IA_B.O.S.S.

by John Darryl Winston

  As he crossed the street he could just barely hear music coming from a loft next to the library, old music and he thought of Love Child, Meri’s favorite song, how he had tricked and trapped Roffio and two of his thugs weeks before, playing Love Child on Meri’s phone. Love Child … Meri … Roffio … Incubus Apostles. He began to heat up.

  A few blocks further, Naz heard a shrill scream up ahead and to his right. It seemed to come from the side of an apartment building, and he thought about Meri, about the night they stayed out too late and darkness had surrounded them, and they encountered the two men and the lady in red. There it is again, a little girl, Meri. Was it his imagination?

  He turned down the walkway to the side of the apartment building oblivious to the fact that the building was abandoned, though not in the condemned shape of his first home. He heard it again, clearly not Meri’s voice, but made to sound like a little girl. He turned to walk away and heard Meri’s voice again, but this time somewhere in his imagination—do something, and he stopped. He took one more step away and then—why don’t you help her? He remembered what Meri had said that day as if it was yesterday, and he turned around and forged ahead to the side of the building. He remembered what his mother would say to herself when Bearn would come home and had clearly been drinking. Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, “I will fear no evil.”

  “Stop!” a man said, stepping out of the shadows.

  And then there was laughter, but not a little girl’s laughter, a woman. Naz could barely see the figure of a man standing before him, ominous, pointing something at him, shiny in the moonlight, probably black. Naz couldn’t quite make it out in the darkness, but he knew in an instant, it was a gun. This is what he wanted. He put his hands out at his sides and welcomed it.

  “That’s far enough,” said the man. “Now empty your pockets … all of ’em.”

  I’m being robbed? Naz finally heard the woman sitting on a stoop on the side of the building next to the man. She screamed like a little girl again and then started laughing, taunting Naz.

  “No,” said Naz.

  “What?” asked the man, incredulous. “I’m warning you … you little—”

  “No,” Naz interrupted sternly. “M3,” he muttered as he closed his eyes and imagined the gun in his own hand. He grimaced as he felt a heavy blow followed by a sharp pain dominate the thumb and index finger of his right hand as he mentally willed the gun from his assailant’s hand to his own. He opened his eyes as he heard the sound of dense metal clanking on the cement just beneath him.

  “H-How’d you do that?” stammered the man. The woman stopped laughing.

  Naz looked up slowly, staring blankly at the bewildered man in front of him. Through the pain in his right hand, Naz felt a wetness, a dripping, and he was vaguely aware that the gun had struck his hand, the hard metal opening his skin, the blood oozing out. The sting and searing pain of the gash pleased Naz. He deserved it, and it fed something inside of him. He moved his hand to his mouth to taste the metallic saltiness of his own plasma, never taking his eyes off the man and woman in front of him.

  “For thou art with me,” Naz recited, demented.

  The man ran away, down the alley with the woman following.

  Naz trudged on as pre-dawn took over the night. He hadn’t talked to anyone. He wouldn’t call anyone. The hospital would inform Miss Tracey, who would in turn inform all concerned parties. She would also be responsible for taking care of the funeral arrangements.

  Naz’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he cursed it. As he wrestled it from his pocket he noticed the text number was blocked, something that had happened only once before. The text read:

  AVENGE YOUR QUEEN!

  His anger began to outweigh his guilt, and his blood simmered.

  “Yes … one last thing to do,” he said, his voice low and cold.

  He smashed the phone to the pavement, having no concern for it or its origin—no … two things … Meri’s last request.

  He would not go to school. He couldn’t face the students. They would pity him and remind him of his plight. As Soul had said, news traveled. He had to make preparations in his mind.

  He pulled the key to his mother’s diary from his pocket. The thin leather rope Meri had bought for him at the festival still threaded it. It made him think of International Academy that day, their ride on the Helix, the festival, Meri. All thoughts led back to Meri—Meri, which caused his anger to completely overtake his guilt and his blood boil. He unthreaded the thin rope and fastened it around his neck. It was the only part of her he had left on him.

  He looked at the key in his open hand, closed his eyes, and imagined it spinning, suspended just above his palm. He remembered Dr. Gwen saying his father’s only variable was belief, and he believed, and something in his mind flexed. He could see the key spinning above his palm in his mind’s eye, and he knew it would be the same when he opened his eyes. He opened his eyes, looked down at his hand, and saw it: the key hovering just over his hand spinning and twirling, slow and controlled just as he had imagined. He flexed again, stopped the key in mid-air and then made it spin again in the opposite direction. It was easy, and he knew, he was different somehow: in his mind, invincible.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  LOOSE ENDS

  When Naz arrived at Lincoln for the championship game, Fears was already lecturing the team in the War Room. Fears handed Naz his uniform and gave his condolences. Soul hugged Naz, expressing genuine concern, and Harvis said a prayer. Naz showed no emotion. When Ham looked to approach, Naz speared him with a glare, his eyes seeming to narrow infinitesimally. Ham turned away, looking anywhere but in the eyes of his erstwhile friend. Ham had been covering up the tattoo on his arm around his teammates since he had first found out what the letters IA meant, but it was too late. The image was burned in Naz’s mind. But IA no longer stood for Incubus Apostle, but something altogether different for him now—Invincible Assassin.

  For starters, Naz resolved he would have Meri’s forty points, and Ham would have none. During the game, every shot Ham launched Naz slightly redirected with his mind, resulting in miss after miss. By halftime, the game was tied. Naz had twenty-eight points and Ham was scoreless. In the War Room, Naz directed Soul to be ready and that in the fourth quarter, he would steal the ball and pass it forward to him for his coveted dunk. Soul wasn’t sure he could jump high enough, but Naz took him by the shoulders and assured him if he believed, he would have his dunk that very day.

  In the second half it was more of same as Harvis stopped passing the ball to Ham altogether. Naz finished the game with forty points, Soul would get his dunk and Ham would finish frustrated with nothing, not even attempting a shot in the fourth quarter. Fears and the Railsplitters would win the game, completing their goal of championship and undefeated season. But Naz’s evening was just about to begin—one down. Harvis would have the last words in the huddle of the War Room.

  Our season has ended in a championship for the undefeated

  But this feat is not exclusive and will one day be repeated

  This bitter Sweet November we will always remember

  No Babyfaces, but all grown up and Union bound next September

  Soul reflections see no ejections only rebounds and rejections

  No Harvest at all for International Academy next fall

  For the present course is the General’s direction

  A blind search for brotherhood will always be revealed

  As a scoreless pursuit and a scar that cannot be concealed

  Our brother has realized his deepest fear

  But he must also know his brothers will always be near

  Maybe it’s time he accepted his given name

  For nothing endures so much as vision and change

  The warrior’s path turns the hourglass of time

  Over the pain of this too shall pass in all of our minds

  The team clapped for Harvis, but the mood was somber.


  “The party’s at my house, gentlemen,” bellowed Fears as he ducked into his office.

  Soul immediately grabbed Naz and hugged him, his eyes red and swollen. He had been crying all day since he first heard the news about Meri. “I’m sorry, Tin Man.”

  Harvis joined them. “Naz, what are you gonna do?”

  Naz shrugged as he continued to watch Ham dress on the other side of the locker room.

  “Well, let us know, man,” continued Harvis as he shook Naz’s hand.

  Naz nodded, continuing to study his prey.

  Fears exited his office and joined the trio. He gave Naz a bear hug. “Andersen, if there’s anything you need … anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Naz nodded again, his focus never changing.

  It was Ham’s turn to take a rain check on the team celebration. “Not gonna be able to make it, Coach, but thanks for everything,” yelled Ham from across the locker room.

  Naz finished getting dressed as Ham did, and when Ham left the locker room, Naz followed with Fears looking on. Ham had other plans and Naz would be in covert pursuit. Naz had made up his mind he would follow Ham until he led him to one or all of the boys that bared the mark of the gang. He would take them, all at once, or hunt them down one-by-one. There would be a reckoning.

  He followed Ham like a relentless shadow, and it wasn’t long before he realized he himself was being followed, and he was pretty sure who it was that was following him, but he didn’t care. He would brook no interference or lack of focus; his concentration was absolute.

  Ham led Naz to an abandoned structure, a church house with stained glass windows, not much bigger than the other houses of the Exclave, but in much better shape than the abandoned home Naz had pillaged just days before. He watched from afar as Ham entered what Naz assumed to be the gang’s lair—a church? What strange irony. When Ham was inside, Naz circled to the back of the building and scaled a drainpipe that led him to a gutter, which allowed him to pull himself up on the roof. As he quietly scrambled he found, as anticipated, small holes he could exploit when the time would come. He found, toward the middle of the building, one hole he was able to look down into—perfect. The church house was just an empty space with a few benches scattered about.

  Naz looked on as Ham talked to the blonde-haired boy with glasses—the one who booby-trapped the screen door. It was all he could do to contain his anger. He could see them, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying—if I could only read lips. Then he remembered—I can do better than that. He closed his eyes and focused on Ham and all he knew about him, and he knew Ham and the blonde would be leaving the church house soon, but would come back later that evening with the others.

  “A party in my honor, and I wasn’t invited … how rude,” Naz amused himself.

  Naz would meet them there. He was patient; he waited for Ham and the other boy to leave, then went to work preparing for his return. By dint of much elbow grease and his mind, Naz tore a bigger hole in the roof shingles to accommodate his entrance; he had unfinished business.

  Naz needed to tie up one loose end; he needed to say goodbye to Mr. Tesla. He owed him at least that. On his walk to MeeChi’s, Naz looked up. The clouds threatened to invade the calming blue skies, but for now the sun shone through the horizon bravely. Naz was troubled. It was evident in the web of premature lines that spread from the corners of his dark brown eyes. At MeeChi’s few words were spoken. Naz was ravenous; he scarfed down whatever Mr. Tesla put on the plate in front of him.

  “I don’t suppose I can talk you out of this,” said Mr. Tesla.

  “Was that your wife?” asked Naz as he stared blankly at the picture in the center of the table in front of him.

  “Yes, she and my unborn son were taken from me … another act of senseless violence. So you see, I understand your pain.”

  “Then you also understand why I have to do this. Somebody’s got to do something … for Meri and Mrs. Tesla … for Artie. I just came to say, thank you.”

  “Well, is there anything else I can do?

  Naz looked down at his clothes. They were worn and dirty; he hadn’t changed them in days. “Can you make me invisible?”

  Mr. Tesla pondered for a moment, stood, and said, “Maybe.” Then he turned and left Naz alone in the room.

  Moments later Naz donned a black thermal shirt, black cargo pants, and black boots under a black, hooded, mid-length hunting jacket, which felt appropriate for his anticipated task. Only, he would be no genteel hunter; he would terminate with extreme prejudice. “Not bad,” Naz said to himself as he examined his appearance. “Thank you.” The tendrils of his hair stuck out more than normal for some reason.

  “I don’t have the words,” said Mr. Tesla as he embraced Naz.

  Naz looked at Tone on his perch next to the door intently.

  “Naz is the Bat Man, Naz is the Bat Man,” said Tone.

  Let’s go, Robin. He put his forearm out and the African Grey lighted on it. Tone shuffled up to Naz’s shoulder as Naz walked out the door.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  B.O.S.S.

  When Naz walked out of MeeChi’s, the clouds had closed ranks across the sky and the day had turned to a dark, ominous, cold night. An oak crackled overhead, its branches rasping together in the bracing breeze. Naz gave himself over to his senses, governing less with his mind. He had become a destroying angel. He could not reign in his anger; he would not even try. Stay focused, he derided himself.

  As he approached the church house, Naz made a clicking sound with his mouth causing Tone to fly up ahead and circle above the house. He was still being followed, and it began to annoy him.

  “Soul … Harvis,” Naz called blandly.

  “H-How’d you know we were following you,” said Soul as he and Harvis stepped out of the shadows behind Naz.

  “Because we’re family. We look out for each other, right?” Naz turned to face them.

  “Right,” Soul said. “What’s the plan?”

  “Plan?” Naz asked.

  “What are we gonna do?” asked Soul.

  “We?” Naz asked, again.

  “We heard what you did to Roffio’s gang, but we saw at least five or six of them go in there … and they probably have guns,” said Soul, pulling out the gun Naz had taken from Roffio and given to Fears. “And Coach and the Calvary ain’t comin’ this time. We’re here to help.”

  Harvis nodded.

  Naz made a clicking sound with his mouth again, and Tone appeared from nowhere through the darkness, swooping down and landing on Naz’s forearm. Soul ducked down, startled.

  “That thing gives me the creeps,” said Soul.

  “It’s a good thing you took the bullets out,” said Naz to Harvis.

  “You took the bullets out?” Soul asked Harvis.

  Harvis nodded sheepishly.

  “Now what?” asked Soul.

  “Now, you go home,” said Naz.

  “We’re not goin’ anywhere,” said Harvis. “Five … or six to three, I like those odds, especially with Dill and Denali in there.”

  Naz looked at Tone intently. Tone bobbed his head up and down seven times.

  “It’s seven to one …and I go in alone, or not at all. I’ll just hunt them down one-by-one some other time if I have to,” said Naz.

  “We’ll only help if you need us,” Harvis agreed.

  “I’m not the one that’s gonna need help,” promised Naz.

  Naz knew this would be his best chance, and he could trust Harvis to do what he said he would do. “Fine then,” Naz conceded. After a few moments of contemplation he looked at Soul, then Harvis. “Harvis, stand outside the front door and, Soul, you take the back door just in case. When the fire alarm goes off, they may try to leave. Nobody gets out. It’s just a decoy. Got it?” Naz made a choppy whistle sound, and Tone flew up again into the darkness.

  They both nodded.

  “And don’t worry about the guns; I’ll take care of those,” he added.

&nbs
p; “Really?” asked Soul.

  “Soul, trust him,” assured Harvis.

  “What about Ham?” asked Soul.

  “Casualty of war,” said Naz. “He threw his lot in with the wrong group; his fate will be the same as theirs.”

  “Tin Man.” Soul stopped Naz as he turned to walk away. “Good luck … and again, I’m sorry.”

  “Godspeed, Naz,” said Harvis.

  “Thank you.” Naz pulled his hood over his head and disappeared into the darkness.

  Naz scaled the church house as before and scrambled to the spot he had prepared to enter. He looked down to find there were many candles now lit, causing the reddish, golden walls to appear to move with the flicker of the flames. Naz looked on as the gang reveled in merriment. The events of the past days flooded back into his awareness. With a click of his mouth Naz summoned Tone to his forearm once more. He gave a choppy whistle and the African Grey swooped down through the large hole.

  Naz closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of focus then exhaled slowly. There would be no chink in his armor. There it was: the sound of a smoke alarm that only Tone could imitate so well.

  “I love you, Meri,” said Naz as he went through the hole in the roof.

  There was mayhem and commotion below as Naz grabbed onto a wooden beam in the rafters. It was a ruse and the apostles fell for it. He swung around the beam once to get his bearing then quickly descended to a three-point landing on both feet and one hand. Dill and Denali retreated to the front door where they were stopped by Harvis. Four other boys were strewn about. There was no sign of Roffio. Naz immediately saw Ham and glowered at him resentfully. Red looked surprised and slightly awed.