now entering through. Allen was careful to avoid the shards and gave his hand to Kei to help her do the same. In the dark moist environment of the Slums, a scratch could as deadly as any other wound because of infection. They stopped and looked at a clothing store, but the single lamp made it hard to make out colors, and they didn’t stay long. For some reason being enclosed as they were caused them to speak in hushed tones, the echoes were disturbing to hear and gave the impression that they were not alone. Taking Kei’s arm, Allen hurried them from one storefront to another looking for a store that had once sold electronics. As they moved on ward, the surroundings became more and more crumbled and Allen was less sure of how sturdy things were. The crunching sound of their feet grinding chips of concrete blotted out the sound of the echoes. Suddenly, Allen spun, ripping his sword from its scabbard. Kei’s blade also lept out as she twisted on her feet like a cat at the sign of his motion. Allen stood staring into the darkness for a long moment.

Kei looked at him after a moment had passed without so much as drop of water falling. “What’s wrong?” She said.

“I thought I heard a voice.” Said Allen still staring blindly out of the circle of light his lantern cast.

“It was just an echo.” Said Kei half relieved half annoyed. She put her blade away. Almost as if to prove her point, the last word she had spoken came back faintly “…an echo…”

Just as Allen was about to argue that no one had said anything for quite a while, Kei grabbed his arm and pointed toward the wall. “Look!” she exclaimed, “An electronics store.”

Forgetting his misgivings, Allen entered the shop, hoping that his mission was finally over. Looking around he saw shattered computer screens, cameras scattered on the floor, and it looked like the ceiling had collapsed near the back. The bones of a human leg stuck out from under the rubble, and clinging to its foot was the remains of a dress shoe. But Allen barely noticed any of this because what he saw before him. It was a 20 inch flat screen TV. Allen now saw himself not just saving himself from the shame of loosing the picture tube, but coming home a hero. With this, they could easily hid it and in one piece. It could be carried in a backpack. Also, as he thought a moment afterward, it would make sneaking it back into camp easier too.

Calling Kei over (who was examining the foot) he showed her the set he had found, and they set about breaking the chain attached to it to prevent its theft.

“Don’t worry sir.” Said Allen addressing the foot, “We’ll just take the display model. I mean, the price is right.” Pausing, he added, “What is your return policy here?”

Kei laughed and shook her head, “You are so weird.” But she said is warmly.

Allen looked up, “Do you sell extended warrantees on these?” Waiting a moment he followed that with “Sir if you are going to be that way about this, I will have to speak to your manager!” Allen wasn’t sure what a warranty was, but Kei seemed to get a kick out of it. Stooping, he set his lantern down and swung his backpack to the ground. Gathering up the power cord, he stowed the unit and closed flap on the pack.

“Hey Kei.” Said Allen, “Thanks, for coming with me and all that. I realize I tick you and your family off pretty bad, but you’ve been good to me since I arrived.”

Kei blushed at his gratitude, “You don’t upset me. You are just kind of rough around the edges, and I sometimes am a little shocked.” She paused, “But you are welcome, we should probably…”

“What do you think you are doing?” An angry voice cut across the otherwise silent air. Allen and Kei spun in alarm at the sudden sound. Standing just outside of the storefront stood a shadowed figure. Striking something together, the figure produced a brilliantly flaming flare, which he held up so the light fell across his face. Genji’s cold features could be made out. He dropped the flare to the floor and strode forward. “How dare you take my sister out camp and into the wilderness!” He accused. “And I doubt you have Marten’s permission either. Once again you show contempt and stupidity.”

Allen’s shock had worn off and now he rolled his eyes, “Just when I thought my day was going well, once again you show up. What’s the matter Genji, got tired of gesturing in the mirror so you had to come and find someone to posture to? Why don’t you go annoy your friends…oh wait.” Allen paused, “you don’t have any!”

“I wasn’t taken,” said Kei annoyed, “I decided to go with him. And come to think of it, do you have Marten’s permission?”

Genji flinched. His eyes narrowed, he turned to her, “You have no right to ask anything. You sneak off with a street punk who can’t even spell the word morals, let alone have them in mind without so much as a chaperone. Be glad it was I an not Marten that found you like this.”

Allen had lived with insults and put downs his whole life, but he for some reason the jabs about his lack of schooling seemed to hit home. “Listen you self-righteous, inbred bastard. You had better start walking before I show you what would happens to cocky morons on the streets.”

Genji smirked, “If I remember right, you required a whole street gang to rob a single young mother. If my sister wasn’t present I would show you how pathetic you are!”

“Stop it Genji.” Kei cried out angrily.

“Quiet!” He said harshly. “You are coming home with me now!” reaching out, he caught hold of her roughly and started to yank her towards the doorway.

Allen strod forward to stop him, but as he did Genji’s foot lashed out and caught him across the middle. “Stay away from her!”

“That’s it sucker.” Allen growled. He was done with exchanging insults and dirty tricks; it was time to take Genji down a notch. Unlike before, Allen did not lunge at Genji, nor did he take a swing at Genji’s face. His last encounter with Genji had taught him that Genji would be expecting that. Instead he faked a left punch, then dropped and swept Genji’s legs. Allen was rewarded as his move caught Genji totally off guard. Still holding onto Kei, Genji held on to her for support and as a result both fell. But Genji didn’t remain down for long. As he hit the ground, he pushed off with his hands, and launched a flying kick back toward Allen. Allen threw his arms up to block the attack, but the force of it knocked him backward into a display. Genji used to recoil from his attack to throw a spinning crescent kick that lashed Allen across the face. Allen’s body twisted with the force, but he managed to grab the leg as it swept by and still holding it, twist his body behind Genji’s for a hook kick to the head. Genji was knocked down from the blow, and Allen had no intentions of letting him get back up. Speeding to Genji’s side, he stomped him where he lay on the ground. Genji doubled up. Allen brought his foot down again, but even as he heard Genji gurgle pitifully, Genji grabbed his leg and pulled, knocking Allen off balance and causing him to fall on top of Genji.

Or he would have fallen on top of him, that is, if Genji had remained there. Genji rolled to his feet and caught the falling Allen with an upper cut that flipped him so he fell on his back, instead of his face. Blood splattered from Allen’s face. Allen turned over and tried to rise, but he was to dizzy and fell to all fours. Genji closed on him and kicked him in the ribs so hard it lifted Allen off the ground. Allen’s hand closed over a pile of dust and rubble. As Genji closed again, he turned and threw this into Genji’s face. Genji reacted as most people do when something affects their eyes, he stopped, he bent slightly, and his hands flew to his eyes. Allen jumped to his feet and struck Genji’s frozen form again and again. He felt ribs give way under his onslaught. He landed a right hook to Genji’s head, which sent the young man staggering deeper into the store. Genji looked up at Allen through dirt crusted eyes.

“You cheated!” he growled.

“Sorry chump, that is how the game is played on the streets.” Allen jeered. Grabbing Genji’s collar, he brought his knee up into the fighter’s middle. Genji gasped in pain as the breath left his body. But at the same time, his training took hole of him, and he saw that so long as both Allen’s hands held him, he couldn’t block. He struck a nerve that released the hold of one hand while twisting and locking the wrist of the other. He brought his leg and planted a powerful side kick into Allen which sent him flying into the wall at the back of the shop. He struck it and stumbled forward. He threw a punch at Genji, but Genji caught it. Rage twisted Genji’s face, as the force of the kick he threw twisted his body. The low lining kick slammed into Allen, snapping his leg at the knee. Allen gasped as the pain caught up with him. He tried to put weight on the broken bone, but he simply cork-screwed, and ended up in a heap on the floor.

Standing above him with blood running down his proud face Genji looked down and said, “That is how I play the game…chump.”

Kei had already been on the move to try to stop the two of them from fighting, but as she lunged toward Genji, she felt the walls and floor shake. Genji too looked up in shock. This portion of the mall had taken more damage then the rest and their fighting had shaken what little support was left loose. As Kei collided with her brother, the sky fell.

 

Chapter 9

 

            Kei struck Genji hard, but Genji twisted and flung her on top of Allen’s curled up form, causing a gurgle to rise in Allen’s throat. Bringing up his hands to head height, Genji  hunched forward and tried to shield her as the ceiling disintegrated. Genji’s body deflected some of the smaller chunks, but a slab of concrete knocked him senseless. However, his body fell draped over Kei and most of Allen, so it once again shielded them. The lantern was struck, and they were plunged into darkness.

            “Suddenly the joke about the clerk’s foot isn’t as funny” thought Allen. Movement was pain. Having two people sitting on you right after having your leg broken isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but trying to pull yourself out from under them is worse. He could feel Kei also trying to untangle herself from her brother’s limp form.

            “You ok?” he asked.

            “Yes,” She gasped.

            “How about him?” Allen asked.

            “He’s breathing, but I can’t tell anything else.” Kei offered up a prayer of thanks for her brother’s life, for all their lives. The best she could tell (and it wasn’t very well) is that a portion of ceiling must have come down whole, and fell against the wall, forming a small area of protection for them.

            “Lucky him.” Said Allen referring to her brother. “At least he gets to be knocked out.”

            “Stop whining!” Kei ordered, “Help me shift some of this rubble so we can get out.”

            “Whining?” Allen asked in disbelief, “My toes are touching my thigh. Last time I checked, you couldn’t do that. You are lucky I’m not blacking out!” The last part came out as more of a scream. He heard Kei gasp in surprise at his out burst. Calming down somewhat Allen continued, “After he broke it, I fell and it twisted. When he threw you on top, it twisted it farther.” In the slums, Allen learned young to suppress outcries, but at the same time he was surprised at his own stoicism. Moving his hands down carefully, he felt his leg. Shards of bone had punched through the skin, and he felt his warm blood on his hands. He heard Kei whispering another prayer. Once again the old bitterness rose in him.

            “What are you doing?” Allen asked angrily.

            “Praying.” Kei replied.

            “So your God is going to save us? You guys say he knows the future right?”

            “Yes and…”

            “So why did he let us get buried in the first place, then he would have to go to the trouble of saving us later. Or why didn’t he misdirect your moron brother, and then this wouldn’t have happened in the first place?” Said Allen cutting her off.

            “I don’t know why he allows things to happen,” Began Kei again.

“He didn’t allow this to happen. He caused it.” Said Allen interrupting, “This whole thing is just to ironic to have happened otherwise. He sends your brother to find us, and to start something, then he buries us, but unlike that poor freak with his foot sticking out from under the rock, he keeps us from being crushed, so he can enjoy watching us as we die in the darkness.”

            “And what if he has a plan to save us? And he was only keeping us alive because we placed ourselves in a dangerous place and did stupid things while there?”

            “Honey, there is nothing short of him sending an angel that will save us and last time I checked, he wasn’t in the habit of doing that. Let me refresh your memory. First, no one knows where we are, second even if they knew we were gone, there is no reason they would come here, and lastly, even if they should look right at this very shop, why would anyone decide to dig under all this rubble when we have a mall full of it.”

            “Then I guess we are going to be the first in a long while to run into an angle!” Said Kei stubbornly. And even as she said this with confidence, a tear worked its way down her cheek. She was glad that the darkness hid her “lack of faith”.

 

They sat in the darkness for a long while. Both her and Allen had worked their hands till they bled trying to push or pull a way out. Allen had wrapped his twisted and broken limb as best he could, and managed to control the bleeding. Genji had remained unconscious through this all. Though Kei was glad her brother was spared this black hopelessness, she was worried that there was something wrong with him. But there was nothing she could do. Kei shook her head angrily; there was that word again! Nothing she could do. She was helpless totally and utterly helpless.

                Allen too struggled with his inability to act. Before he would have simply accepted that he was a victim of circumstance and let it go, but he couldn’t get over that it was his fault that Kei was here in the first place. He could have gone alone, it was helpful to have her to help him escape camp, but he could have figured out another way, or even not gone in the first place. Now they were going to die, and the blame rested with him.

            Allen’s teeth bared, and his fists clenched. It was his weakness that left them like this. He might not have had the power to prevent what had happened, but he should have had the power to save them now. But he was helpless…worthless. In a fit of anger, he punched the slab in front of him. The cold surface cut into his already bloody hand, and the sudden motion caused a sudden jolt of pain that threaten to knock him out.

 

            “Kei.” Said Allen once the bright spots had stopped dancing in his vision. “I want you to know that I am truly sorry for all of this. I don’t think it matters much at this point, since I can’t fix any of it, but…I am.”

            “Thanks.” Said Kei.

            “I guess this is the point where after saying that I go on for a while justifying why I did what I did, and place the blame on someone else.” Allen paused, “But I can’t, not even on him.” He said indicating her brother.

            “I won’t say that it’s ok, because it isn’t. But I forgive you.” Kei took a deep breath, despite the fact she was less then pleased with Allen at the moment, hearing someone talk was comforting.

            “Oh and one other thing.” A hint of a smile lit his pained face, “I also wanted you to know you are the hottest girl I’ve ever met.”

            “Careful, of I might break that other leg.” Kei threatened. But she smiled, a compliment is compliment after all. She reached out her hand, and found his. He took her hand, and they settled back and waited to see if God would act.

Marten helped the rest of the men struggle to place an engine onto the bed of a cart. They had found a collapsed car dealership. Inside, the showroom displays had been crushed, but the engines with in them were still brand new and for the most part undamaged. Finding a serviceable body to place them in wouldn’t be hard, and would fetch a far price. A sound like faint thunder reached them as they stood catching their breath. One of the men guessed it was a building that finally fell due to time and damage. Like the rest of the men, Marten was about to forget the rather familiar sound and return to work. Buildings weakened by war and disrepair was a common thing, was just one more reason people stayed out of the Wilderness. Marten bent his head, intent on his work, then suddenly straitened.

“Come on,” he called to the rest of them, “we are going to investigate.”

“Shouldn’t some of us stay here and wrap things up?” asked on of the men.

“No, but bring your tools with you.” Marten replied snatching a light and striding off in the direction the noise had come from. A few blocks down from where they had been working, they found an old shopping mall. The building looked like it was in pretty good condition, but had been taken some damage anyway. There was also the possibility that bombs had struck the center, leaving the outer walls intact. Marten stood staring at the building in front of him, and then motioned them to follow him as he approached one of the entrances. Steel bars blocked the way. Undaunted, Marten began to circle the building. Several of the younger men looked confused and slightly annoyed at the detour. It had been a hard day and they were looking forward to the well-lit comforts of home. The older men simply looked intently for an entrance along with Marten; they had learned there was no point in arguing with the old knight.

Finally Marten found what he was looking for, an area where a tank had struck the side of the wall, causing the wall itself to fall outward.

“The tank itself is still buried.” Remarked Marten to himself, “A sad way to die. Those men were most likely protected from being crushed by the armor of the tank, but not protected from the lack of air, water, or food. It is ironic that such fragile beings as we are able to cause so much destruction and suffering.”

Marten led his men through the hole at the top, and down the empty hallways. Dust from a cave-in still hung in the air. Ahead, a red gleam stood out in the darkness. Marten frowned, “What could be creating light down here?” he wondered. Marten slowed his pace and drew the short sword he wore in his belt. Typically he carried a long sword, but such a weapon made working more difficult. The men around him hefted their respective tools, shovels, hammers, or picks and spread out across the rubble-strewn hall. Marten made his way toward the light, and found a half burned flare blazing by itself. Immediately, Marten scanned the darkness for signs of a trap. Calling to the men with him, he told them to move in groups and check for signs of people. For the moment, Marten stood looking at the flare, and then the caved-in storefronts near it. Then something caught his eye, a black splatter on the still standing doorframe. Shielding the black splatter from the harsh red light of the flare, he brought up his own white light. He was correct, its true color was red, but did not show up as such in the red light. Reaching out, he smeared his fingers through it. The splatter was wet and sticky, it was blood, fresh blood.

Turning to the darkness Marten called out to the other men. With in a few moments, they were all gathered back again, some mistaking his call as a sign that he was under attack. Instead, Marten pointed to the caved-in store and said simply, “Quickly, remove that rubble.” And he himself began to shift some of the smaller chunks. The men fell to their task with surprising speed considering they had been working all day before this. For more then an hour the excavation continued. The men took turns resting, but Marten worked on the whole time. He himself didn’t know why, but he knew that he must see what was at the back of this shop, and worked steadily to do so. Finally, using all their strength they shifted a large slab that fell outward with a resounding boom. Shining their lights at what was behind it, they were shocked at what they found. Pressed against each other, covered in blood and sweat were Genji, Kei, and Allen. Allen had passed out, Genji was still out, and but Kei was still awake and for the most part unharmed.

“Sir Marten!” She cried as the light reviled his face. Marten’s face reflected the confusion and relief that everyone else felt. Gently pulling her out of dirt, he pulled her close and held her in his arms. Kei began to sob with relief. Stroking her black hair he said more to himself then to her, “There is a story here, one that I would like to hear.”

“…and the ceiling caved in.” Finished Allen. He had told the story truthfully…if you didn’t count the parts he simply decided didn’t belong in the story, and Allen didn’t count them. Well, there was that and the beginning, where he had said that all three of them had left together. “Which is kind of true,” he thought to himself, “He was following so closely on our heels it might as well have been together.”

The Elders and Marten were seated around his bed in the Training Tent. Genji had been carried back to his family’s tent to recover. Kei was there as well, and her eyes would widen when Allen altered the truth, but she said nothing, and since everyone was focused on Allen, her reaction was unnoticed. Or nearly so, Marten noticed the changes, but he said nothing, and his cold face showed no sign of his thoughts.

Finally, with their questions “answered”, the men slipped home to their families. Marten stood. “Is there anything you would like to add?” he asked looking down at Allen. Allen let his face look thoughtful then answered, “Nothing I can think of.”

Marten nodded as if expecting such an answer and let Kei and Allen alone in the tent.

Kei slipped over to Allen’s side. “Why did you lie to them like that?”

“Hmm, most likely because I think one broken leg is enough for the moment.” Answered Allen in a tired voice. “Besides, I doubt I would be in as much trouble, after all I’m the stray dog that doesn’t know any better, it’s you and your through-bred brother that would really be in trouble.”

Kei’s face started to turn red. Seeing this Allen stopped, “Sorry,” He said, “I’m not forgetting it’s my fault. I really meant what I said when we were trapped.” He lay back and closed his eyes against the throbbing of his leg. Kei moved toward the tent flap, as she reached it Allen called out to her, “Especially the part about being hot!” Kei said nothing as she disappeared.