The Eternal Menace

The Eternal Menace Page 3

by Robert Gill

  3

  FROM THE PAST

  Boran Jurok sat at a table that stretched to no end in the massive dining room. Being a man of elegance, he kept his olive-toned face clean-shaven, well-manicured hands and feet, and he never went anywhere without wearing tailor-made clothes and a smooth, dark, short haircut.

  Boran didn’t have a family, so the antique dining sets, the paintings of old battle scenes, all the decorations were just eye candy for when he had business associates over for dinner. In fact, Mr. Jurok didn’t even care about rare antiques. He liked everything pop culture. Something about the drama in other people’s lives fed his boredom. He was reading a celebrity gossip magazine as he ate popcorn and drank orange juice.

  Boran often impressed people. Not only was he a sharp thinker when conducting business, but he also spoke several languages. He could converse with anyone from Morocco to Malaysia, because he’s done business with them all.

  On top of that, he also lived in a freakin’ castle! Outside of the blue castle rested a town called Taruh, where Boran was in charge. With no real political power, Boran made a deal with the king of Morocco to oversee the growth of the place where he grew up, hoping to bring in more business and tourism. At thirty-four years old, Boran was satisfied with his life.

  A security guard dressed in casual attire holding an assault rifle escorted Kizm into the room. Without even lifting his head, Boran had an answer to any question that would be asked. “Whatever it is, I’m busy.”

  “Not too busy if you’re reading that junk.”

  That familiar voice took his interest away from the magazine. He got up smiling and gave Kizm a big hug. “It’s about time you made it back,” he said. “I was beginning to think something had happened to you.”

  “You know better than that,” Kizm replied with a facial expression to match his arrogance. “Where’s my little girl?”

  “She’s out in the garden.” Boran nodded to the guard.

  The guard left the room and went down a long hallway to another large room near the back of the castle. Inside stood a dark-skinned bald man, about a decade older than Boran, at the door. The guard whispered to him. The bald man smiled and walked down a long aisle in the garden filled with exotic plants. In the middle of the garden sat a girl with caramel skin and long, deep dark-brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She sat on the floor drawing a stone statue of Boran Jurok that stood in front of her.

  The bald man tapped the girl on the shoulder. “Good news, Adalla. Your father has returned.”

  She turned around with a big, dimpled smile on her narrow face. “Really?” she asked. The bald man nodded. She hopped up, the drawing sliding from her lap onto the floor, and grabbed his hand. “C’mon, Nebin, let’s go.” She pulled him along as she raced to go see her dad.

  Meanwhile, Kizm and Boran sat at the long table while a servant filled Kizm’s glass with brandy. “Thank you,” Kizm said to the servant.

  “So, how was your trip?” Boran asked.

  “Everything went well. Things should be falling into place soon.”

  “What do you plan to do? Are you finally going to settle down?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’m planning things as I go. I might just live here.” Kizm took a sip of his drink.

  “You’re welcomed. There’s plenty of room, plus I enjoy Adalla’s company.”

  “She wasn’t any trouble was she?”

  Boran laughed. “I don’t think that girl knows how to be trouble. I’ve never seen a nicer kid in my life.”

  Adalla and Nebin burst through the door. She ran up to Kizm and wrapped her arms around him. Kizm smiled. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “Did you miss me?”

  “You know I did.”

  “I missed you too. I thought I was going to go crazy without you. That reminds me, I have a present for you. Nebin, will you do me a favor and grab that duffle bag in the hallway?”

  “Sure,” Nebin replied. He went to the hallway and picked up the bag lying next to the door. He then placed it beside Adalla. She cheesed, unzipping the duffle bag and pulling out a small pet kennel. She put the kennel on the table and opened the door to peek inside.

  A creature was curled in a ball inside. She pulled the creature out. It was small with scaly, green skin, leopard-like spots, big eyes that resembled a snake’s, a cute little puffy face and a short tail with a small needle-like tip. It allowed her to hold it close to her skinny body.

  Fascinated but confused, she asked, “What is it?”

  “She’s whatever you want her to be. The man I bought her from named her Mimic. He said that she can turn into any animal or reptile as long as it’s small.”

  Her fascination grew. “Really? Mimic, huh? I want to see what she can change into. Thanks, dad.” Adalla gave Kizm a kiss on the cheek and darted out of the room.

  Boran rose from the table. “I made some changes to the castle while you were gone. Let me show you.”

  “All right,” Kizm replied. They both left the room.

  While Boran escorted Kizm around, Kwon arrived at the giant, drooping flower just like Zion mentioned. It was as tall as a telephone pole with a stem as tough as bamboo. Kwon checked out his options: To the left, fallen trees had blocked off the path. The trees were withered; some of them just looked like they might’ve fallen, but as Kwon looked closer he noticed that a lot of the trees were burnt on one side and looked like they’d been thrown all over the place from some sort of devastating activity deeper along the path.

  If he went straight, he might get bitten by a snake or spider or maybe worse. But if he went right he could run into some psycho whose favorite hobby in the world was to rob and murder innocent little pre-teen boys and use their corpse as a shield from the sun because they believed it was spying on them, and they spent every day with a rotting body worn on their shoulders like fur while they danced around and ate countless bowls of cereal at night and slept on the ground—using the body as cover—in the daytime, while singing nursery rhymes in their sleep because they miss being a kid again; all while trying to pick out their next victim.

  After coming to that startling conclusion, Kwon decided to take a chance with the deadly creatures, so he went down the middle path. Although it happened subtly, Kwon didn’t notice the droopy flower following his movements like a giant eye.

  Back at the castle, the tour reached its end as Boran and Kizm made their way through Boran’s gigantic bedroom full of expensive valuables to his favorite place in the whole castle, a wide balcony.

  “This is a nice view,” Kizm complimented as he looked over the town. Its tree-covered mountains acted like protective adults hugging half of its border. It had hundreds of concrete buildings, sandy and paved streets with patches of trees in and around the town; with healthy, green fields and wooded areas outside of the far-stretching, wrought iron castle fence. “You can see everything from up here.”

  Boran pointed far into the town. “I used to live right over there. I remember when my father built our home when I was six years old. Back then this town was small.”

  “You really turned things around. Soon it’ll be a big city.”

  “I did what I could. How long ago did I meet you, about seventeen years?”

  “I think so.”

  “After my father died the people supported me, but I had to run away from this place. Get away from the memories. I was so young at the time. I wanted the big life. I heard that you could live the big, flashy life selling drugs. Then I ran into you and you introduced me to my first connection. I spent years selling heroin and cocaine. Living the dangerous life.”

  Kizm tapped him on the arm. “It worked out well for you.”

  Boran smiled. “Yeah, but even after seeing places that I never thought I’d see, sleeping with countless women, and watching money pile up like a mountain right before my eyes, it wasn’t enough. I had to come back and repay the people who embraced me. They weren’t just neighbors, they were my family. So I built shops, bigger h
omes, expanded everything. Outsiders even came here to live. This place is a little richer, but there’s still so much more room to grow. The people out there helped build this castle and accepted me as their leader. This castle may not be humungous, but it’s fitting enough.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Boran started to look worried. “It sounds good, but there’s still a problem. I have to keep them from seeing those fields to the east. I deal with construction and marketing, but I’m still a drug dealer first. If the people knew how this town was built they’d never forgive me. My father died when I was ten. They practically raised me from that point.”

  “Without the drugs this town would be nothing more than a place to pass through.”

  Boran sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  Kizm placed his hand on Boran’s shoulder and locked onto his eyes. “I’ve been thinking about taking over some territory, and I want you as my partner. If things go well, you can give up the drug business for good.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “I have something big planned. Something that can change the world.”

  “What do you plan to do, take over Africa?” Boran chuckled a bit.

  With a straight face, he answered, “I’m thinking of something bigger.”

  Kizm’s silent confidence made Boran uneasy. His expression became serious. “Will people get hurt in your plan?”

  “Of course, but your people will be safe.”

  “Then whatever it is, I don’t want to be part of it.”

  Kizm smirked. “You don’t have to be.”

  Boran gave Kizm a stern look. “Listen to me, Kizm. Don’t go stirring up trouble.” He walked away and exited the bedroom as Kizm stared at him with the smirk still on his face.

  When the evening approached, Zembok arrived at the pink flower. He looked left, seeing the blocked path, and then right. He wondered if the path straight ahead was the way Kwon went. A gut feeling he couldn’t shake caused his eyes to linger in that direction.

  He took a few steps forward but then changed his mind. Zembok didn’t want to risk going down the wrong path, so he let chance decide. He pulled a coin from his pocket, then he flipped it in the air, already choosing a side. The coin disappeared in the grass. He combed the ground with his hand, frustrated for losing a bit of time searching for the coin. He finally felt it and picked it up, making sure he didn’t turn it over. It showed tails. “Right it is.” He pocketed the coin and started walking through the path to the right.

  Meanwhile, strange cackles and hisses echoed through the woods as Kwon traveled along his path. Rustling came from the trees above. He stopped and looked around but couldn’t spot anything. He heard it again. This time, it jumped from tree to tree all around him. When it jumped to one of the trees, a large lizard tail disappeared into the leaves, but the lizard had to be the size of an alligator to have a tail this size.

  He started running. All Kwon heard was the rustling of leaves and branches getting closer to him. He tripped and fell to the ground. The rustling stopped. Not a tree moved even an inch. “Ow!” Something stabbed his ankle. A small, round, furry rodent scurried off into the woods. Kwon checked his ankle. It was nothing major, just a couple drops of blood escaping two tiny holes. He rose to his feet and looked up at the trees. Still no more movement, so he continued along the path.

  It was only a few seconds before he noticed the path starting to stretch further and further. The woods swayed from side to side. His eyelids gained weight too quickly to hold open and he began to lose his balance. He fell to the ground and passed out.

  At the university where he taught, Professor Shalmer sat at his desk in an empty classroom staring at a picture of his family. Even after changing professions, people around me still get hurt.

  His blind student entered the room. “Professor Shalmer?” he called.

  The professor stood and approached the gray-eyed student. “Yes, I’m here. What are you doing here? You should be taking time off.”

  “What about you?” the student asked.

  “Aw, don’t worry about me. I’ve been through a lot worse. It’ll take more than that to break me.”

  “Well, I just came by here to tell you that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and everything you’ve taught me.”

  The professor smiled. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

  “I also want to tell you that I’m leaving school for good.”

  The professor’s smile disappeared. “Why? Why would you throw away your future so quickly?”

  “Look, professor, the only thing I’ve ever wanted to be was a marine biologist, but now I can’t even see what the fish look like. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t even have a future.”

  Professor Shalmer placed his hands on the student’s shoulders. “Listen to me. Don’t throw your life away because of one obstacle. You’re going to have them all through your life. Some are small and some, like yours, are major. You can’t let them stop you. Think of it this way, we were the only ones to survive the attack. That means we still have work to do on this planet. We’ve been given a second chance. Now my second chance is with my family, but yours, yours might be bigger. Meet me in my office after you come back from your break. I’ll help you in any way I can.”

  The student nodded. “Thank you, professor.”

  Later that evening, Bohr stood on a rooftop near the university with a blood-stained newspaper in hand, with the front page headline reading “Professor Calls Massacre a Mystery”. He watched as Professor Shalmer went to his car and drove off. Bohr followed from the air. He tailed him all the way to the professor’s home. After he parked in the driveway, locked the doors, and went in the house, Bohr landed in the middle of the street. He looked around at the quiet neighborhood, then at the professor’s house. He could see the professor’s family through the open curtains in the living room. They greeted him with excitement when he walked in the door, hugging and kissing him. Bohr’s face turned red. “Not yet. I wanna savor this.”

  Darkness. Faint, muffled voices conversed in the area. Kwon’s eyes struggled to open. Two figures moved around, but his vision was too blurry to identify them. His eyes closed back to darkness.

  On the other side of the forest, Zembok found his way out. A fire was lit in the dark distance with no one near it. He approached the fire and pulled a bag, with a raw fish in it, from his backpack while looking around to see if there was anyone close by. A long, sharp stick lied beside the fire, perfect for skewering. He impaled the deboned fish with the stick and held it over the fire.

  The area was so quiet. Zembok couldn’t help but wonder who would leave a fire unattended like this. Something wrapped around his neck and squeezed real tight. He dropped the fish in the flames. Feeling like his eyes would pop at any moment, Zembok tried to pry someone’s solid arm from his throat, but the person’s strength was way too much. Then he heard a deep, smooth, West African accent say, “Who are you?”

  Zembok gurgled a response.

  “I said, who are you?” the man repeated.

  Zembok responded, “I can’t breathe,” in a raspy voice.

  The man pushed him to the ground. Zembok coughed and rubbed his throat. He looked up. A dark-skinned man, with dirty, worn clothes and scars all over the back of both hands, stood over him. He had a rough-shaven face with a thick goatee. He also had a short, uncombed afro.

  “Have you been following me?” the man asked.

  “I don’t even know who you are.”

  “Don’t lie to me! I’ll cut you into pieces and leave you in this field. Why were you snooping around?”

  “What are you talkin’ about?” Zembok started looking confused. “I didn’t see anybody using the fire, so I started cookin’ my food.”

  “So, you weren’t following me?”

  “No, I swear I wasn’t.”

  The man began to calm down. “My apologies.” The man extended his hand toward Zembok. “The name’s Rufus.�
� Zembok gave him a perplexed look and after a few seconds of hesitation, he grabbed Rufus’s hand. He pulled Zembok to his feet. “The criminals around here are starting at an early age. I had to know who you were. I went to gather a few herbs and then I saw you by the fire. I’m sorry I mistook your identity. But the question still remains, who are you, and why are you out here so late by yourself?”

  “Zembok, and I’m just passin’ through.”

  Rufus nodded and noticed the blackened remains of Zembok’s fish as it popped in the fire. “Your fish is burnt, Zembok. Let me give you some of my food.” Rufus made his way to a spot in the grass on the other side of the fire. He used his hands to dig up a patch of dirt. Inside the hole was a potato sack. Rufus reached in the sack, pulled out two granola bars, and tossed them to Zembok.

  “Thanks,” Zembok said. He tore the ends off of both wrappers with his teeth and spat the paper on the ground. “That fish would’ve been even nicer.”

  “I’ll make it up to you.” Rufus sat on the ground. “So, Zembok, where are you going?”

  “To someplace called Mt. Embor. You ever heard of it?” Zembok pulled the wrappers off and tossed them on the ground.

  “No, but I will be traveling through a few places. Maybe someone can help you, that is, if you want to tag along?”

  “I don’t know. You just tried to choke me to death and you made me drop my food in the fire.”

  “So? You made me drop my herbs once I saw you, and I just gave you some of my food, so stop complaining. You can trust me. It’s just that I get jumpy in areas like this. Anyone can sneak up on you.”

  Zembok put the two bars together and took a big bite.

  Rufus’s eyes gravitated to the pole case on Zembok’s back. “What do you have in the case?”

  Zembok gave him a suspicious glare. “Why, do you wanna take it from me? It’ll be the last thing you see on your highlight reel before you die if you try.”

  Rufus smiled and shook his head. “No, no, I’m just curious.”

  He hesitated as his suspicion subsided. “It’s a fighting pole.” Zembok devoured the rest of his granola bars.

  “Oh, so you’re a martial artist?”

  Zembok shook his head. “Ewamma gwa—,” Zembok’s unintelligible response was due to the oat bits spewing from his overstuffed mouth as he chewed. Rufus just smiled and let bursts of laughter escape through his breath as Zembok paused to finish his meal. “I was tryin’ to say it was my grandpa’s pole. Some jerk-off killed him, so I took it with me. I don’t know how to use it though.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Rufus said as his expression turned sympathetic. Zembok’s expression, on the other hand, was relaxed. He started throwing punches in combinations at the air. Rufus continued, “Y’know, I could teach you how to use that pole as we travel. I’m pretty good with weapons.”

  “I doubt you are. You’ll say anything to get me to go with you. You probably just wanna rob me.”

  “Y’know what, I must look like a thief, because you sure are treating me like one,” he said, irritated. “Now, either you trust me or you don’t?”

  “I don’t. I was told there were bandits all around here, and you might be one of them.”

  “I have no reason to take anything from you. I just want to help, that’s all.”

  Zembok stopped punching the air and sat on the ground. “Okay. I wanna see what you can teach me, but as soon as I find out where Mt. Embor is, I’m gone.”

  Rufus smiled. “Sounds good to me. Let’s keep a close look out tonight. You never know who’s watching you.”

  At Boran’s castle, Adalla lied on her bed petting Mimic, humming a soft melody. Kizm opened the door. “Hey, sweetie. What are you doing up?” He went and sat on the edge of her bed.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she replied.

  “What about that thing? Did she change into anything?”

  “She has a name, dad.”

  Kizm smiled. “I’m sorry. I won’t make that mistake again. Well, did Mimic change into anything?”

  “No, I think she’s still learning.”

  “Oh,” Kizm said, nodding. “Y’know, I was thinking about moving in with Mr. Jurok. What do you think about that?”

  Everyone would love to live in a castle, but Adalla’s big, brown eyes, which were bright every day, filled with melancholy. “I don’t know. I thought we were moving somewhere else? What about meeting friends? I wanted to meet some people my age for once.”

  “You can still meet friends. There are plenty of kids in this town.”

  “But how? Every time I go outside I have to have a group of bodyguards surround me. And what about school? I wanna go learn with other eleven-year-olds. I don’t wanna be stuck in this castle all the time.”

  “Listen to me, sweetie. We’ll take care of it together. Okay? I won’t let you live an unhappy life. I promise.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Get some sleep.” Adalla got under the covers and tucked herself and Mimic in. “And try not to roll over on that thing.” He turned off the lights as he left the room.

  The next day, Zembok and Rufus sat on the side of a dirt road in a small town. Zembok drank soup from a bowl. “Try not to eat too much,” Rufus said. “We have to keep moving.”

  “Aren’t you gonna eat somethin’?” Zembok noticed a pea-sized tattoo in black ink behind the lobe of Rufus’s left ear, but he couldn’t make out what it was.

  “I’ll eat later.” Rufus had his attention on everything but his stomach. He observed a blue van as it passed by them; two doors in the front, double doors in the very back. It stopped at a small building. A dark-skinned man got out of the passenger’s side armed with an assault rifle, wearing a gray tank top and blue jeans. He went inside the building and, within half a minute, came out with two black, medium-sized trash bags. He knocked on the back of the van. A person opened one of the rear doors and grabbed the bags, then closed the door. The man got back in the van, then it pulled off. “It’s time to go,” Rufus said.

  Zembok sucked down what was left of the soup. They both got up, grabbed their things, and started walking.

  Kwon awoke. He was in a house capable of inducing claustrophobia. A kitchen lied ahead of him and three closed doors to his left, all within a few big paces from the door to his right. No one was around. He tried to get up but slid to the floor. There wasn’t a need to try to crawl. The sharp pain shooting from his leg paralyzed his entire body. He looked down to see his ankle wrapped with gauzes and bandages.

  The door to his right creaked open. A petite woman walked in. She could’ve been in her late thirties, or maybe early forties, and had long, dark hair and dark mesmerizing eyes. She carried a handful of herbs into the kitchen. “I hope you’re not trying to escape?” she said. “That’d be a bad idea right now, especially with a palisk rat bite.”

  “Where am I?” Kwon asked.

  “You’re safe. If my son wasn’t around you’d be dead. You’re a pretty lucky kid.” She picked up a pail from the floor, poured water into a bowl sitting on a round table, then placed the herbs in the bowl.

  “I don’t even remember what happened.”

  She looked at him and said, “You were bitten.”

  Kwon managed to sit upright, grunting and breathing through his teeth as he extended his legs in front and rested his back against the couch.

  The woman grabbed a mason jar filled with little green balls from the counter. She opened it and pulled out one of the balls, which looked like tiny, dark Brussels sprouts. She put the jar on the table beside the bowl, went and sat in front of Kwon, and held the morsel to his mouth. “Here, eat this.” He jerked his head back. “It’s not going to hurt you. It’ll numb the pain.”

  Kwon took his precious time receiving the morsel. The bitter taste made him wince.

  She started unwrapping the bandages around his ankle. “These palisk rat bites are very dangerous. A minute or so after you get bit, the bacteria from its saliva rushes to your brain and knocks you u
nconscious. The open wound releases a scent that attracts bigger rats to come and eat you alive, and you won’t even know it. Even if you don’t pass out, the pain that the bacteria causes will stop you in your tracks.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Jasmine.” She had a pleasant voice, one as easy as a melody a person could listen to all day long. “What are you doing out here in these woods? Don’t you know it’s dangerous?”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Jasmine. I’m Kwon.”

  He extended his hand to shake, but she just glanced at it and then glared at him. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Oh, um …” He lowered his rejected hand. “Well, I’m trying to get to Mt. Embor. I was gonna go the other way, but it was blocked.”

  “There should’ve been another path.”

  “It was, but I wanted to avoid getting attacked by any bandits, so I decided not to go that way.”

  Jasmine lifted the gauzes. The bite marks had minor swelling around them. “You should’ve gone anyway, kid.” She got up and threw the bandages and gauzes in a kitchen waste basket.

  A boy around Kwon’s age, with dark hair and sharp eyes, entered the house. His skin was yellow-tan. When he walked past Kwon, he noticed that the boy had a lizard-like tail. A perplexed look came across Kwon’s face while he drifted off into deep thought.

  Jasmine put her hand on her hip, giving the boy a disappointed look as he went to the kitchen area. “Don’t you have anything to say to our guest, Jinn?”

  “No,” he replied. Jinn stopped beside her.

  “You know I raised you better than that. Show some manners.”

  “What for? You’re just going to erase his memory, anyway.”

  “Huh?” Kwon’s eyes bulged.

  “So what?” she said. “You should always be polite to your guests, even if they won’t remember you being polite to them.”

  “What’s this about my memory being erased?”

  “Don’t worry about it, kid. It won’t hurt if you cooperate,” she said.

  “I can’t let that happen. I have to get Mt. Embor.” Kwon started smacking his lips. “I can’t feel my lipth.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” she stated. “After you heal, I’m erasing your memory.”

  “But why?”

  “It doesn’t matter. You won’t remember why.”

  Then it hit Kwon. “Oooooooh!” he shouted like a madman as he pointed at Jinn. “I know who you are. You’re the cweature that was chasing me.”

  “Were you chasing him, Jinn?”

  Jinn shrugged. “Yeah, I got bored. And I’m not a creature, I’m a boy just like you. I’m just different, that’s all.”

  “Oh, no, no, I didn’t mean anything bad by it. Two of my fwiends are twolls … twa … tra … twa … twa …”

  Jasmine frowned. “Did you say trolls?”

  “Yeah, Zion and Zembwaaaaa.” Kwon’s jaw and head dropped as his whole body went limp. “Wha?”

  Jasmine’s face went blank.

  “Are you alright, mom?”

  Jinn’s question brought her back. “I have to prepare lunch.” Even though she spoke, her mind was stuck far away. “Take … uh … uh, Kwon outside. I need some time alone.” Jinn stared at her like she was a stranger. “Go!” she snapped.

  He went over to pick Kwon up as Kwon toppled to his side. Jinn threw him over his shoulder. He made his way to the door and opened it when some sound escaped Kwon’s mouth. It sounded like a question, but it was too mumbled to understand.

  “What?” Jasmine asked.

  “Huh?” Jinn turned around. Kwon’s head smacked the edge of the door, causing him to moan. Jasmine shook her head to let Jinn know that it was nothing. “Oh.” He continued out the door.

  Jasmine took a deep breath. “Zion … Mt. Embor.” She shook her head and went to prepare lunch.

  Kizm and Boran Jurok sat at Boran’s favorite table eating trays of shrimp cocktail. Kizm finished a piece of shrimp and then looked at his watch. “Have somewhere to be?” Boran asked.

  Kizm shook his head. “Just checking the time.” Boran nodded, keeping his attention on Kizm. Kizm wiped his mouth and fingers with a napkin. He folded the napkin and placed it on the table. “You know, my offer still stands. I’m really wanting you to be my partner.”

  “For what, to destroy people’s lives?”

  “You don’t even know what I plan to do.”

  Boran shook his head. “I don’t need to know. I know you too well. All of your plans involve casualties. I’m not going to be part of it.”

  Nebin came into the room. “The two men you sent for are here,” he said to Kizm.

  “Great. Tell them to come in.”

  Nebin left the room. A few seconds later, the mean-looking pirate that led the boat attack and another pirate entered the room. Boran gave them a dirty look.

  Kizm went to greet them with handshakes. “You’re right on time, Krogen. Would you like to join us?”

  “No,” Krogen answered with his booming voice. “We just want our reward.”

  Boran stomped his foot as he stood, smelling the stench of the sea. “What are these, pirates? Get them out of my home! I despise pirates.”

  “Oh,” Krogen said. “I thought this was Kizm’s castle?”

  Boran looked at Kizm with wonder. As Kizm glanced at Boran, his smirk returned. “Your payment is in that chest over there. They were hard to find.”

  “We know,” Krogen said as he and the other pirate made their way over to a big chest by the wall.

  “What is he talking about, Kizm?” Boran asked.

  Krogen opened the chest. Expensive jewelry filled the chest. On top of the jewelry were two wooden human feet. Krogen might’ve been happy, but it was hard to tell since he always only had one expression: mean. “You didn’t have to be so generous.”

  “Trust me, you deserve it.”

  The pirates closed the chest and carried it. “Did the information we gave you help any?”

  “I don’t know, yet. But I’ll find out shortly.”

  Krogen pointed at Kizm. “If our actions somehow throws The Rejects of the Underworld into one of your screwed up games—”

  “Don’t worry. Ticking off a pirate crew will be the very last thing on my bucket list.”

  “It better be.” The pirates left the room.

  Boran approached Kizm. “Don’t ignore me! What kind of stuff are you trying to pull letting pirates into my castle?”

  “That’s the problem. I offered you a partnership and you refused. I’m afraid you’re no longer welcomed in my castle.”

  The anger swelled in Boran’s eyes. “I want you out now!” He shouted, “Guards!” The castle guards came into the room. “See Mr. Kizm here to the streets.”

  The guards didn’t move.

  “Well, what are you standing there for? Get him out!”

  An arrogant breath escaped Kizm. “You still don’t get it. You’re not in charge anymore.” He waved his finger to the guards. They grabbed Boran.

  He tried to struggle with no achievement. “Get your damn hands off me! What are you doing?”

  With his smirk still showing, “Throw him out on the streets.”

  Boran tried to kick Kizm as the guards dragged him out into the hallway. He shouted, “Demon! Demon!” They dragged him past Nebin toward the giant front door. “Don’t just stand there, Nebin, do something!”

  Nebin lowered his head. After seeing that, Boran was too devastated to struggle anymore. He just shook his head with disbelief as they took him outside.

  Kizm put his hand on Nebin’s shoulder. “You made the right choice.”

  The guards threw Boran into the streets and slammed the gate doors. They walked back to the castle, leaving Boran on his hands and knees, shocked and devastated.

  Elsewhere, Zembok’s body made a thud on the ground from his failed attempt at defense. “You should always have your guard up. That’s a basic rule,” Rufus instructed.
<
br />   “You were movin’ too fast. I can’t keep up with you.”

  “Keep practicing.”

  Zembok picked himself and the fighting pole up off the ground. Rufus went to his potato sack, which was lying by a wall in the little lot that they were in, away from the busier part of the second town that they were traveling through. He pulled out five pencil-thin booklets. He shuffled through the booklets and then put all of them, but one, back in the sack.

  He approached Zembok and gave him the booklet. Zembok didn’t know how to respond to the cover. It had a tribal warrior, with lion pelt draped over one shoulder and war paint on his face, on the cover yelling at a mirror image of himself while his mirror image held his head down in shame with a wooden fighting pole in his hand. The title read How to Swing Your Manly Pole. “What the heck is this?”

  “Instructions. Everything you need to know about basic training for your weapon. Study it well. I’ll be back shortly.”

  “Hold up! I thought you said you were good with weapons?”

  “I am. I learned it all from that book.” Rufus went for a walk.

  Zembok noticed that Rufus had left his potato sack behind. Maybe there was something in it that could tell him more about this Rufus fellow. After all, the sack was just sitting there wide open. A slight breeze came through, nudging the sack. It was as if it were whispering, “Come to me, Zembok. Look inside me. See if Rufus can be trusted or if he’s a craaazzy bastard. There might be some severed human ears in me, Zembok. Take a look!”

  That was all the motivation he needed. Zembok had to see what was in there. He went over to the sack and peeked inside. All he could see were the booklets scattered on top. He reached inside, sweeping the booklets out of the way. He heard a snap and then a sharp, throbbing pain shot through his fingers. “Owww!” he shouted. He removed his hand and discovered a mouse trap clamped down on his two middle fingers. “When did he put this in here?”

  Coming from behind, Rufus grabbed the potato sack, shaking his head. “I’m taking this with me.”

  “I thought you were gone?” Zembok asked. He pulled the trap loose, but then it snapped back onto his fingers. “Ah!”

  Rufus didn’t say anything. He just walked away while Zembok peeled off the trap again.

  He walked through the town watching kids play soccer on the dirt road. The kids scattered from the road as the same blue van from before passed through. It stopped at another building, a police station with two uniformed men standing out front drinking from coffee mugs. Rufus leaned up against a light pole, keeping a good distance to prevent being spotted.

  Another officer came out from the building to join the two coffee drinkers. Just like before, the man hopped out of the passenger side of the van. He approached the officer that just came from inside. They said a few words, then the officer went back inside and came out with a trash bag and a small, black velvet bag. He gave the bags to the van passenger. Just as before, the passenger knocked on the back doors of the van. This time when the person in the back opened the door Rufus noticed a second person in the van with an assault rifle. The person at the door took the bags and closed the door. The officer went back into the station. The passenger got into the van and it pulled away.

  Rufus found the nearest garbage can, checked to make sure no one was looking, then he hid the potato sack inside.

  Inside the police station, the officer went back to his business. He entered his office, closed the door, sat at his desk, pulled a book from the drawer, and started reading it.

  Fog started to flow through a small crack in the wall. But this fog wasn’t ordinary. It was a black fog. In no time, it covered the floor. The officer continued to read his book, unaware of his surroundings.

  The fog covered the windows, turning the room pitch black. The officer turned his attention away from the book. He pulled out his handgun.

  A window slammed shut, but he couldn’t see anything. He jumped up and moved his eyes all around the room, backing into the nearest corner, where unbeknownst to him, Rufus waited, blending in with the fog. A double-edged katana blade emerged from the outward side of Rufus’s right arm, going from the forearm to fifteen inches past his tight fist, with the slight curve going in the direction of his fist.

  He wrapped his left arm around the officer’s chest and pressed the blade to his throat. “If you make one move,” he said in an ominous tone, “I’ll carve my name into your throat. If you cooperate, this will only take a few seconds. Now drop the gun!”

  The officer dropped the gun. He kept a cool head. “What do you want?”

  “The van. What’s in it, and where’s it going?”

  “I can’t tell you that.” Rufus grazed his skin with the blade. The officer flinched—this caused the cut to open a bit more.

  “Just cooperate with me.”

  “The van has money in it. The money is going to a bank that has just been built.”

  “Why is the money being moved?”

  “Security reasons.”

  “Security reasons?” Rufus snapped. “How many stops are left?”

  “Two.”

  “One more question. What was in the small bag?”

  “I don’t know. I swear. I wasn’t allowed to open it.”

  Rufus paused. He dug his blade further into the officer’s throat. The slightest move would end it all. He held it there, making the officer sweat. “I guess I’ll have to find out myself.”

  Rufus took the blade away from the officer’s throat. He hit the officer in the back of the head with his fist. The officer fell to the ground unconscious. Rufus escaped through the window.

  Long after the black fog dispersed from the station and Rufus’s presence couldn’t be tracked, the officer sat at his desk on the phone. He had a bandage over his cut, and he held the back of his head in agony. “No, don’t put me on hold again!” he ordered, frustrated. “Don’t put me on hold! I need to speak to Captain Zubu. Well, can you give him a message for me? Tell him that Rittiku is still alive.”

  Back in the forest, Kwon sat on the ground leaned against a tree while Jinn scooped rocks from the ground and threw them at another tree. Kwon moved his arms around and rolled his neck. “I can feel the top half of my body, but I still can’t feel my legs.”

  “Yeah,” Jinn said. “She always uses something powerful. Even if you catch a cold she’ll give you some stuff that’ll keep you sleep for days.”

  “That’s kinda scary.”

  Jinn stopped throwing rocks. “I really don’t want you to go yet, anyway. I don’t meet many people my age. I can’t even leave the forest. And when someone does come through here she wipes away their memory.”

  “So, do they remember who they are?”

  “Yeah, they remember all that stuff. They just don’t remember us or this house or this part of the forest.”

  “But why does she do that?”

  “I don’t know why exactly, but I think it has something to do with the witch that built this house.”

  “A witch?” The mention of a witch didn’t scare Kwon, but for some reason, he couldn’t get rid of the eerie music only his brain could hear that came from when he used to play Otem’s dark-themed symphony records while reading horror novels. The music always enhanced his experience and helped him concentrate on the story.

  “Yeah, an old witch. My mom met her when she was young. The witch took her in and gave her a place to stay. She even taught my mom some magic. That’s how she’s able to erase people’s memories. Well, anyway …” Jinn moved closer to Kwon and got on one knee. “Something happened a long time ago. These two men killed a bunch of people and she had something to do with it. I don’t really know the story, though. My mom never tells me anything. All I know is that she ran as far as she could and settled here, a place where nobody would find her. My mom still wants to keep this place a secret for some reason.”

  “What happened to the witch?”

  “She died before I was born. Guess where the body is.”<
br />
  “Where?”

  Jinn pointed to the house. “Under there.”

  “What, in the basement or something?”

  “No, man, she’s buried under the house.”

  “Oh, but why is she under the house?”

  “So no one can find her, even after death.”

  Kwon nodded. “Ohhh, okay, yeah, you people are weird. That all sounds weird. If your mom knows magic, why didn’t she just heal me instead of give me that nasty food?”

  “You obviously don’t know a lot about magic. You can use it in a bunch of ways. When I brought you here yesterday your bite had already started looking real colorful and gross. Now take a look at it.”

  Kwon reached down and pulled up his pants leg. The bite marks were gone and the swelling had subsided. He was awestruck. “That’s not how it looked a while ago.”

  “Of course, it’s not.”

  Jasmine came outside and shouted, “Come get lunch!”

  Jinn threw Kwon over his shoulder and took him in the house. Jasmine followed behind them with a murderous look on her face as Jinn sat Kwon down at the kitchen table. He pulled up a stool and sat to the left of Kwon.

  Jasmine reached over Kwon’s shoulder and placed the strange medallion next to the pie she had made. “Where did you get this?”

  Kwon frowned. “You went through my stuff?”

  “Of course, I did. I don’t know you. Now tell me, where did you get that medallion?”

  “I found it on my—” Kwon squinted his eyes at her. “On second thought, how about I don’t tell you, since you’re going to erase my memory.”

  She pressed her index fingers against Kwon’s temples. “Tell me why you have this or I’ll fry your brain so bad you’ll walk around mooing like a cow!”

  “No, mom, don’t,” Jinn exclaimed.

  “Stay out of this, Jinn! He’s asking for it. I hope you like your new life as a cow, Kwon!”

  Kwon whined, “No, mom, doooon’t. It was in my grandfather’s hand … after he was murdered.”

  Kwon’s answer calmed her down instantly. She patted Kwon’s shoulders as her way of apologizing. Then she sat on the other side of the table. “That answers one question. Zion, where did you meet him?”

  “Not too far away from here. Why, do you know him?”

  “I don’t know him,” she said, “but Palpa knew him.”

  “Who’s Palpa?”

  “She used to live here.”

  “Oh.” Kwon’s eyes lit up. “You mean the witch?”

  Jasmine rolled her eyes, directing them at Jinn. “You really don’t know how to keep a secret, do you?”

  Jinn shrugged. “It slipped out.”

  “Yeah, it always slips out.”

  “What I don’t get is how did you bury her under the house?”

  “What else did you tell him, Jinn? See, this is one of the main reasons why I have to clear people’s memories. I tell you all the time that everything is for you and I to know only.”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” Jinn said with no remorse whatsoever.

  “So there really is a dead witch under the house?”

  “Yes,” Jasmine said. “If you don’t believe me we can spend the rest of the afternoon digging a tunnel under the house so I can prove that there’s an old, dead corpse there?”

  “Nah, I’m not that interested.”

  “Can we eat now?” Jinn blurted.

  “Go ahead,” she said. Jinn cut himself a big piece of pie, made from various birds in the forest. He picked his plate up with both hands, then he dug his face in it, devouring the food. “Why don’t you ever use your fork, Jinn?” He smiled at her and shrugged his shoulders. “Anyway,” she continued. “Moving on to the next question. Did you show Zion the medallion?”

  “Yeah,” Kwon answered. “He told me to give it to Goopa, who lives on Mt. Embor.”

  “Did he tell you anything about Goopa or the medallion?”

  “No, he didn’t need to tell me anything about Goopa. My grandpa told me all about him. They used to go on adventures all the time. He said they were best friends.”

  Jasmine gave Kwon a curious look. “What was your grandfather’s name?”

  “His name was Otem Kiwambe.”

  Jasmine started to look worried. “This is not good.”

  “What’s not good?” Kwon asked.

  “I’ll be right back.” Jasmine hopped up from the table and bolted to her bedroom. She slammed the door.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Kwon asked, confused.

  Jinn gave a worried, “I don’t know.”

  Meanwhile, Rufus walked along the sidewalk keeping an eye out for any pursuing police officers since he still roamed around the same town. He observed the blue van pulling into a well-guarded lot. Seventeen police officers kept watch over the van.

  The driver and the passenger got out of the van. The people in the back didn’t get out, though. The driver and the passenger went inside a building next to the lot with a gallon jug of homemade liquor so strong that Rufus smelled the fumes escape their pores from down the street. He kept walking.

  Back in the forest, Kwon and Jinn, following Jinn’s lead, ate the rest of the pie straight from the pan with their hands. Jasmine brought a thick book to the table and sat down.

  “Is everything alright, mom?”

  “Everything’s fine, Jinn. Kwon, I need you to tell me everything your grandfather told you.”

  A lump of food went down Kwon’s throat before he could answer. “He told me that he used to be a treasure hunter.”

  She expected that answer, not the treasure hunter part, but the fact that Kwon was oblivious. “He didn’t tell you anything else?”

  “No.”

  “What if I told you that everything your grandpa told you was a lie?”

  As expected, Kwon’s reaction was defensive. “You can say what you want, but don’t ever call my grandpa a liar! He never told a lie.”

  She remained calm. “But what if he did? What if he was trying to protect you from the truth?”

  “What would he have to protect me from? My grandpa would never lie to me.”

  “Did he ever tell you about the Guardian Sages?”

  “No, he never mentioned the Guardian Sages. What did they guard?”

  “Everything. A long time ago there was a world martial arts tournament that Otem participated in. The competition was down to four people: The brother and sister, Raishu and Gora—they were half human and half demon, but their demon features were very apparent; they were the favors in the competition; Raishu had to face Otem and Gora had to face Zion, but there was a plot stirring behind the scenes.

  “You see, some demons were planning to assassinate a prime minister from … China, I think. I don’t remember exactly who or what he was. Anyway, before he even stepped in the ring, Raishu forfeited his match. Then Gora forfeited her match, also, before it began. So Zion and Otem had to not tick the fans off even more with their fight. But they kept everyone from leaving from what I heard, so I guess it was an all right fight.”

  “Did my grandpa win?” Kwon asked, excited.

  “Nobody won. The demons launched their attack in the middle of the match. They were disguised as humans the whole time, paid to kill the prime minister. Raishu, Gora, Otem, Zion, and a couple of other fighters stood up to fight the demons. The battle was so intense that they almost destroyed the entire arena. And, on a side note, Zion became the champion in the next tournament a couple years later.

  “Well, after stopping the assassination attempt, Raishu came up with an idea. He wanted to find the fighters that helped them defeat the demons and create a group of fighters who could prevent this from happening again. So Gora and Raishu set out to find those fighters. After they found them they formed the group. The group didn’t have a name at first. They trained and got stronger. Whenever trouble arose they were there. The people of Earth depended on them. Then over time they got the name … The Guardian Sages. The grou
p was made up of six people: The leader, Raishu, Gora, Za, Goopa, Zion, and your grandfather, Otem.”

  Jasmine opened the book. It was a photo album filled with old Polaroid photos. She pulled a picture out and gave it to Kwon. It stunned him when he looked at it. Otem and Zion were laughing as Zion had Otem in a headlock, both surprised to have their picture taken.

  “Do you see now?” she asked. “He wasn’t a treasure hunter. Every story he told you wasn’t a total lie. He just changed them. Instead of searching for treasures he was preventing them from getting in the wrong hands. Your grandfather was a hero.”

  Confused, Kwon asked, “But why would he keep that a secret? He should’ve been proud of that.”

  “It’s more to the story. Have you ever heard of the name, Kizm?”

  “No.”

  “But I’m assuming that Jinn told you about Palpa, right?”

  “Um, yeah, a little bit.” Kwon replied.

  “What I’m about to tell you is important,” she started. “A few years before the Guardian Sages met, there was an academy for witches. One rainy night a pregnant woman showed up at the academy. She was scarred and bruised from head to toe and exhausted. Back then, the academy trained only the brightest and most talented females. There were no scholarships and you couldn’t buy your way in. The only way you were accepted was if the Witches Council handpicked you.”

  “Who were the Witches Council?” Jinn chimed in. “You never told me all of this.”

  “They were the best. Eight women, all over the age of fifty. They knew everything about magic. They ran the whole academy. Any and everything had to be approved by the council.

  “Well, anyway, when the woman showed up, the council took her in, agreeing that she would have to leave after she gave birth. But the woman was so afraid of going back out into the world that she threatened to harm herself and the baby. So after negotiating with her, the council decided to let her stay and raise the child until it was old enough to go out on its own. Now the crazy thing is, she went into labor right there in the meeting room as soon as they finished talking, and when Kizm came out of the womb he didn’t even cry, he just looked around like he’d been waiting for that moment. The way the stories go, Kizm was born three weeks early. Some people believe he forced his way out.

  “As Kizm got older his mother talked to him a lot. One of the council members overheard an intimate conversation. His mother told him that his father and everyone she ever trusted used her and treated her like crap. She told him nobody cared about him but her, and all of this other stuff about how she hated the world and to hurt others before they hurt him.

  “By the time Kizm was six, he learned magic by watching the witches practice. He practiced every night when no one was looking. When he was nine he had a crush on a girl at the academy, but when he told her how he felt, she laughed at him. Then the council took notice when the girl and her best friend turned up dead. At that time, Palpa had joined the council. She was only twenty-four years old, being the youngest council member in history. She knew what the elders knew and then some. She was considered to have the potential to be the greatest witch ever.

  “The council knew Kizm had killed those girls, but he was getting so strong that they couldn’t do anything about it. He was too powerful now. It scared the crap out of them. Then someone hired an assassin to kill Kizm with a poisonous arrow, but they failed. They missed him and killed his mother instead. Kizm and the Witches Council already weren’t seeing eye-to-eye at the time. He knew they approved the attempt on his life, so the crazy bastard started killing the council members one by one.

  “He had killed all but three until Palpa came up with a plan to stop him. She used one of the elders as bait. When he sprung to kill the witch, Palpa used a powerful spell to knock him unconscious. Then she erased his memory. Palpa and the elders had dumped him in the desert. By the time Kizm woke up, he didn’t know anything. All he knew was his first name.”

  “Wait,” Kwon interjected. “What about his mother? Did he remember her?”

  “No. And it’s a good thing he didn’t remember her. The reason why she had so much hatred was because the man that she fell in love with was not human but a demon who let his friends destroy her dignity over and over again. If he’d remembered that, he’d be a lot worse than he already is.”

  “So what happened to him after that?” Jinn asked.

  “Well, Goopa and Zion found him wandering the desert when they were coming from an assignment. When they found him he was out of it. He was dehydrated, they could barely understand what he was saying and, on top of that, he couldn’t remember a damn thing. They took him to their home base to get better. It’s the same place you’re headed, Kwon, Mount Embor. The Guardian Sages gave him a home, and within four months he became the seventh member.” Jasmine sighed. “But that’s all I can tell you right now. I have to go do something.”

  “But—”

  She ignored Kwon while darting out of the front door.

  At the castle, Kizm sat behind an outlandishly giant desk. He basked in the comfort of his new office. Nebin came into the room and approached the desk. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  “Nebin, Boran told me about some businesses he had a hand in. Can you get in touch with those people?”

  “Yes, sir, I can.” His voice never sounded so joyless until now.

  “You know what, don’t do anything. I’ll get one of my soldiers to do the work. From now on, you’re not an assistant anymore. As I promised, you will get what you deserve. I want you to be my consultant. Tell me what I’m doing right and what I’m doing wrong.”

  Nebin forced himself to smile. “Yes, sir, I’ll do that. You won’t regret it.”

  “But there is one thing I want you to do for me.” Kizm started rubbing his hands together as if he were lathering soap in his palms. “I need you to book a flight for four to America.”

  Jasmine arrived at an area far away from her house. She held a handful of seeds. With her index finger, she dug a hole into the ground and planted one of the seeds. As soon as she covered the hole with dirt, a tiny, pink flower popped up from the soil. Then the ground rumbled. The flower grew to an enormous size like the other giant flower. She started caressing the stem. “I need you to be my eyes. Alert me if any intruders come.”

  The droopy flower nodded. Jasmine went off to plant more seeds throughout the forest.

  Time passed by, and as the cool moon replaced the blazing sun, Rufus and Zembok entered a small church. Most churches began staying open twenty-four hours a day wherever there were worshippers, especially after so much danger spread across the world.

  Zembok asked, “What are we doing here?” as he looked around at all the crucifixes lining the walls of the empty building.

  “This is where we’re going to sleep tonight. It’s much safer here.”

  “Safer from what?”

  “Just trust me. It’s much safer.”

  “My grandpa was really religious, but I never really thought about the stuff. It’s so many of ‘em. I don’t know which ones to believe. I can hear him right now telling me, ‘Zembok, you’ll never know peace until you find God’. So are you a religious nut like he was?”

  Rufus’s eyes dropped to his lower right corners, thinking it over. “I don’t know.”

  “How could you not know? Either you believe or you don’t.”

  “Get ready for bed,” Rufus started walking toward the exit, “while I go get dinner.”

  Rufus left the church. Zembok put his stuff down on one of the pews.

  In the forest, Jasmine returned home. Kwon and Jinn played cards on the floor. Jasmine rushed to the kitchen.

  “Are you gonna tell us the rest of the story?” Kwon asked.

  “Yeah, as soon as I finish making dinner.” She raced around the kitchen tossing food in pots she gathered.

  Back in America, Bohr sat behind towering hedges on the unoccupied property across the street from the professor’s house.
He leered uninterrupted at Shalmer’s home until the professor’s wife and kids: twenty-two-year-old daughter, nineteen-year-old son, thirteen-year-old son, and ten-year-old daughter, pulled into the driveway. They got out of the minivan and went into the house. Bohr approached the house with such comfort he could be mistaken as a family member himself if anyone were outside.

  He eased the door open, stepped in, and then eased it shut. Muffled chattering came from different parts of the house. Bohr wanted to take the time to listen to the environment. He needed to know where everyone was so he could knock them unconscious before they escaped.

  The entire plan changed when he neglected to notice the quick, light footsteps come from the stairs up ahead. As the twenty-two-year-old daughter spotted him she screamed. In two leaps, he hopped to the fourth step and chopped her in the jugular vein. She passed out, tumbling down the stairs.

  The nineteen-year-old came rushing down the steps. He threw a punch at Bohr. Bohr ducked, punched the boy in the gut, picked him up under his arm pits as he hunched over in pain, and tossed him onto a glass coffee table in the living room to his right, shattering it and rendering the boy helpless.

  The ten-year-old ran from the kitchen, which was to the left of the front door. She got close enough to grasp the door knob. She twisted it. She slung it open. Her mouth opened wide to let out a shriek for help. The sound was muffled by a cuffing palm. Bohr slammed the door shut and shoved her into the wall. The impact on the back of her head knocked her unconscious.

  The professor’s wife came into the living room from the back of the house to see what was going on. Horrified by the sight of the bodies and Bohr, she screamed and then ran toward the kitchen. He grabbed her, but she raked her fingernails across his left eyelid, causing her to slip away when he grunted in pain. He chased after her. She took a bottle of wine from its rack and broke it over Bohr’s helmet. He continued to chase her as she tried to get to the cordless phone, which was lying on the dining room table past the kitchen, but then he grabbed her.

  The thirteen-year-old came from behind Bohr, jumping on his back. Bohr threw the wife against the refrigerator. The contents inside shifted as she smacked into it and then fell to the floor. Bohr gripped the boy’s shirt real tight, flipped him over onto the floor, and then chopped him in the jugular vein, knocking him out.

  Back in the forest, Jasmine sat a bowl of rice in front of Kwon, his portion to go with the beef curried stew steaming on the center of the table. She let out a deep sigh of relief and sat down at the table.

  “Eat up,” she urged.

  Jinn and Kwon took turns ladling stew over their rice. “Are you going to finish the story or what?” Jinn asked.

  “Yeah, ummm, where was I?” she asked.

  Kwon replied, “You said something about Kizm becoming a Guardian.”

  “Oh, yeah. Kizm became one of the Guardian Sages, and with him around they were unstoppable. Every challenge was nothing to them now. The Guardian Sages put a lot of work into Kizm. He was their prized fighter, almost as strong as Raishu in less than a year. But the stronger he got the more he changed. You see, Kizm was never really part of the group to save lives. He just convinced them that he was. He only wanted the action. So one night, he left.”

  “Why?” Kwon asked, scooping a spoonful of dinner in his mouth.

  “Well, he started feeling different … angry a lot. He got tired of just taking orders all the time. He wanted more than that, or at least that’s what he told Palpa.”

  “Palpa?” Kwon looked confused.

  “Yes.” She continued, “When Kizm left, none of the Guardian Sages knew about it. They figured he’d just went away to train alone. That is until a few months later when they got a distress call. People in a village in Cambodia were disappearing. Later, the Guardian Sages found out that Kizm was behind it. He was after an artifact that could make a person invincible, but it required the sacrifice of one hundred and thirty lives. The Guardian Sages went to stop Kizm before he could fulfill his purpose.

  “At the same time, Palpa was on a journey to collect the same artifact so she could take it to the academy. She’d heard about it from a shaman that she knew. Well, to make a long story short, Palpa helped the Guardian Sages stop Kizm and obtained the artifact. Kizm got away, barely.

  “After that, the Guardian Sages got help from Palpa and the shaman whenever they needed them. Kizm went and hid. Then the day Palpa wished she could’ve avoided came a few months later … when Kizm paid her a visit. He had seen how strong of an ally she was to the Guardian Sages, so he offered her a place by his side. She refused at first, but Kizm threatened to kill the Guardian Sages one by one. For some reason, though, Kizm didn’t want to harm his former mentors himself. He had a strange connection with them, almost like an obsession. But he was willing to do it if she refused, so she took his offer.”

  “She took his offer just like that?” Kwon asked. “My grandpa and his friends could’ve stopped him, couldn’t they?”

  Jasmine shook her head. “No. By the time Kizm resurfaced he was a lot stronger. They didn’t stand a chance individually, and she knew he could wipe them out.”

  Kwon said, “Why didn’t she just warn the Guardian Sages so they would be prepared?”

  “It’s not that easy, kid. Kizm always finds a way to trick you.”

  “Did he remember her in any way?” Jinn chimed in.

  “Not at all. Nothing about her reminded him of the past. Hey, why don’t you two actually put the food in your mouths instead of spilling it everywhere?”

  “Oh, sorry.” As Kwon apologized, rice and stew dripped from his lips as he shoved a spoonful of it in his mouth.

  “You boys eat like four-year-olds.”

  “C’mon, mom, what happened next?”

  “Let’s see.” She looked upward. “What happened next? Oh, yeah, she became his eyes. She used her magic to read the future and the present. It’s funny how she didn’t read the past though, right?”

  Jasmine’s joke flew way over their heads, leaving two silent stares behind.

  She just went ahead with the story. “Anyway, she mentioned a man that she saw. He’d just lost his family. Otem met him and took him to Mt. Embor. The man eventually became a student. The Guardian Sages taught him everything. He was an average person, but while he learned from the Guardian Sages, he got stronger by each day. Kizm found out about the man’s weakness through a vision Palpa had. The man wanted revenge against the person that murdered his family. Kizm took note of this and visited the man when no one was around. He offered to help do what the Guardian Sages wouldn’t do … find the man’s killer.

  “The man went to find Kizm and became his apprentice. The man was strong, but he wasn’t strong enough. Kizm made some tailors make an outfit that would fit only that man. Then he had Palpa use her magic to make the outfit enhance the man’s physical strength twelve times his normal strength as long as he wore the outfit. Then he had a blacksmith create a helmet for the man. He had Palpa cast a spell on the helmet to help the man remember the Guardian Sages’ moves. So as long as he wore the helmet he would remember everything the Guardian Sages taught him, which meant he would remember their unique styles during combat. Kizm had a plan to take over the world by force, and with his new friend, he was sure it would work.

  “They traveled around. Going from town to town. City to city. Killing everyone who opposed them. But at times they butted heads. Kizm had the witch do one more favor. He was concerned that the man was becoming too strong and that he would try to take over as the leader, so he wanted Palpa to put a curse on the helmet. As long as the man wore the helmet, he had to do whatever Kizm said.

  “After the bodies started to pile up, Palpa decided to warn the Guardian Sages. They had heard about the attacks, but were still unaware of what was going on. She told them everything and, of course, they didn’t hesitate to jump into action.

  “They tried their best to stop the duo, but Raishu and Gora were killed
by the powerful man. Palpa told them how to stop the man by stripping his outfit piece by piece. So that’s what they did and they defeated him. Kizm did what he does best, ran away as soon as the man was overpowered.

  “After all of that, Palpa felt guilty for giving the man so much power. The Guardian Sages put him in a cave and then the witch put a curse on it. No human could enter or exit the cave. The man had to stay in there, not being able to eat, not being able to sleep, and not even being able to take his own life. He had to suffer for his crimes until the end of time.

  “His outfit was put into a glass case and sealed by the witch’s magic. The Guardian Sages disposed of the outfit. Now as far as the Guardian Sages go, Za was the next qualified member to take over the group, but he disappeared. He and the other Guardians felt too vulnerable, so they all disappeared. The man that helped Kizm weaken the Guardian Sages was named Bohr.”

  Jasmine reached across the table to grab the medallion, which was still in the same spot. She held it up and said, “This is his signature. He leaves it on the bodies of people he targets. The design has something to do with his family. Most likely, Kizm had him kill your grandfather. I don’t know how he broke the curse, but Bohr is out and about. So that means Kizm is up to something.”

  Kwon looked confused. “But why my grandpa? Is he getting revenge?”

  “Probably. Look, all I can tell you is to ask Goopa. He knows more than I do. The only reason I know this stuff is because Palpa was an old lady who liked to talk too much.”

  “What was Palpa like, anyway?” Kwon asked. “Was she nice?”

  “No, not really. She was kind of a cunt … and crazy too.” Jasmine waved her hand around. “Her mind was all over the place.” She got up from the table. “Well I see you guys are finished. Go get ready for bed, or do something productive with your lives while I clean up.”

  She placed the medallion on the table. Kwon picked it up and stared at it, wishing he knew more.

  The same design lied on Professor Shalmer’s WELCOME mat as Bohr’s signature waited to greet the professor.

  Returning home after staying late at work, he approached the mat and picked up the medallion. He gave it a curious gaze. “I wonder where this came from.”

  The professor entered the house and put his briefcase down beside the door. “Hello,” he yelled. “I’m home.” His voice echoed through the house. The broken table in the living room was replaced by a similar but smaller table from the attic—the original table that had stood there years ago. The difference didn’t catch the professor’s eye. The lack of any mess in the living room made everything seem normal.

  He went into the kitchen and spotted a note taped to the refrigerator. Just like in the living room, any evidence of a struggle had disappeared. He took the note off and read it. “She took the kids out with her friends, huh? They could’ve waited for me.”

  He opened the fridge and pulled out a glass dish of tuna casserole. He took the plastic wrapping off and then turned on the oven. “I might want to go out sometimes, have a good time with the family.” He leaned against the counter, waiting for the oven to preheat.

  After the food was done, he took his meal into his private library, in a huge room added to the back of the house. He placed his food on a round table and went to a shelf near the back of the room where he ran his finger across the titles, picked out the first book that interested him, and went back to the table. He turned on a reading lamp, sat down, and then started perusing the pages. Before he could stab the casserole with his fork he heard a voice say, “You sure do got a lot of books.”

  The professor’s head spun around, startled. “Who said that?”

  Bohr stepped out of the shadows. “Did you read ‘em all or is it just for show?”

  “Who are you? How did you get in my house?”

  Bohr strolled to the table.

  The professor ordered, “Don’t come any closer! I have a stun gun.”

  “That won’t do you any good. I’ve been struck by a bolt of lightning and it didn’t stop me. Go ahead, pull it.”

  The professor didn’t move either hand toward his proclaimed weapon.

  Bohr rested his fingertips on the table. “Bluffing can get you killed, y’know.”

  “What do you want? I don’t have much to take.”

  “By the looks of this house you have plenty, but I only want one thing.” The professor stared at Bohr’s outfit. He noticed the professor’s eyes lingering. “What, you like it?” he asked with a quick smile.

  “I’ve seen that outfit before. Where did you get it?”

  “A friend gave it to me.”

  “Is your friend a pirate?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Bohr insisted. “Look, I only came to get some information. The longer I talk to you about nothing, the more time I lose. Now tell me what you know about the blue gemstone bracelet.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

  Bohr snatched a knife from his belt and jammed it through the professor’s right hand into the table. Professor Shalmer shouted in pain.

  “You might want to think harder!” Bohr yelled.

  The professor fought through the pain, gritting his teeth. “I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t play with me. You used to be an archaeologist. You found a bracelet a long time ago. Where is it?”

  “The only bracelet I can think of is the one I saw when I was looking for an ancient relic, but that was so long ago.”

  “Tell me what you remember.”

  Professor Shalmer thought hard. “I saw a beautiful blue item in the same ruins, but it was heavily booby trapped. I couldn’t get to it, so I left it. I got drunk at a bar and told some people what I had seen. Then I came back home. That’s it.”

  “That’s it, huh?” Bohr gave him an untrustworthy look.

  “Yes!” the professor shouted, frustrated.

  Bohr got in the professor’s face. “My father was a scientist. You wanna know what happened to him? He lost his life because some colleagues of his wanted an artifact that was supposed to be worth a lot of money. They killed him. They took a good man’s life,” Bohr held his hands out in front of the professor, “for something that you can probably hold in your hands.” Bohr walked over to a rope tied to one of the bookshelves. “You know what I think about that? It’s selfish. All you explorers and science types only care about one thing. You all want to prove something. It doesn’t matter who gets hurt. As long as you have something to brag about, anything goes.”

  Bohr untied the rope and lowered what was on the other end bit by bit. The professor’s family descended from the rafters, tied together by more rope with duct tape covering their mouths. Awakened by the rocking of the descent, their helpless shrieking frightened the professor.

  “No, no, please, no! Please, no!” Professor Shalmer cried out.

  Bohr placed them on the ground in front of the entrance and said, “As of now … anything goes.”

  “Please, don’t harm them. They’re all I have.”

  Bohr made his way over to a can of kerosene sitting by one of many kerosene heaters. He picked it up and walked over to the professor’s family.

  The professor tried to pry himself from the table, but the knife wouldn’t budge. “Don’t do it, please!”

  Bohr drenched the family with kerosene, dashing it on them. Kerosene splashed and spilled everywhere, surrounding the family. Then he threw the empty can and went and grabbed another one. He approached the professor.

  “Please leave them alone,” Professor Shalmer begged. His eyes filled with water.

  “If you tell me what I need to know, you and your family will go free.”

  The professor shook his head. “No we won’t.”

  Bohr pulled another knife and jammed it through the professor’s left foot with enough impact to penetrate the wooden floorboard. The professor screamed in agony. Bohr stomped the knife into the floor. Professor Shalmer s
creamed louder and louder with each stomp until he started crying.

  Bohr poured kerosene all over the professor and tossed the can. “Tell me what I need to know!” he shouted.

  Tears poured down his face as he gasped for air. “Some people … took … a great interest … in my story. When I came home I got curious. I wanted to know … why. So … I went to find the bracelet. I heard about a shaman who broke the bracelet into four pieces and scattered them around the world.”

  “Where can I find the pieces?”

  The professor’s left leg trembled. The pain delayed his answer as he gathered himself. “Even if you find them you can’t acquire them.”

  “Answer the question!”

  “I’m trying to tell you. Have you heard of the twelve colossi that roamed the earth hundreds of years ago?”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard stories. They’re in slumber now, aren’t they? Waiting to be freed or something like that?”

  “Yes. There are four colossi remaining. They’re bound to protect their geographical homes. The only way they can be freed now is if they’re destroyed. The pieces of the bracelet lie within the colossi, but I’ve only discovered the locations of three of them. The fourth is just a guess. I kept a journal of my expedition.”

  “Where is it?”

  Professor Shalmer pointed to one of the shelves on the back wall. “It’s the big red book on the middle row.”

  Bohr went to the shelf and grabbed the only red book in the row. He opened it. Handwritten in cursive, the book contained over a decade of adventures with each journey sectioned off by colored label strips. He tucked the book under his arm.

  “Will you spare my family now?” the professor asked.

  Bohr looked at him. He unzipped his pouch. “It depends. Nothing should matter more to a man than his family.” He pulled out a book of matches and lit one. “Can you save yours?” He threw the lit match to the base of the wall. A trail of kerosene lead all around the room on the base of the walls.

  The professor made a foolish judgement ignoring the strong smell of kerosene when he entered the room. But then again, kerosene was the primary heating source for the library. Two thoughts went through his mind: the first being regret for not spending the extra bit of money to have the electric heating system flow into his private room. The second thought was knowing that the same kerosene that kept him warm during cold nights was about to give his family a chilling end.

  The flame burned along the trail. Bohr shot two energy bombs at a metal beam on the ceiling. The beam fell and knocked the professor’s family unconscious, except for the ten-year-old daughter.

  The professor tried his best to get free as Bohr inched toward him. Pulling the knife out with his left hand didn’t work before, so he decided to wiggle the knife as he pulled it by the handle. As the knife became looser and looser, it also tore his hand open even more. The knife came out of the table. He fell to the ground with the knife still in his hand. He yanked his leg a few times to free the other knife from the floor.

  Bohr lit another match and threw it on the professor’s back. He began crawling toward his family as the flames spread down his legs, covered his back, across his arms, and over his dark hair. The professor moaned from the searing pain, but he never stopped, not even for a split second. His daughter cried as she watched his determination to save her life. Bohr sat back and watched with a straight face.

  Professor Shalmer got close to his family. Only a few feet and he could touch the rope to free his family from his burden. But when Bohr covered the professor’s family with kerosene, a trail flowed off of the step near the entrance, a trail that Professor Shalmer did not see. When he reached out to crawl another inch, the flame on his hand ignited the trail. Within seconds it engulfed his family. The professor passed out and burned to death.

  His ten-year-old daughter was still conscious while the fire consumed her. She screamed loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear. By that time, the whole library was on fire and spreading into the rest of the house. Bohr flew through the sky light. He landed on top of another house on the next street. The neighbors crowded in the street, watching the professor’s house burn. Sirens could be heard closing in on their location. Bohr looked at the journal, then he flew away. He planned to memorize what he needed and then discard the journal.

  That night, Zembok lay sound asleep by the chapel podium. But while he rested without worry, Rufus sat in the middle of the center aisle staring at the front door. He rubbed his stinging red eyes, constantly blinking and rubbing his heavy lids.

  The front door swung open. It smacked the wall. Rufus jumped to his feet. There was no one at the door but the wind, though. Wait. Someone. A woman. She had ebony skin and her hair was short like a rose bud. A flawless white dress waved on her slender body as she began walking down the aisle.

  “Mama,” he breathed.

  As she walked past him, he tried to touch her but his legs weakened, causing him to fall to his knees. He became winded due to the sight of the runny knife in her back.

  “Mama, I tried. I tried, mama,” he cried out.

  She didn’t say anything, just continued walking until she stood over Zembok. She turned toward Rufus.

  He nodded several times. “I know. He reminds me of him too. Mama, I didn’t give up, I swear. But I’m afraid if they find me he’ll be lost forever. I don’t think I can beat them!”

  She smiled.

  “Are you sure it will be okay?” She began to fade away. He shouted, “Mama!”

  Zembok awoke, startled. He wondered why Rufus was sleeping in the aisle. He shrugged it off and went back to sleep.

  Rufus rubbed his eyes while he played possum. He kept whispering, “I need sleep. I need sleep.”

  The next morning, people walked around and peddlers advertised their goods throughout Taruh’s busy streets. Boran Jurok slept on the ground. He woke up as a person stumbled over him. He looked around. A young boy, about ten or eleven, stood on the side of the road. He had topaz skin with a Charlie Brown head—hair and all—and he wore stain-covered clothes that sagged on his body.

  The boy crept up to the buyers as they were hypnotized by one of the peddler’s words. He began picking people’s pockets from one side of the crowd to the other with his stubby fingers, tossing away stuff he didn’t want. Boran spotted the boy, though no one else did.

  Boran shouted, “Hey, hey you!” He got up and walked toward the boy. He ran when he saw Boran approaching. Boran chased after him. The boy went into an alley. When Boran reached the alley he stopped when he realized it was a dead end. The boy was nowhere in sight, just three overflowing trashcans and a fourth can with the lid on and trash piled beside it.

  He began to leave the alley, then he took another look at the wall. The wall was at least thirteen or fourteen feet high. If the boy had been athletic, a monkey, or an action superstar he could’ve cleared the wall with no problem, but he wasn’t. He was a short kid who looked malnourished and ran like a person who smokes four packs of cigarettes a day.

  Boran looked over at the trashcan with the lid on it. He approached it and kicked it over. The lid came off and the boy crawled out. He tried to run, but Boran grabbed his arm.

  He tried to pull away. “Let me go!” His effort to escape Boran’s tight grip was pointless.

  “Give me the money!” Boran ordered with his other hand out.

  “I don’t know what you talkin’ about.”

  “The money you stole from those people. Don’t play stupid.”

  “Let me go!” The boy punched Boran downtown to get free.

  All of Boran’s breath escaped as he hunched over, grabbing his lower region. The boy tried to run away, but Boran grabbed him by the shirt, “You little bastard!”, and slung him into the trashcans, knocking them all over.

  The boy got up holding his back. “What the hell’s your problem, man?” he shouted.

  “Why would you take from these people, huh?”

  “Why not?
They don’t care about me, so I don’t care about them. I take what I can get.”

  “Didn’t your parents teach you not to steal?” Boran asked.

  “If I had parents they would teach me how to be a better thief. Look around! Out here you gotta take to survive. Nobody gives a damn. That douchebag in the castle lives comfortable while we starve.”

  The boy’s words caught Boran by surprise. “He provides for his people.”

  “Yeah, only people he knows. Go to the gate and see if you won’t get pushed away.”

  Boran was at a loss for words. He sympathized for the boy. “Listen, son, what is your name?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Because I can help.”

  “Whatever,” the boy said.

  “No, really, if you just give me a chance I can help you.”

  “You can’t help me unless you wanna break in and rob the castle. If not, kiss the crack of my dirty butt. I’m leavin’.” He pulled the four stolen 10-dirham coins from his pocket and dropped them on the ground. He walked away, but turned around before he left the alley. “But if you wanna do that, just ask around for Tonx. You’ll find me.”

  Boran stared at the money on the ground. Something about that boy made an impression.

  At the police station that Rufus visited, a jeep pulled up in front. A man in his late thirties stepped out of the jeep. He was in peak physical condition with perfect posture. He was six-foot-two inches tall with looks that would turn even a blind woman bashful. But he was no pretty boy. No. He had a presence that demanded respect.

  The officer that Rufus attacked greeted him. They shook hands. “Captain Zubu,” the officer said, “it’s nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise. Tell me what you know.”

  They went inside the police station.

  Zembok and Rufus sat at a table outside of a convenient restaurant eating fish with rice. “Have you learned anything from the book?” Rufus asked.

  “I’m gettin’ the moves down, but I still need a partner to practice with. I might as well go pull somebody off the street and practice with them, because you’re no help. What’s your problem anyway? You keep disappearing every chance you get. If I’m a burden to you let me know.”

  Rufus smiled. “Don’t be silly. I asked you to come along. I wouldn’t brush you off for no reason. The truth is, I’ve been looking for something.”

  “Something like what?” Zembok asked.

  “It’s nothing that you should worry about. What do you say we practice after breakfast? I’ll show you some tricks.”

  “Are you serious this time? You won’t leave me hangin’ again?”

  “I promise,” Rufus said.

  Zembok clapped his hands together. “Let’s do it!”

  In the forest, Jasmine woke up late to an empty house. “Jinn. Kwon,” she called out. She went to the front door and looked outside. Kwon and Jinn were climbing trees. She stepped outside. “How ya feel, Kwon?”

  Kwon looked down at her. “I feel great. I feel even better than before.”

  “I know,” she said with confidence. “Did you two eat anything?”

  “Yeah, we ate some fruit for breakfast. We didn’t want to wake you,” Jinn said.

  “All right,” she replied. “I’ll go get lunch started.” She went back inside.

  “Watch this,” Jinn said, jumping from one tree to a higher branch of another.

  Kwon looked up amazed. “Wow! How’d you do that?”

  “It’s easy. Just focus all of your strength to your thighs and calves, then jump.” Jinn jumped to another tree. “Try it.”

  Kwon focused on a tree branch higher than his own. He took a deep breath. “Okay.” Then he focused on his thighs and calves, bending his knees. Feeling a powerful boost from below, he leaped to the branch. He was about to jump higher and further than he’s ever jumped. Why didn’t he try this before? A simple concentration on his hamstrings and calf muscles, and not his feet, was all he needed to perform this jump.

  It was amazing how a human being could jump over four yards with no problem. It was also amazing how that same person could jump that far with no previous practice. But the biggest amazement was Kwon’s face when he realized he would come up about three yards short.

  Kwon fell to the ground and hit hard on his front. Jinn hopped down and rushed to him. “Are you okay?” Jinn asked.

  Kwon got up holding his chest and laughing. “It’s tougher than it looks.”

  Jinn sighed with relief. “Once you get used to it, you’ll be able to leap from tree to tree like it’s nothing.”

  “Let me try it again,” Kwon said, excited. He started climbing the closest tree.

  “Okay.” Jinn was impressed a bit, not from Kwon’s failed attempt, but that he fell over eighteen feet without even being hurt.

  In a vacant, trashy lot, Zembok swung Zion’s pole at Rufus, who blocked the attack with a broken tree branch. “Try a combo!” Rufus urged.

  Zembok used both ends to try and hit Rufus high and low. He blocked every swing, then swung a counter attack at Zembok’s abdomen. Zembok dodged. Rufus knocked the pole into the air and swept Zembok with his foot. He fell to the ground.

  Rufus caught the pole, handed it to Zembok, and pulled him up with it. “Good. You seemed to have remembered the basics very well. That’s something I didn’t expect in such a short time. But don’t forget, the pole is not the only weapon you have. You have to combine weapon skills with your physical abilities.”

  Zembok held his head down discouraged. “I don’t think I can do it. I’m not fast enough.”

  Rufus slapped the bottom of Zembok’s chin, making him look up at him, which surprised Zembok. “You can do it, Zembok, believe me. Nothing comes free in life. Everything is a challenge. Keep practicing, you’ll get better. Now let’s try some more combos. This time using your hands and feet.”

  Zembok nodded. “Right.”

  Captain Zubu tried to pick up Rufus’s trail. He asked everyone he approached if they had seen Rufus as he held up a photo of him. Over and over, he received head shakes.

  Then, after about an hour of traveling around town, the officer that Rufus attacked approached him. “I’ve just talked to a woman that says she saw him with an ugly, green-haired boy. They left town yesterday afternoon.”

  “Okay,” Captain Zubu said. “Thanks for your help, but I’ll take it from here. Has the van left yet?”

  “Yes, it left a few minutes ago.”

  “You did a good job contacting me. Did you look in the bags?”

  The officer replied, “No, sir.”

  “Good. You don’t want to get involved.”

  The officer and Captain Zubu parted ways.

  A bit later, Rufus and Zembok walked along the streets, just like normal, when Rufus mentioned something that surprised Zembok. “You remind me of my little brother. He was determined just like you.”

  “You never mentioned a brother. In fact, you never mentioned any family at all.”

  “My family’s long gone, and my brother is still missing.”

  “What happened to him?” Zembok asked.

  “Some people took him away.” Rufus’s eyes dropped, saddened. “I haven’t seen him since. I’ve spent years looking for him, but the more I try, the farther I get.”

  “Well, I hope you find him.”

  “Me too.”

  The blue van passed by them, followed by three jeeps full of police officers.

  Zembok frowned. “I swear I keep seeing that van everywhere we go.”

  “Forget about it.” Rufus only glanced at the van. “Let’s keep moving.”

  Back in the forest, Kwon continued branch leaping. This time, after several breathtaking fails, he managed to grab onto a branch and pull himself up.

  Jinn sat on a branch way above Kwon, watching. “You did it. You’re getting good at it already.”

  “I am, huh?” Kwon smiled, looking up at Jinn.

  Jasmine came outside with K
won’s backpack in one hand and a sealed envelope in the other. “Kwon, Jinn, come down here,” she called.

  Jinn jumped down from over thirty feet, landing on the ground with the grace of a cat. Kwon climbed down from his tree.

  Jasmine gave Kwon the backpack and the letter. “Here,” she said. “Now that you’re feeling better it’s time for you to go. You have a mission to fulfill.”

  “But I was starting to like Kwon,” Jinn griped.

  “No buts. Kwon, everything I told you was for a reason. Take that letter and give it to Goopa, but don’t read it or else your head will explode within seconds.”

  “Huh?” Kwon exclaimed. “My head will explode?”

  “Yeah, only if you read it. But Goopa must read it. If he doesn’t, the future of the entire world will be heading toward the worse change.”

  “How can Goopa reading a letter determine how the world changes?” Kwon asked. Then he gasped. “Is it a magical letter that tells the future?”

  “In a way, yes. But only you should give it to him, no one else.”

  “But why only me?”

  Jasmine laughed. “Will you stop asking questions and go? You have to make it to Mt. Embor as soon as possible. Besides, if you stay here any longer, Bohr might come looking for you. I don’t want to take that risk.”

  “But why would Bohr—”

  “I put some more food and lots of water in your bag,” she interrupted Kwon. “You’ll need it going through the desert. There’s also a note in there for you. Be sure to read it before you get to the desert.”

  “Why can’t I just go through the forest?” Kwon asked.

  “It’ll lead to the desert anyway. Jinn, I want you to take Kwon to the graveyard. That way is safer.” She gave Kwon a hug.

  A hug? “So you’re not erasing my memory?” he asked.

  She smiled and released him. “No, you’re fine.” She gave him a little push. “Now get the heck out of here. And when you find Goopa, listen to what he has to say.”

  Kwon nodded.

  “Good luck,” she said.

  She went back into the house. Jinn grumbled, “Follow me.” Jinn ran up the nearest tree and started leaping from tree to tree through the forest. Kwon put on his backpack and followed him on foot, jogging.

  Twenty minutes later, they reached a cliff with a trail leading down to the graveyard. Jinn jumped down from the tree as Kwon caught up with him panting.

  As Kwon caught his breath, he gazed at the graveyard. “Why are there so many tombstones?” Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of graves scattered far and wide, too many for Kwon to count. Many of the tombstones were destroyed. Some looked like they’d been dug up.

  “My mom told me that these are the graves of the last surviving trolls that lived here long ago.” Jinn replied.

  “Zion told me about them. I didn’t know there were so many of them.”

  “Yeah, there’s a lot. After you get past the graveyard there’s supposed to be a bunch of mountains. Somewhere out there you’ll cross over into the desert.”

  Kwon turned to Jinn. “Thanks for everything.” He extended his hand to shake. “And thank your mom for me, too.”

  Jinn smacked Kwon’s hand hard, making Kwon pull it back to shake off the sting. Then he smiled and said, “Don’t forget about us.”

  “I won’t,” Kwon replied with a smile of his own. “I’ll come back someday to visit.”

  “We’ll be here.”

  Kwon started making his way down the trail. He turned around and waved goodbye. As Jinn waved back, an uncomfortable feeling came over Kwon. Maybe it was the gloomy haze that hovered over the graveyard or maybe it was something else that made him feel this way. When he looked at Jinn, a deep intuition of danger lingered; as if he would never see his new friend again.

  As Kwon’s smile faded, Jinn made his way back through the forest. What could that feeling mean? Although he wanted to go back to tell Jinn and Jasmine what he was feeling, he realized that he would lose too much time. So he continued through the graveyard, hoping that they would be okay.

  Rufus and Zembok entered another church. This one had seen better days with the paint peeling off the walls, the wooden floors torn apart all through the building, and sunlight shining through giant holes in the roof. Despite its appearance, a few people sat in the wooden chairs, whispering prayers with their eyes closed and heads bowed.

  Zembok sat in one of the chairs. They put their stuff down. “You really do like holy places, don’t you?” Zembok asked.

  “I told you, it’s the safest place.”

  “What are you so afraid of?”

  Rufus shook his head. “I’m not afraid of anything. It’s just that I have a lot of enemies. A long time ago some people were after me. I hid in a church, but they found me anyway. They wouldn’t harm me while I was in a holy place, so they left and waited for me to come out, and I escaped under their noses.”

  “So, you think they’re still after you?”

  “Maybe so, maybe not.” Rufus’s voice echoed through the church, interrupting the people’s prayer time. He nodded as they glanced at him and continued praying. He sat beside Zembok and spoke as soft as he could. “I’ve made more enemies since then. You see, I used to lead a revolt against corrupt police officers. The police were extorting money from citizens and treating them like trash. So I took back what belonged to the citizens and in return, the police started shedding the blood of the people they were supposed to protect. So I helped the people stand up against them. Now they want me dead.”

  Zembok gave him an unconvinced half-smile. “You didn’t lead a revolt.”

  “Yes I did. Why do you always think I’m lying?”

  Zembok shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I just have a strange feeling that you’re hidin’ something from me.”

  Rufus let out a big sigh. “Okay, I’m a mass murderer. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  “That’s more convincing than you leadin’ a revolt.”

  Rufus rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Whatever. What about you? What’s on Mt. Embor that you seek?”

  Zembok’s expression turned dead serious. “Hopefully some answers. I need to find a friend of mine, he’s looking for answers too. I just want to find the man that killed my grandfather and take his life. But I have to find out who he is first. Maybe this Goopa guy knows something. That’s why I’m headin’ to Mt. Embor.”

  “You’re too young to want to take a person’s life. Their blood will be on your hands for as long as you live.”

  “I don’t care. I’m gonna find out who he is, then I’m gonna kill him. I’ll be outside practicing if you need me.” Zembok got up and left the church.

  At some point, Rufus joined him behind the church. They practiced, with Rufus using a long, sturdy stick as his weapon, until the sun began to set. At that time, Rufus decided to stop. “That was good. You’re getting better. I have to go now, though.” Rufus relaxed and dropped his stick on the ground.

  Zembok threw his hands up with pure disgust. “Here you go with this again. I thought you were gonna help me?”

  “We’ve been practicing for hours. I’m getting hungry, and I’m sure you don’t want to go to bed hungry. I’ll be back with something shortly.” Rufus began to walk away, but then he turned around and approached the stick. “Let me leave you with someone to help you.”

  Rufus blew black fog from his mouth onto the stick. The fog accumulated in one spot, lifting the stick up with it as it formed into an identical replica of himself.

  Zembok’s eyes grew wide with amazement. “How did you do that?” he asked.

  “It’s an ability I was born with. I call it my Black Fog technique. This is my Black Fog Replica.” Rufus waved his hand through the clone. It did nothing but wipe the fog away, only for it to return to its perfect form. “If you touch him, it won’t hurt. It’ll go right through him. But he thinks like me and moves like me, and this stick will still hurt you, so don’t be fooled. I’ll be b
ack shortly.”

  With Zembok’s attention on the real Rufus as he started walking away, he asked, “How can this thing think without a brain?”

  The duplicated Rufus smacked Zembok on the top of the head with the stick and said, “Didn’t I tell you not to be fooled?”

  Zembok rubbed his sore spot. He then continued practicing with the clone.

  Minutes later, Rufus found himself lying out of sight on the rooftop of a building across the street from yet another police station.

  The blue van stopped at its last pick-up. This time everyone got out. The driver, the passenger, four armed guards from the back of the van, and twelve officers from the three jeeps got out.

  They grabbed the bags and took them inside the station. The driver hopped out with the small black bag. He tried to hand the bag to the passenger, but it fell to the ground. The contents spilled as the bag hit the ground. Even from his distance, the tiny, whitish objects looked familiar enough to identify. A handful of diamonds aroused Rufus’s interest even further. The passenger scooped the diamonds into the bag and started yelling at the driver as they went into the station.

  That night Rufus and Zembok ate roasted pork outside of the church property, because Zembok complained about swine being unholy. For a kid that wasn’t religious, he sure didn’t shut up until they left the church. Other than that, Zembok talked about how crazy it was to practice his moves with a fog man. Soon afterward, the overindulgence of fresh pork sent both of them to bed.

  In the depth of night Zembok awoke to whispers. The church was empty, except for the entrance, where Rufus sat with his shoulder pressed against the wall, staring through the cracked door.

  Zembok crept toward him. Rufus’s lips were moving, but the words were indistinct; the closer he got the clearer they became.

  “I have to move. It’s time. It’s time. I have to move.” A light from the street bounced off his eyes. There was no life in them.

  “Time for what?” Zembok asked.

  Rufus ignored him.

  “What the heck is wrong with you, man?”

  “They want to get me, Zembok,” he whispered.

  “Who, the police?”

  “Raymond.” His blank eyes turned to Zembok. “Tan.” He continued peering out of the open door.

  “Who are they? Don’t start actin’ weird on me, man.”

  “Go back to sleep, Zembok. I’ll keep watch,” Rufus mumbled before nodding off.

  Zembok went to the nearest chair with a confused frown, never taking his eyes off Rufus. He turned the chair toward the entrance and sat there until he dozed off himself.

  When morning came, Zembok woke up to a lifeless church. He stood up, grabbed the pitiful amount of money he had in his bag, and then left the church.

  Captain Zubu arrived the previous night. When he came, the van was fine. But to his surprise, this morning, as he and some of the officers rushed outside, a message was on the side of the van. A dead pig lied beside the van. Its carcass was being circled by flies, and its blood served as paint to write ARE YOU FOR US in big letters over the blue paint job.

  “He’s going to make his move,” Zubu said with caution. “Increase security around the van. Secure the roads leading in and out of this town. Also, secure every corner of this town. We can’t let him get away. Get moving!”

  The officers scattered to their duties. Captain Zubu, on the other hand, went to conduct one last search for Rufus before the van left for the bank. He searched through half of the town with no luck. No one had seen him, not even the street vendors or the people at the restaurants. With an hour of searching drawing near and another restaurant worker shaking his head at Rufus’s picture, Zubu decided to give up. He wanted to return to the station before the van left at eleven. Before he left, he just happened to look around and see someone that slipped his mind.

  The restaurant he was at was a small building with old, wooden picnic tables outside of it and a tent over the picnic tables. He went and sat on the other side of the table where Zembok sucked down a plate piled with meat and vegetables.

  Zubu never expected Zembok to be so ugly. He just assumed the witness was exaggerating. He didn’t know what the heck Zembok was, but it didn’t matter at the moment. In order to catch Rufus he had to be his best friend. “I love the food here. It’s so delicious,” Zubu said, smiling. “How about you? Do you like it?”

  With a mouthful, Zembok answered, “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

  “The way you’re eating, I can tell. Hey, I was wondering if you could help me. I’m searching for a very dangerous thief that might be around here.”

  “You’re askin’ the wrong person. I wouldn’t know a thief if I saw one,” Zembok said.

  “Of course you wouldn’t, especially this man.” Captain Zubu reached across the table and placed the mug shot that he’s been showing everyone beside Zembok’s plate. “His name is Rittiku. We’ve been trying to catch him for many years, but he’s just too slick.”

  Zembok froze as his eyes locked onto the picture of Rufus. “We?” he asked, looking at Zubu.

  “Yes.” Zubu reached down in his button-up shirt, pulled out his badge hooked to a silver chain-link necklace, showed Zembok, and then let the badge fall on his chest. “I’m Captain Zubu. The police have been trying to track him. If you meet him he’ll probably talk about some corrupt cops after him, but he’s nothing but a thief who’s killed many people. We think he may be after a blue van full of money.”

  “A blue van?” Zembok said, surprised.

  “Yes, he may try to make a move soon.” Zembok’s eyes wandered back to the photo. Seeing this, Zubu’s expression turned serious. “Son, have you seen that man?”

  Zembok’s eyes stayed glued to the photograph. Hoping that he would reveal at least a snippet of information, Zubu stared at the troll as he stayed silent, just gazing at the mug shot for several seconds.

  Without looking up, Zembok slid the photo back to Zubu, “No,” and continued eating his food.

  Captain Zubu nodded with a slight look of disappointment. “Well, if you do, notify authorities right away, okay?”

  “Yeah,” Zembok said, still focused on his plate.

  Zubu got up from the table and walked away. Zembok watched him out of the corner of his eye. He looked up just in time to see Zubu cross the street further down the road and disappear in the crowd behind street venders selling stacks of grapefruits and bananas.

  He got up and ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Little did he know, Zubu had ducked down low once he escaped Zembok’s sight. He crept up behind the baskets where the women were selling the fruit, flashed his badge since they shooed him away, thinking he was a thief, and watched which direction Zembok went. Being a police captain didn’t matter once one of the women pulled a huge machete from between two of the baskets and chased him away from the fruit while she shouted and he repeatedly showed her his badge.

  When Zembok reached the church it was empty. He let out a long, displeasing sigh as he exited the building. He looked to his right, hoping to see Rufus making his way back to the church. Instead, some locals smoked cigarettes and chatted across the street from a shabby hair salon that was protected by a lady with a musket.

  He looked to his left. In the distance, the blue van turned a corner and went down a long stretch of dirt road leaving town. In front of the van was one jeep with two officers in it. Following the van were four jeeps with four officers each.

  Zembok shook his head and started running to follow the van. Of course, Zubu watched from far away, hiding in a crowd. He put his walkie-talkie up to his mouth, holding the talk button. “I need a ride, immediately.”

  On each side of the long stretch of dirt road were woods. The officers kept a close eye on their surroundings as the vehicles drove along the road. From the left side of the road, a stream of black fog flowed along the ground from the woods. It began mixing with the dirt particles, making it take the form of the dirt.r />
  Each vehicle rode two and a half to three car lengths apart. The first jeep passed over the dirt-disguised fog as it stretched to the other side of the road. Then the van passed over the dirty fog. It got carried along the wind current under the van as it spread down the road’s path. The fog gathered more and more dirt, mixing it into a thick cloud.

  Then, the beginning of the mass caught up with the end, under the van, in three seconds. Just as quick as it caught up to itself, it gathered and formed into a thick, solid, ten-foot-tall wall behind the van, blocking the entire road. The second jeep’s tires screeched, as the driver was caught off guard, and then slammed into the wall. The passenger’s forehead banged against the dashboard, knocking him unconscious. The driver’s head hit the top of the steering wheel, busting the skin open and stunning him.

  The other three jeeps came to a sudden halt, just escaping collision. The police in the lead jeep and the van kept moving, unaware of what had happened. Further down the road, waiting in the woods, Rufus blew more black fog from his mouth. He then readied his weapons. On each arm, two side-by-side katana blades slid out of his flesh as he glared at the approaching vehicles.

  One of the officers in the third jeep asked the two back seat officers from the second jeep about the status of the hurt officers. As they checked on the hurt officers, one of them confirmed that the crash was not fatal. The other two jeeps went around the wall to catch up with the van. But when they went around, the wall fell apart. The dirt from the wall rushed to the vehicles, punctured their back tires with bite-sized spikes made from the earth, fell lifeless to the ground, and caused the vehicles to skid off the side of the road. The officers got out of their vehicles, angry.

  The fresh black fog that Rufus released flowed from the woods and hid under the blue van as it passed, moving along with it. The fog expanded, surrounded, and then covered the van. Inside, the occupants looked confused since, through all of the windows, it looked like night had come in an instant. The driver stopped the van, looking around with concern. Some of the fog, on the other hand, kept going. It shifted into a duplicate of the blue van. So when the officers in the first jeep looked back, everything appeared as normal.

  Alone, the van and the people inside sat with a big cloud of black fog all around them. To make matters worse, the fog thickened to the point where they couldn’t see anything but blackness outside. The passenger pounded his fist on the wall behind his seat four times. The four guards in the back took defensive positions, aiming their rifles at the back doors, with two crouched on one knee and two standing behind them.

  Blades burst through the roof, stabbing through different spots while the guards dodged. They started shooting at the roof until the stabbing stopped. Everyone in the van became alert as things got quiet. The front passenger pulled his handgun from the holster on his hip and cocked it.

  Rufus bashed through the driver’s side window with his forearm and pulled the driver out. The black fog rushed into the front of the van. The passenger started shooting at the driver’s side with his side arm. Then his clip ran out, but before he could switch to his rifle, Rufus broke through his window and grabbed him by the neck. He took his thumb and pressed down on the passenger’s throat until he crushed it. A gurgling sound came from the passenger’s throat and out of his mouth as he died.

  The guards in the back stayed cautious with their guns pointed in all directions, trying to anticipate the next point of attack.

  Rufus stabbed through the right side of the van with vigorous thrusts, catching two of the guards in their torsos and legs using multiple attacks. From inside the van, it was hard to tell if he was on the ground or hanging onto the side of the van.

  That being said, as the two guards fell down, bleeding to death, Rufus stabbed through the roof, just as the guards on the left side stood up. He caught one of them in the shoulder. The other one shot at the roof. Then Rufus opened the back doors while a set of blades were still sticking through the roof, rushed in, and stabbed both of the guards in the chest. They fell over dead. The blades in the roof dissipated into black fog.

  The little velvet bag sat on top of one of the trash bags. He went over, picked it up, untied the string around it, and looked inside. The diamonds radiated a sparkle that made Rufus become hot and bothered. He was about to pour them into his palm when all of a sudden, stepping in with the fog, someone came in and slammed the door shut with vicious intent to do damage. Rufus turned around and lunged at the person with one arm, stopping the blades right before they reached his throat.

  “You dirty, lyin’ thief!” Zembok shouted, panting.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Confirming my suspicions all along. I knew you were hidin’ something from me. You wanted to rob this freakin’ van the whole time.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I figured it out not too long ago.”

  Rufus sighed, held his head down, and then shook it. He lowered his blades. “You shouldn’t be here, Zembok,” he whispered.

  “Well, I am here, and I can’t let you do this.”

  Rufus thrust forward and jabbed his blades through the back door, an inch away from Zembok’s head. The troll flinched but stood his ground. “Get the hell out of here, Zembok!” he roared. “This is none of your business.”

  Zembok looked around at the bodies, then he stared Rufus in the eyes and said without fear, “Are you gonna kill me, too? Well, are you, Rufus or Rittiku or whatever the hell your damn name is?”

  Rufus squinted. “Who told you that name?”

  “Some guy named Zubu.”

  Curiosity shot through Rufus. He hurried over to the trash bags, sliced one open, and wanted to stab himself in the heart after seeing what was inside. How could he have not seen it coming? He reached in and pulled out a handful of paper, but not the paper he wanted. Cut in perfect rectangles, with rubber bands wrapping them, were newspaper pieces. Every bag was full of newspaper. Rufus looked at Zembok with a concerned expression. “You have to get out while you can, Zembok.”

  “Huh?”

  Then, from outside, they heard a loud voice say, “This is the end of the line, Rittiku.” They both looked surprised. Standing behind the van, from a distance, Zubu held a bullhorn. He stepped out of the passenger side of a jeep, followed by the officers from the hind jeeps pursuing on foot. The first jeep pulled up on the front side of the van. Those officers got out with their firearms ready. “We know that you and the ugly boy are in there,” he said with the voice amplifier.

  “I’m not ugly, I just have a unique face,” Zembok said, heartbroken.

  “Did they follow you, Zembok?”

  “Nah, I went through the woods. Buuuut it’s not hard to find a black cloud on a dirt road in the daytime.”

  “C’mon out, now, Rittiku! Don’t make me fire a warning shot. Three … two … one.”

  “Get down!” Rufus ordered Zembok.

  Zubu grabbed an assault rifle from his jeep and shot fifteen rounds at the van. The officers on the front side scattered to each side of the road as bullets ripped through the van. Then Zubu tossed the empty rifle in the jeep, pulled out his side arm, and shot eight more times at the van. He spoke into the amplifier. “I hope you’re not dead, Rittiku. That would be anti-climactic. Now, come out before we really light that van up! Five …”

  Zembok lifted his face from the van floor, shaken up. “What the heck is his problem?”

  Rufus remained calm. “Listen to me, Zembok. I need you to trust me right now.”

  “… Four …”

  “What the … what’s … I don’t know what to …”

  “Zembok, just calm down, okay. Calm down! I didn’t lie to you. Please, trust me.”

  “… Three …”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “No, I don’t trust you. I don’t … I don’t know what to …” Zembok’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

  “Dammit, Zembok, you haven’t trusted me since I met you. I’m asking
you to trust me. Yes, I’m a horrible thief, but will you please trust me or do you want to die here?”

  Zembok hesitated to answer. He stared at Rufus with vulnerability in his eyes.

  Outside, Zubu said, “… Two …” over the bullhorn. He signaled the officers to ready their guns. “… One. Fire! Wait!” He held his hand up, still focused on the van.

  The black fog started creeping away from the van in all directions. Everyone stayed cautious with their guns drawn on the van. As the fog approached all of the police, they kept a wary eye, just in case Rufus tried a surprise attack.

  When the fog moved through the woods and down the street, Rufus and Zembok stood in the back of the van with the doors open and their hands in the air. They stepped out of the van. A couple of the officers rushed them and pushed them to the ground, pointing their guns at their backs. The officers put handcuffs on both of them.

  Zubu approached Rufus. “You thought you could get away from me, huh?” When he got close, he stopped and examined them well. Zubu shook his head and sighed. “I can’t believe he would stoop so low.” As he turned to walk away, he said with disappointment, “Let them go … and tell the patrols to be on high alert for Rittiku and the green-haired boy.”

  The officers gave the captain questionable stares, hesitating to free the two as Zubu made his way to his jeep. Then they understood what made Zubu change his mind. Black fog lifted from Rufus and Zembok’s skin and clothes, revealing two of the dead guards. Zembok’s decoy had more fog since that guard’s upper body had to take the shape of his enormous amount of hair. The bodies went limp as the fog seeped out of their noses, mouths, and ears. The officers stood frozen, glancing at each other for answers.

  Zubu got into his jeep and said, “Any officer who’s not hurt come with me, and someone inform the station to get the prisoner transport van ready.”

  In the woods, the black fog strolled along. Stopping to catch his breath, Zembok panted with his hands on his knees. With the fog being used as a cloak, it left him behind as it continued through the woods. He looked back to see if anyone was following him. No one was on his tail, so he redirected himself and ran toward town through the woods.

  Just like Zembok, Rufus emerged from the black fog, except he ran through the woods on the opposite side of the road. He had already made his way toward town.

  When he came out of the woods he ran and dove behind a stack of wood. Two police jeeps rode past, with the police keeping a keen lookout for Rufus and Zembok. They were everywhere an eye could turn, more now than Rufus ever expected.

  Two children tossed a ball to each other in the distance. Two officers stood across the street exchanging funny childhood stories. Another stood down the street on a cell phone, eating a chocolate candy bar while arguing with the person on the other end. Each jeep had two officers. They circled around the block several times, stopping as they passed by each other for idle chit-chat.

  There wasn’t much more he could make out by listening. He could only confirm the voices of the officers he analyzed before diving behind the wood stack. It’s a good thing no one spotted him.

  Rufus listened for the jeeps to continue on their routes. As soon as they left he’d peek to find a good path to sneak by the other officers before the jeeps could circle around. But one problem kept him from doing so. He heard footsteps approaching from behind. He glanced over both shoulders, but couldn’t see anything. It could just be a citizen, but even if so it would still blow his cover.

  Maybe running was the only option, since the police jeeps had stopped right in front of the stack of wood and any alarming activity would draw attention, along with bullets, to his location. So a quick sneak attack wouldn’t do any good, especially if the person was a citizen.

  To make matters worse, Rufus heard a slurred voice right above those footsteps; a loud, swearing voice. His cover was as good as blown. Not only that, the drunk person, who sounded like an old man, was shouting insults at the police while he kept moving toward the wood stack. One of the jeep doors opened, a pair of feet tapped the ground, the door shut, and the officer approached the drunken man. But the drunk man kept coming toward Rufus, making him rethink his plan, aggravated. Attacking a citizen might not be so bad after all. He might’ve been too drunk to feel it, anyway.

  A baseball rolled a few feet away from Rufus’s face. He heard light footsteps rushing toward it. A kid might not be a problem in situations like these. An index finger over the lips is a universal signal to keep quiet, and most times kids do.

  Rufus got ready as the little footsteps reached the ball. The universal signal plus a playful smile would let the kid know that Rufus didn’t want to be found. Heck, maybe the kid would help him out and distract anyone coming his way.

  It’s funny how a kid’s feet could be pretty big for such a young age. It’s also weird, though. Whether they’ve been playing in worn-out sandals or not, no kid’s kickers should look like their toe nails are trying to fold under their feet and skin look like it’s shedding a dead layer. Then Rufus looked up just in time to see a skinny police officer about to pull his pistol on him. What kind of police officer wears sandals on duty?

  “Don’t move!” the officer ordered with a surprised look on his face. Rufus hopped up and punched him below the sternum. His breath escaped him as he hunched over.

  All attention turned to Rufus. He ran as fast as he could down the street across from him. The drunk man rooted for him as all of the police chased after him. With children around, the officers refrained from opening fire.

  Officers met Rufus around every corner. He climbed over walls and ran through alleys, but everywhere he went they were there to cut him off. As he reached an area wide enough to not be cut off so easy, he dove behind a rusty, broken-down pick-up truck after a bullet zipped past his left ear.

  Rufus hid behind the front tire. There was nowhere to go. The police had surrounded the other side of the truck, and he was too tired to continue running through town. But he didn’t have a choice, so he took off running and escaped a bullet to the calf by a hair as he turned down another alley.

  After all of the pursuing officers went after him and the dust cleared, there was complete silence in the area. Rufus peeked through the glassless windows to make sure no one was there. Many years of increasing the speed of producing his black fog replicas without being detected were paying off today.

  After twelve minutes of sneaking his way to the church, Rufus climbed through a side window. Zembok sat on his knees panting. Rufus approached him. “Are you alright?” he asked.

  Zembok nodded. “The police are everywhere, but I made sure they didn’t see me.” While raising his eyebrows he said, “Thank you for makin’ me a fugitive.”

  “Shut up. I figured those decoys wouldn’t work.”

  “What the heck is really goin’ on? Who was that Zubu guy and which is your real name, Rittiku or Rufus?”

  Rufus sat down in one of the wooden chairs. Zembok stood up. He let out an apologetic sigh as he looked at Zembok. “Rittiku is my real name, and a long time ago Zubu was one of my best friends. Together we started the movement that led to a revolutionary stand against corrupt cops. But as you can see, you can’t be friends forever. Our slogan was ‘aRe yoU For US or against us?’ Rufus is the only name that keeps the movement alive.”

  “Why is that?”

  Dozens of tires screeched outside, followed by dozens of vehicle doors slamming.

  “We have to get out of here,” Zembok said, anxious.

  Rufus remained calm, even relieved. “I’m sorry, Zembok. I shouldn’t have lied to you about who I was. I never should’ve gotten you involved. Will you do me one favor?” He reached in his pocket and pulled out the little black bag. He put it in Zembok’s hand. “Will you help the movement live?”

  Zembok looked inside the bag and then frowned. “I can’t take these.”

  Then they heard the bullhorn amplify that familiar voice. “Give up, Rittiku. We have the church su
rrounded.”

  Still calm, Rufus said to Zembok, “Yes you can. Give them to someone who needs them.”

  Zembok shook his head. “No, these are worth a lot of money. I’ll go to jail forever if I get caught with them.”

  “You’ll be fine … as long as you don’t ever come back this way again. Besides, I’m the one they want.”

  Zubu said, “We’ve been watching this church, so we know you and the green-haired FREAK are in there. If you don’t come out we’re coming in.”

  Zembok threw his arms out with an offended ‘why me?’ look on his face. “Man, I hate that guy.”

  Rufus cracked a half smile. “Do you really want him to have the diamonds?”

  “Not anymore. C’mon, Rittiku, let’s ditch this guy.”

  “My journey ends here, Zembok. Yours, on the other hand, is just beginning. Now go. Get out of here fugitive! I don’t want your bad influence to rub off on me. Go!”

  Zembok hesitated to leave. He stared at Rufus like he wanted to say something heartfelt. He tried to avoid bandits on his journey but met the one that made him feel comfortable, even though he couldn’t trust him with all of his heart. He grabbed his bag and made his way to a window on the rear wall behind the preacher’s podium. Three officers were behind the building. He turned to Rufus. “Eh, you think you can help me with one of those replicas?”

  “Actually, I’m too low on energy. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a very long time. But I can do something even better for you.” Rufus got up, picked up his chair, ran to the side window that he entered, and slung the chair through the glass. The shattering got everyone’s attention. Two of the rear officers went to the side as Rufus shouted, “Come get me, you goat molesters!”

  Zembok took the opportunity to open and climb out of the window he was at. The lone officer pulled his gun on Zembok and yelled, “Freeze,” as Zembok stumbled to the ground. As he approached the troll he looked up in time to see a wooden chair fly from the window at his face. The officer tried to block, but still got clocked in the forehead, sending him falling to the ground.

  Zembok looked up and saw Rufus smiling and signaling him to keep going. Zembok rose up and ran as fast as he could away from the church. The other two officers saw him. They didn’t hesitate to flex their trigger fingers. The bullets whizzed past his feet and legs as he disappeared over a hill shouting, “I don’t wanna die.”

  Rufus heard a loud bang. The front door swung open. He turned away from the window, placing his hands behind his head as over twenty police officers rushed into the church with their guns drawn. He took slow steps toward them.

  With guns pointed at Rufus’s head from all directions, they surrounded him before forcing him to his knees. He said to them, “Don’t you know that swine is not allowed in holy places?”

  Zubu approached him with a combat knife. He cut Rufus’s right shoulder and then smeared the blood with his finger and examined it. “Just making sure,” he said to Rufus, who maintained a faraway stare. “You’ve been a pain in the neck for too many years, Rittiku. I’m tired of chasing you.”

  “I was still having fun,” Rufus said.

  “Oh, really?” Zubu said, irritated. “Does fun involve murdering dozens of men for no reason?”

  “They were dirty police.”

  “Dirty?” Zubu had to control his breathing before it went wild. “They weren’t dirty cops, they were good men. They were my friends.”

  “Let’s see how long you stay loyal to them … or will you turn on them as soon as the enemies get stronger?”

  “You still don’t get it, do you? I joined the police to fight the enemy from inside. I’ve earned my rank. Those crooked law enforcers have been dealt with. They’re paying for their crimes. I’ve made sure of that. There are no more crooked cops under my watch.”

  “That’s what you think. What happened to the movement? Why did you give up the fight?”

  “I never gave up.” Captain Zubu started walking slow laps around Rufus. “You were once a hero, Rittiku. You took from the greedy and gave back to the citizens. But after there were no more crooked police left you kept taking. You took from honest, hard-working officers. Not only that, half of the money you took belonged to the citizens. You became selfish. You didn’t even give back to the people who needed it. You robbed for your own needs.” He leaned over and said in Rufus’s ear. “You killed the movement, not me.” He continued circling Rufus.

  “How did you know I was after the van?”

  “After the explosion a few months ago, I had a feeling you were still alive. So I planned a fake delivery to a real bank. Our friend who tipped you off about the delivery became an informant of mine while you were hiding out. I knew you couldn’t resist. Everything you saw was what I wanted you to see, even the guards dropping the diamonds on the ground. I knew you’d be watching.”

  “Of course. You always knew me better than Obba or Nobu did,” Rufus said.

  “Look around, Rittiku.” Rufus continued his distant stare, not even moving his eyes. “These men in this room are good people. Those guards in the van had families at home. They were just following orders. Now I have to explain to their wives and children that a deranged thief murdered their husbands and fathers.”

  “They might’ve died when you shot up the van?”

  “No,” Zubu exclaimed. “They had bracelets on their wrists that monitored their pulse. After you killed them their bracelets let off a silent alarm, so I know they were all dead before I shot at the van. And maybe your decoys would’ve fooled me if you’d known that information.” Zubu stopped in front of Rufus. “You’re a murderer, Rittiku. Those men did not deserve to die … and you don’t even care enough to look at their colleagues’ faces.” Still, Rufus showed no response. “Now, even though there was no money in the van, the diamonds were very real. Where are they?”

  “They’re long gone … far away from here.”

  Zubu gave Rufus a curious look. “The green-haired boy, does he have them?”

  Rufus smirked, followed by a short laugh. “I’m just playing with you.”

  Zubu massaged his eyes with his index finger and thumb and then said, irritated, “This is not a time to play. Where are the diamonds?”

  “They’re here. Don’t you feel them?”

  Zubu looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “You should feel them right now. You can’t see them, but you should feel them.”

  Zubu started looking around on the floor. Then the others started searching the floor with their eyes. Zubu tried to pull up the floorboard under himself with the knife. The end lifted about an inch, but the board didn’t budge. “Are they … under here?” he said with a grunt.

  Rufus started laughing some more. “You should’ve felt them by now.”

  Rufus’s laughter irritated Zubu even more. He shouted, “Where are the diamonds, Rittiku?”

  He replied, “I shoved them up your ass with my black fog.” Zubu got quiet while Rufus continued to laugh. He stared a hole through Rufus. “I’m good at doing magic tricks, too.”

  “Take him away,” Zubu ordered.

  An officer cuffed Rufus’s wrists behind his back. With guns still drawn on him, the officers escorted him out of the church. Rufus squinted as the sun hit his eyes. Citizens stood in crowds behind dozens of police vehicles and officers standing guard, watching Rufus get taken to a van with double doors in the back and fenced-in bars as windows.

  Now in police custody, he was no longer Rufus, the disguised thief. As he entered the back of the van and sat with two officers sitting across from him with shotguns, he was once again, Rittiku Nowahi, a man looking at some serious prison time.

  Zubu was about to close the double doors, but stopped when Rittiku called his name. “Hey, Zubu … your men will turn crooked,” he said with a serious look on his face. “Now, I’ll do six years for each of the people in the van, but after that, I’m escaping. So be ready for the chase again.”
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br />   Captain Zubu shook his head. “You’ll have to play your sick game with someone else, Rittiku. After chasing you for six years I might end up retiring soon.” He shut the doors and then got in the passenger seat up front.

  A young officer got behind the steering wheel with worry on his face. He looked over at Zubu and whispered, “Do you think he can really escape from prison?”

  “Are you kidding? He could kill us all and escape right now. The fact that he hasn’t tried means he still has a little bit of a conscience left. Let’s move.”

  The van pulled off. Rittiku had been around to so many places and robbed so many police in different African nations. Captain Zubu earned respect from many higher and lower ranked policemen. Sitting in a rare position as both an internal investigator for most of West and South Africa’s police forces and a captain of Nigeria’s police force, he’s cleaned up more messes than he signed up for. Considered to be the only person entrusted with the capturing of the infamous thief, it was now time to leave the southeast and return to Nigeria, where it all started, and build his case against Rittiku.

  About an hour or so after escaping the church, Zembok arrived at another town. This one had a steady flow, not too busy, but still having crowds of people. Goats roamed around like pets near their owners.

  A woman and her three boys sat on the side of the paved road. The mother rocked back and forth weeping with her youngest of about four years old resting his head in her lap. He struggled to breathe, too weak to move. The mother begged people that passed by for money for medicine, only to have her frail voice ignored.

  Zembok took five diamonds out and put them in his pocket. As he walked by her he placed the velvet bag in her lap next to her son’s head. She nodded and thanked him a few times with a huge smile on her face. Then she looked inside of the bag. It was a surprise her eyes didn’t pop out of their sockets. She looked for Zembok, but he was gone. She raised her hands in the air, lifted her head and eyes to the sky, and shouted, “Thank you, God,” over and over again as loud as a morning rooster. Her other two sons thought she had lost her mind as her tears were no longer filled with pain.

 

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