Authors: Jeremy Mac
They
enter the residential area of The Pinnacle. What was once office space has now
been converted into family homes, bringing the near perfect concrete and steel
ecosystem to full
circle.
Kids
play
wiffle
ball in the middle of the street,
running, shouting, laughing, while a dozen grown-ups from the sidelines cheer
and encourage the young’uns. The rickshaw cyclist stops at Taya’s request so
they can watch the game. As they watch, something unrelated catches Lathan’s
eye; two young boys off to the side stick fighting, whacking their stick-swords
together
and taunting
one another in playful
mannerism.
It
takes him back to another time and place long ago.
A time
when he was just a boy himself.
A time when confusion
and ignorance are pesky annoyances at the birth of pubescence.
“Never
overextend your swing,” Sinsai said. “If you put too much into it and don’t
keep control of your sword you will leave yourself open and off balance.”
Young
Lathan rubbed his ribs where he’d been whacked with the wooden sword, the
result of his overextended swing.
“Again,”
Sinsai instructed.
Lathan
attacked. This time, fluid and controlled; swing, block, follow through with a
counter swing. Of course Sinsai blocked everything Lathan brought to him, but
Lathan was learning.
“Very
good,” Sinsai said.
And then Sinsai attacked, fast and
fierce.
He
came at Lathan with an overhead downward swing followed by a right swing to the
torso and then a forward thrust. All of which Lathan blocked easy enough but
directly afterward Sinsai got relentless and Lathan soon became overwhelmed. In
his haste to defend himself Lathan lost all control of his offense and before
he knew it he found himself on the ground. Sinsai offered his hand to Lathan,
helping the boy to his feet.
“Expect
the unexpected. The element of surprise is a mean one, so keep it on your side
and always keep your guard. The biggest mistake you can make is to
underestimate your enemy. Allow him to only think he’s got the upper hand. In
doing so you will cause his ego to step in the way and that will cloud any good
offense he may have, and when you take that away, go in for the kill.”
Lathan
slapped his hands over his
gi
, straightening himself
out for the umpteenth time that day, clearly peeved at
himself
.
Sinsai
took young Lathan by the shoulders, facing him directly, and said, “It doesn’t
come over night. You’ve only just begun. You will be great, but it takes
patience and practice.”
“But
I have been at it for nearly a year and I still haven’t gotten it down.”
Sinsai
smiled affectionately on his young protégé, remembering he had said, very
nearly,
those
same words about himself long ago.
“I
told you in the beginning that it will take much time. There is still so much
for you to learn and even more for you to understand. A year is barely
scratching the surface.”
Lathan
sighed exhaustedly and said, “I just don’t understand the point in learning all
of this stuff. I can see the importance in guns and hand-to-hand combat, but no
one fights with swords anymore. It’s pointless.”
Sinsai
raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Is that so? Is it pointless for a soldier to
enter battle with a sword alongside his rifle? Perhaps the soldier runs out of
ammo or the rifle becomes inoperative, what then? You can always rely on the
sword. And when you’ve learned to use it well you will reach for it first,
because it can be even deadlier than a bullet ever can be.”
Sinsai
took a step backward, providing space between the two.
“You
have the gift, Lathan, I see it in you, and you have great purpose in life. No
one but you can bring that purpose to fruition. But you must train and train
hard the mind, body, and spirit, so when the time comes, you will be ready.”
Lathan
gave his respects in a bow.
One
boy holds an aggressive attack on the other boy in their stick fighting,
causing the less aggressive boy to step backward until he trips over his own
feet and falls to the ground. Taking advantage of the boys fall, the aggressor
turns his stick-sword upside down, grasping the handle end with both hands, and
stabs down onto his victim but stopping short of actually harming him. He then
stretches both arms up to the air, stick-sword held high, shouting
triumphantly. After a moment of basking in victory he then smiles down on his
fallen friend, says some words of encouragement, and then helps him to his
feet. Once he is stable, without warning, he playfully hits his friend across
the arm with his stick-sword and takes off running. His friend chases after
him. Lathan watches as the two boys commence battle once again, weaving and
jostling through the crowd until both veer off into the open doorway of a tall
red brick building. The next building over is much bigger with gray exterior
walls that nearly match the sky.
Harrington International
is chiseled above the doors.
Lathan
leans over to Taya and asks, “Do all of these buildings
have people
residing in them?”
“Most
of them do. There are still a few that are totally ransacked because no one’s
bothered to clean them up yet. We’ve gone through just about all of them and
took out and used most of what was of valuable resource. We’ll eventually get
to the ones we haven’t gotten to yet.
One floor at a time.
It’s a big job. Believe me, I should know. I’ve had my fair share of it.”
That
night, high above in the building of James Grant’s old law firm, Lathan gazes
out of a window in what was once a large, lovely office. He isn’t able to
actually see it for the other buildings in the way of his perspective view but
he knows its exact location and so imagines it in his mind’s eye. He knows the
exact floor and office, where the safe is and the combination.
Tomorrow
night he will sneak out, undetected, and retrieve what he came for, and then he
will leave The Pinnacle.
The
room is a conference room, no more and no less. It is filled with a bunch of
hardened, rough around all the edges, men and a few women.
The
high brass.
Everyone
is on time.
While
they wait they share villainous story’s, bragging about sex and kills (the two
often sharing the same sentence), showing off new and/or improved weaponry,
bartering small items, challenging one another and playing strength games. It
is loud. They are normally called in for evaluation once a week, Vincent keeps
a tight rein on his town and its people, and keeping continuously informed in
detail of everything happening, along with his uncanny ability to strike fear
at will, insures his ability to stay in power and control of his people.
But
today’s meeting is special, called unexpectedly, and no one has a clue as to
its nature and each person hopes it isn’t about his or herself.
The
last special meeting that was called had Vincent chopping off the heads of two
men right there at the conference table. The two hapless victims had found a
large quantity of canned goods in one of their search and seizures of Claxton
and failed to bring Vincent his due. Under Maddick law, having been written,
signed, and approved under Vincent’s authority, the Commander in Chief (Vincent
Maddick) is entitled to three-fourths of all food and merchandise brought into
the town of Maddick. The food was reported to Vincent through whispered lips
from one of his many bootlicking eyes and ears and so proper action was taken.
The two heads are now preserved in two large glass jars of formaldehyde
displayed on a table outside the conference room doorway to consecrate the idea
of what greed and lies will get you before entering the room.
“Hear
ye, hear ye,” Jacko says aloud and immediately everyone shuts up. Jacko is the house
speaker and secretary. He takes his responsibilities to an absurd level of
seriousness, quite proud he is, and no one dares to ridicule him for it because
everyone figures it is Vincent’s bidding to do so. He got his name because he
looks like a Jack-o-lantern; bald head, big frightful eyes, and only a few
teeth in his mouth. He has only one ear, he lost the other one in a prison
knife fight long ago, and he now proudly sports the ear Vincent gave him
attached to strings tied around his head. Once he has the floors attention, he
continues. “The honorable Vincent Maddick of the great and proud people of
Maddick is presiding.”
Behind
Jacko a door to the left opens and Vincent steps into the room. He approaches
the head of the table and stands. The masked man comes through the same door
and stands to the side, behind Vincent.
Vincent
pierces the room with an icy glare and says, “Be seated.”
Those
who are privileged to sit at the table do so; generals and captains
respectively first, then the lieutenants, and then those who fall in after that
order. Once all space is taken at the table everyone takes a chair behind those
at the table.
“You
are all probably wondering why this meeting was called. You are probably
wondering, ‘Who did what now?’, or, ‘What didn’t they do?’, and you may be
asking yourself, ‘Is it me?’ and I ask myself, ‘Why?
’.
Look amongst yourselves, because. . .” Vincent scans the faces in the room with
deep severity in his hawk-like gaze. And without warning he yells out, “All is
well in Maddick!”
His
thunderous intensity jolts everyone in their seats and they are momentarily
taken aback before realizing his boisterous statement is a good one. The room
then bursts into a cheer.
“Silence!”
Vincent bellows, and the joy in his
face is quickly replaced by a sour one.
“Do
you actually believe all is well?” Vincent asks the room with such detest that
many believe it’s left a retched taste in his mouth.
“
Hm
?
All is well? Everything is simply hunky dory, is
that right? Not by a long shot. We eat spoiled food and rats and strays
and are on the very brink of cannibalism while at the other end of the city
they dine on fresh produce and poultry and swine and wash it all down with
clean water. We struggle while they relish with ease, laughing it up.
Laughing at you.
And you are accepting of this?
I
have been accepting of this but I tell you now I will accept it no longer. We
have two of their men who have for the most part been cooperative about what
they do know and don’t know about The Pinnacle’s defenses and complexities. Of
course we will first try to negotiate, allow them to see reason, allow them to
understand the full extent of my kindness. But if that doesn’t work, well,
we’ll just have to do it our way. So now I ask all of you, are you ready to
take what’s rightfully ours?”
Murmurings
of agreement pass through the room.
Quite the disappointment
as enthusiasm goes, and so Vincent asks them again and this time the response
is much louder.
The
third time the room shakes.
Mongoose
and Max lay passed out in their hideout after a long night of gorging
themselves with the food they commandeered the day before. The food was
good,
since it is canned and canned food is getting harder
to come by these days. Food in general is hard to come by these days. There’d
been plenty of times when he and Max were unable to find anything to eat and
like most others they feasted on rats. Not that there is anything wrong with
rat meat, you just need to cook it right. These city rats are huge too, some as
big as cats. If you’re not a glutton a couple of them will get you by for a
little while.
But
thankfully yesterday was a rat free day and from the looks of their stash it is
going to be a pretty good couple of weeks. One more notch made for team
Mongoose and Max.
From
Mongoose’s physical appearance alone, short and skinny, those seeing him for
the first time always pass him off as no threat at all. But the mental strength
he possesses can out-lift the burliest of men. He has proven just that time and
time again. He is loyal only to Max and will do only what is best for the two.
The
bull had gotten lucky. He was able to push Max off of him and get away,
dragging his short pudgy friend along with him as Max snapped at their asses.
In an excited afterthought Mongoose hollered out behind them who he and Max are
and that this is their turf and don’t they forget it.
Max
is the first to awaken. Mongoose is sprawled out on their pallet, mouth agape
with a puddle of drool beneath his head, with Max wedged into him using his
back as a pillow when the dog hears a noise. Max glances up at the
window,
ears perked up and beamed in. It is an unusual
noise, unlike anything he is used to. With interest piqued, he creeps up to the
window and what he sees strikes him as odd. He watches, curious at first, but
soon the curiosity troubles him. This somehow doesn’t feel right. He goes back
to Mongoose and licks his face. Mongoose mutters something and bats him away.
Max puts his rear down and stares at his slumbering master with concern. He
glances back at the window where the noise keeps coming from and then back at
his master. Deciding that Mongoose definitely needs to get up he goes back to
his face and licks some more.
“
Wha
’?”
Mongoose says groggily, batting at
the assailing tongue. “
Wha
’
ya
wan’? Christ, Max,
what
?”
Mongoose
sits upright, rubbing the sand out of his eyes, and Max springs to the window,
glancing back and forth from Mongoose to the window with little whines escaping
him.
“What’s
up, Max? Huh? What is it, Boy?”
Mongoose
lumbers to his feet and peeks out the window and what he sees makes his heart
jump. A Maddick convoy with a huge military truck chopped up and made to look
like a tank leading the way. Several more vehicles follow, all chopped and
welded together for reinforcement, some with harpoons fashioned on their tops
or large rifle mounts protected by steel shields. But what really has his
attention is that lead truck-tank; two really messed up looking dudes are tied
onto it. One is tied to a stand welded to the front grill, his arms stretched
out to his sides as if crucified, one side of his head is mauled where his ear
should be and at first he thinks that he is wearing only one dark sock but then
he realizes it isn’t a sock at all, the skin itself is gone, exposing the raw flesh
of his leg. The other poor guy is tied the same way on top of the cab of the
truck, looking horribly beaten but way more intact than his friend.
Mongoose
slips on his roller blades, ties on a pair of shoes to his belt, checks his
weapons, and he and Max leave out the door. They go out the back way, following
on the other side of the buildings undetected while peering down the alleyways.
The convoy isn’t moving fast but he still needs to keep a good pace to keep up
and Max stays right alongside him the whole time. When Mongoose rolls into the
street, Max goes into the street. When Mongoose cuts across onto the sidewalk,
Max does too. Max never lags behind, passes him up, or leaves his side. No one
gives the kid and his dog much
mind,
everyone is used
to seeing them. And although Mongoose looks out for
numero
uno
and Max first and foremost with an intense
instinct for survival sake he is well known to throw someone else a bone every
once in a while.
Just
before he comes to the window Mongoose reaches into his bag, pulls out a can of
unlabeled food (like most canned food its contents are a mystery until opened)
and prepares to toss it.
Approaching the window, Mongoose
hollers out, “Hey, Mister Jacob!”
The
old man, in all his long silver haired and wrinkled faced glory, like a prune
with hair, peeps his head out the window and Mongoose tosses the can through,
missing the old man’s head by inches.
“Bless
you, son!” Mister Jacob thanks the boy and waves him on.
Mongoose
believes he knows where the convoy is headed but can only guess as to why they
are going there now. The Maddick’s have been trying to get inside that place
ever since he can remember. To his understanding it is heavily guarded with
superior fire power. Assuming the two messed up guys tied to the truck are from
there that will likely give the Maddick’s leverage and maybe just enough to get
them a piece of the pie but it surely won’t get them the whole enchilada.
Or
maybe it isn’t that at all. For all he knows they can be out for a nice noon drive
on their way to the city park to enjoy a nice picnic and maybe throw the Frisbee
around for a bit. Meat for the grill is already well tenderized, tied to the
truck, and ready for cooking.
He
stops at the corner of a four-way, watching as the truck-tank turns right going
north with the rest of the vehicles following.
Welp
, to The Pinnacle it is. This is going
to be very interesting.