Confronting the Fallen (2 page)

As he sat at the back of the bus, idly glancing at
the other passengers, Chris caught a glimpse of his reflection in the
bus window. He grimaced and turned away, looking at the passing
buildings. Funny, he thought. When he heard people talking about
being young, they seemed to forget how powerless a youth really was.
How useless a thirteen year old was when you were trying to interact
with adults. He sighed. Or when you were fighting for your life.

He sat back, shook his hair out of his eyes and
looked up at the ceiling. Five-six and a hundred and ten pounds.
Small enough to get bounced around by the weakest of men. Useless.
But pretty. Oh yeah, he'd heard that enough on the street.
Apparently, shoulder-length black hair and light blue eyes were
considered attractive. He didn't care.

After he got off of the bus, Chris walked the two
blocks home, constantly checking for signs that he was being
followed. But the streets were empty of both cars and people.
Everyone was either at work or at school, he thought. He shook his
head, feeling sad that he would be leaving soon. He had enjoyed
living here.

The small bungalow looked secure. Chris checked
the perimeter, examining the ground in front of the windows and some
dirt he'd scattered there and in front of both doors. Everything
looked untouched and he allowed himself to relax a bit. Safety first,
he thought. Always safety first.

He let himself in through the back door, locked it
behind him and walked into the kitchen. Coffee. I need coffee. He
flicked the switch on the coffee maker. He always set it up to make a
fresh pot before he went out.

As the coffee was brewing, Chris put away the
dishes he had left to dry the night before and wiped down the counter
top. He liked a sense of neatness and order in his kitchen. He
finished his clean-up, made his coffee then walked toward the
living-room.

As he entered the room and headed for the couch, a
voice from his left said “Welcome home, Christopher.”

Chris turned so quickly that hot coffee sloshed
out of the cup and over his hand. He dropped the cup and gripped his
wrist, cursing loudly.

“Not a very nice word for a young man to
use,” the voice said.

Chris looked up and found himself staring at a man
sitting in an armchair across the room. The man was wearing a black
suit and a string bow tie. Chris couldn't guess his age; he could
have been as young as forty or as old as seventy. His face had an
ageless quality to it. His black hair was short and combed back and
he had a very neat goatee.

Chris just stared, at a loss for words, and the
man smiled slightly at the teen's stunned expression.

“I do apologize, Christopher.” The man
stood up, taller and much wider in the shoulders than Chris. “I
didn't mean to startle you.” He walked by the teen into the
kitchen and returned with a roll of paper towels. Tearing off a few
sheets, he bent down, wiped up the spilled coffee, picked up the cup
and then went into the kitchen again. He came back into the
living-room and sat down in the same chair that he had previously
occupied.

Chris had just stood and watched, astounded, while
the man had cleaned up his mess. Now, he broke out of his shock with
a small jerk and glared at the stranger. “Who are you?”
he asked, trying to sound braver than he felt.

“Ah yes, introductions are in order. My name
is Judge Ethan Jameson Hawkes; retired,” the man said and bowed
slightly in his seat.

“Judge?” Chris said hesitantly.

“Retired,” the man said with a small
smile. Then he glanced at his watch and suddenly looked serious. “It
is one-fifteen. We haven't much time, young man, so I will get right
to it.” He stopped and directed a puzzled look at Chris.
“Perhaps you'd like to sit down?” he asked and indicated
the couch next to the teen.

“Um.” Chris just stood there, at a
loss. A polite stranger who said he was a judge was asking him to sit
on his own couch in his own house. He wasn't quite sure what to say
and do, so he sat down.

“Excellent,” the judge said and he sat
back in his chair and slipped what looked like a large cellphone out
of his inside pocket.

“Now, let me explain why I'm here. We have
approximately,” he glanced at his watch again, “thirty
minutes before we are interrupted so I'd like to get through as much
as I can in the time we have. Now...”

“Interrupted by who?” Chris asked,
trying to keep up.

The judge was looking at his screen and Chris
realized that the man was checking some notes. The judge hummed under
his breath for a moment and then glanced back at Chris.

“Sorry about that. You were saying?”

Chris tried again. “You said we would be
interrupted?”

“Yes, I'm afraid so.” The man nodded
and looked at his watch again. “Twenty seven minutes.” He
sat back on the chair and stared at Chris. “Interrupted by the
same group that you assaulted this morning, young man,” he said
sternly.

Chris' mouth dropped open and then he said
angrily, “Wait a second! Those guys assaulted me! One of them
had a gun!.” He glared at the man, who sighed heavily and shook
his head.

“Yes, he had a gun. A weapon that he had no
intention of using, by the way. And how did they assault you, hmm?
Did they attack you? Grab you? Harm you in any way?”

“Well no,” Chris replied hesitantly.
“But...but why else would they have a gun? I was sure they were
going to use it.”

“Yes, I suppose you were.” The judge's
tone became less severe. “Should have considered that,”
he muttered to himself. Then he looked back at Chris. “Those
men would not have harmed you, Christopher, because their employer
wants you rather badly, as I'm sure you know.”

“Yeah, don't I,” Chris answered
bitterly. The judge looked curious.

“Just how long have they been after you?”
he asked.

Chris thought for a moment. “It's got to be
about a year now,” he said.

“And how many times have they approached you
directly?”

“This morning was the third,” Chris
replied. “The first two times they were all like 'join us and
we'll be your friends, your new family'”. He snorted. “Like
I need a new family.”

“Yes, your family,” the man glanced
down at his pad and tapped it a few times. “You lost your
parents almost three years ago, did you not?”

Chris shot the judge a piercing look. “You
seem to know an awful lot about me, um, your honor,” he said
suspiciously.

The man chuckled. “Young man, I would say
that I know more about you than you know about yourself.” He
looked down at the pad and read aloud. “Christopher Emmanuel
Wright, born to Scott and Candice Wright. Father was a professor
specializing in ancient religions, mother was a research physicist.”
He paused and his voice became almost gentle. “Scott died in a
car accident on the way home from work; Candice died several days
later in a house fire. No other family.” He looked at Chris.
“You've been alone and on your own a long time for someone just
thirteen, Christopher.”

Chris had felt a lump forming in his throat as the
judge had laid out the bare facts of his parent's death. Now he
looked at the man and lifted his chin defiantly. “Almost
fourteen. And I don't need anyone else. I can take care of myself.”

The judge didn't smile at this statement, to
Chris' surprise. Instead he nodded and said seriously, “You
don't need to convince me, young man.” He glanced around the
room. “Your idea to rent this house through a fictitious third
party, handling your finances online using lawyers who have never met
you, avoiding capture by the police after Talon set them on you using
a fake trail of evidence, and not being taken this morning; yes, you
can indeed take care of yourself.”

Chris stared. “You know about the police
chase?” he asked in amazement.

“I may be retired, young man, but I still
have connections in law enforcement. And you may be relieved to know
that the police are no longer looking for you. I've seen to that.”

“You have? Uh, thanks a lot.”

“Don't mention it. Now,” the judge
glanced at his watch. “We have twenty-three minutes. I have a
lot to talk to you about, Christopher, but we simply don't have the
time right now.” He leaned forward and looked intently at
Chris. “If you are wise, you will be gone from this house
before Talon arrives.”

“Gone?” Chris was bewildered. “That
quickly? But, this is my home. I can't just leave. I was going to
take some time and pack. Besides, you said that those guys weren't
going to hurt me this morning. So, if they come back, I'll just say
no to them again and...” The judge was shaking his head. He
looked a bit sad.

“You don't understand, young man. Tell me,
what exactly did you do to those men this morning?”

“I...” Chris hesitated. “I doubt
that you would believe me,” he said with a shrug. The judge
tilted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow.

“You might be surprised, Christopher. Why
not tell me what you did, or what you think you did and let me be the
judge, if you'll pardon the pun.”

Chris saw the man smile slightly at his own joke
and relaxed a tiny bit. “Okay but you won't...well, anyway,
I...I stopped their hearts,” he said, almost whispering. He
looked down at the floor but when the judge didn't reply he looked
back at the man.

The judge was staring intently at him. “You
stopped their hearts,” he repeated Chris' words flatly.

“Just for a few seconds,” Chris said
hurriedly. “As soon as they passed out, I started them up
again.”

“I see. Well, perhaps I asked the wrong
question. Instead of what you did, I suppose I should have asked how
you did it.”

Chris stared at the man in confusion. “Um,
how I did it?”

The judge just nodded.

“I'm not sure exactly,” Chris said. “I
just thought that it would be the best way to stop them without
really hurting them, and then I just did it.” As he spoke,
Chris realized how lame his answer sounded. But the judge nodded
again.

“And have you ever done anything like this
before?” the man asked.

“I was thinking about that same question,
the first time some guys from Talon tried to get me to join.”
Chris stared into space, thinking back. “I guess I did do
something that caught their attention.” He glanced at the
judge. “Nothing like what I did this morning though.”

He didn't speak for a moment, remembering, until
the judge spoke up.

“What did you do?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, well. I spend a lot of time downtown.
You know, going to movies, hanging out and stuff.” Chris looked
at the man, who nodded encouragingly.

“Well, about a year ago, I met an old guy on
the street and I...helped him.” Chris looked suspiciously at
the judge. “What I did isn't really important. But I guess word
got around.”

“I see,” the judge said. “But
why do you think that this is the reason for Talon's interest in
you?”

“Because they mentioned it, the first time
they approached me. They said they liked what I had done and they
could use someone like me.” Chris shrugged. “I guess that
street guy talked to others about what he saw. And word on the street
gets around pretty quickly.”

The judge sighed and then nodded. “How well
I know, young man.” He glanced at his watch yet again.
“Eighteen minutes. Well, now you have crossed a line,
Christopher. Talon does not take kindly to assaults on their people.
They have been publicly embarrassed and organizations like Talon
survive by instilling respect and fear in others.” He glanced
out of the window across the room, then looked back at Chris. “This
time, they will simply take you with them. If you repeat the
performance of this morning and incapacitate them, you will leave
them no choice but to kill you.”

Chris sat back and stared at the judge in
disbelief. “Just like that?” he whispered.

“Yes, Christopher, just like that. If I know
Talon, they will have a shooter waiting outside. If you leave this
house alone, he will assume that you have subdued his colleagues and
he will take you out.” The judge looked compassionately at
Chris. “I hate to put it as bluntly as that, but we have no
time for niceties.” The man stood up abruptly and Chris jerked
back in his chair. The judge glanced at his watch. “Fourteen
minutes. Christopher, I have a lot to tell you and I'd like to make
you an offer as well, but as I keep saying, we have no time. I'm
leaving for Ottawa as soon as I'm done here. If you're interested in
learning more, and if you want to hear my offer, then please listen
closely.”

The judge slipped his device into an inside pocket
and put on the long coat that had been draped beside him. He
continued to speak as he prepared to leave.

“You have been to Ottawa several times, I
believe?”

Chris just nodded, not even bothering to ask the
man how he knew this.

“Excellent,” the judge said as he
walked toward the front hallway. Chris stood up and followed him. “I
will be in front of the Parliament buildings tomorrow, close to the
eternal flame in front of the Peace Tower. You know it, yes? Good. I
will wait there from five o'clock until precisely five-fifteen. And
then I will leave. If you want to speak to me again, that is your
only chance to do so. If you don't show up, I will assume that you
are not coming.”

The judge reached the front door and opened it.

“Well, that's no problem,” Chris said.
“I can just hop on a local flight and be there in an hour or
so.” He thought a moment. “I'm pretty sure I can still
afford that.”

The man turned back and looked at Chris. “You've
forgotten Talon, Christopher. Unless I am quite mistaken, they will
have the airports, bus terminal and train station covered as soon as
they learn that you have escaped. Getting out of the city may be more
difficult than you think.”