Chapter 5

Walking forward, I heard them a minute later and then saw three motorbikes. I walked over the hill and they were driving straight for me. They didn’t stop at first and I held my ground. Within minutes, they were circling about twenty feet around me. I waited while the dust spun up. It made breathing hard.

Assholes.

Finally, one drove closer and the others stopped.

“Fancy finding a piece of tail out here?” the biggest and ugliest said from a few feet away.

He was dressed in dirty jeans and a leather vest. No shirt to cover his overly hairy body. He had several thick gold chains around his neck and I wondered if they got caught up in his chest hair. His shaggy brown hair was oily and rivulets of sweat rolled down his dirty face into his scraggily unkempt beard. All I could smell were the bike exhaust fumes but I had a feeling they covered the group’s body odor. I should be thankful. My eyes quickly scanned the other two. Triplets came to mind. They matched all the way to their bushy beards.

“I’m minding my own business. Leave me alone.” It was pure bravado. Why had the chopper guys left me? The escort idea was gone now.

“We got a live one, boys.”

They were going to have more than a live one if they tried anything.

“What’s in the pack?” the same guy asked.

“None of your business. I would suggest you leave.” I’d deepened my voice because the last thing I wanted was for it to squeak.

They laughed more than they should have. I was a riot when I got going, but still.

I practiced with my sword in the tent but hadn’t had a sparring partner since my father died. This didn’t deter me. I watched as they lay down their bikes and moved closer.

I slid the backpack off and allowed it to tumble to the ground. They spread out.

“You know how to use that sword?” one of them asked.

“Why don’t you be the first to find out,” I said. The tingling in my fingers grew.

“You need to remove it in order to use it,” the third one said.

They laughed at my expense.

“If I need to, I will. I don’t think it will be necessary.” I yawned for good measure.

The energy sizzled again but this time it ran up my arms, through my torso, and down my legs. I should be glowing but the idiots didn’t say anything so I doubted I was. I didn’t think it would stop me from defending myself but it was much stronger and I wasn’t sure how it would affect me.

“Whose first?” I asked and smiled.

“What makes you think we won’t all come together?” idiot number one asked.

“Where’s the fun in that?” I said. “Someone will come in first, I’ll put him down, and the other two will come in together. You don’t think it will go that way so the first will come in alone to see if my fighting skills are as smart as my mouth. I’m waiting.” Talking too much when I was nervous was a thing with me.

Idiot one did the honors. I slipped his grab, bent low, and pulled the knife from my right boot. It was a slow draw because the jeans were tight against the scuffed leather of the boot. He was thankfully slow and missed me on his first charge. I had the knife in my hand and buried it in his gut when he came back for more. I twisted to the side when he went down, grabbing his stomach wound and groaning in pain. The other two charged just as I’d said they would.

I’d witnessed my father fight and kill and I had done the same, though not on his scale. His fighting was a thing of beauty. I wasn’t bloodthirsty but I didn’t turn away from violence. The thousands of hours my father spent training me came back. I could hear him inside my head.

Move, flow with the air, slice, stab, cut. Be one with your blade. He’d taught me to use both a knife and sword. Three minutes later, all three idiots were down. The first one was still alive. He was crawling away while bleeding out. He wouldn’t get far but I couldn’t take a chance.

“They chose death so never leave them alive,” my father had told me repeatedly.

I walked over to the man, grabbed him by the hair, and sliced his throat. A short gurgle was my answer. I removed his bloody neck chains, wiped them on his jeans, and cleaned out his pockets. I checked the other bodies. They each had an assortment of gold and silver coins which went in the backpack after I placed a few in my pockets. The jewelry was stashed in the pack too. I wouldn’t need to sell a small bag of gunpowder for a room on my first night in the city.

I examined the bikes and chose the best one. It had no identifying marks, which was a good thing. These guys belonged to a street gang and they wouldn’t be happy that I’d killed their men or took their money. Spoils of war. They would have done far worse to me, including killing me when they finished.

I’d had my first kill when I was eleven. My father held me that night while my entire body shook. I wasn’t upset about killing the bad man; I was upset that he almost got me. I’d had six years without hurting a fly, but the killing came back easily.

I hid the two bikes in a gully and dragged the bodies beside them. I was hot and sweaty by the time I’d finished. The container of water helped and I drank half of it.

I didn’t ask for trouble but I didn’t run from it either. If my father could forgive me for returning to the city, he would be proud.

I felt his presence.

“You’re faster now,” he said inside my head.

I’d noticed my speed while I fought. I hadn’t felt rusty and I knew where the strike was coming before it landed. I’d blocked them all. My father had that ability but it was a first for me.

I tucked the jeans into my boots so my knives would be easier to grab if I needed them again. No, when I needed them. The day was still young and I may not have a place to sleep. My father’s friends could be long gone.

I made it into the city without being stopped again. I was pretty good on the bike. It was something else that came back quickly. The map stayed in the helicopter but I knew the way. I would go to the black market the following day, but if I wanted to last more than ten minutes, I needed to give them a name they knew.

I wasn’t sure if it was wise to give my father’s name.

If Mira and Kenner were still around, I could use their name if they were willing to back me. I drove through the streets which were narrower than I remembered. It could be the cement barricades blocking the entrances to buildings along the route. Street urchins scrambled up and over the short cement walls and ran in and out of traffic. There were no cars, just motorbikes and horses. I saw oxen towing a wagon.

It was the city I remembered.