Hathwaite thought he saw a weakness in Jeff’s guard and attacked from low position with a series of quick feints followed by a waist-level thrust. The feints were tapped aside, but the thrust was parried with a flick of Jeff’s wrist that nearly ripped Hathwaite’s saber from his hand. Stung by the near disaster of his attack, Hathwaite muttered a curse and initiated a frenzy of cuts and thrusts.
Forced to retreat, Jeff’s heel caught on a tuft of grass and he stumbled backward off balance. Hathwaite lunged in with a low thrust that sliced open Jeff’s sweat pants from knee to ankle but missed skin. The crowd let out an excited shout.
“Say good-by to your ass, peon!”
To avoid falling, Jeff put a hand down and pivoted to the side. As he did so, Hathwaite thrust with all his strength. With a whispering sound, his blade penetrated Jeff’s tee shirt and nicked the skin along his ribs.
“Finish him off, Justin!”
Carl spun around looking for the voice. George grabbed his arm. “No! Let it go. This isn’t your fight.”
Regaining his feet, Jeff beat back another attack. God damn it, he thought, that asshole tried to kill me! His mind did a stutter-step and every sense seemed to expand by a factor of two.
Lips pulled back in a grimace of fatigue and desperation, Hathwaite continued to press hard. As if regulated by a metronome, sabers flickered in four-four time interspersed with ringing arpeggios of sixteenth notes. Still on the defensive, Jeff backpedaled steadily and the match moved into a sparsely wooded area.
Furious with himself for having tripped, Jeff found the rhythm and held his ground in a grotto of trees. Mind and body became one smoothly functioning machine and he picked up the tempo. High and low, thrust and cut, engage, riposte, recover—faster and faster until the bright metallic beating of swords seemed continuous. A roar escaped the crowd.
“Holy shit,” Carl breathed. “Look at that arm speed. I can’t follow his moves!”
“Now that’s how you attack!” George crowed. “I’m finally seeing it! By God, he is a warrior!”
Retreating with rapid steps as his guard was compressed inward, the whites of Hathwaite’s eyes stood out in bold relief. Jeff’s saber slipped by a parry and the tip sank into Hathwaite’s sword arm. He cried out and his saber clanged off a rusted barbecue as it fell to the ground.
Stepping back, Jeff gestured with his sword. “Pick it up.”
Face writhing with fear, Hathwaite snatched up the sword. Blood streamed down his arm and his breath came in great sobs as he tried to get enough air. Within minutes his shirt hung in two pieces revealing a red furrow on his chest. Lower, a red blotch spread outward from a puncture wound in the abdomen.
At the end of his strength, Hathwaite put everything left into a desperate assault. A furious crescendo of sword strokes and he froze. The point of Jeff’s saber was resting against his throat. Hathwaite’s face was ghost white and his body was trembling.
“Damn you, Friedrick, just kill me and get it over with!”
Also short of air, Jeff had to talk between deep breaths. “That’s all fencing means to you, isn’t it? Who kills whom? You fucking idiot. How long do you think the club will survive when word of this gets out? Where you going to go when the dean pulls the plug? Downtown to one of the butcher shops?”
Jeff stepped back and resumed guard. “You’ve got a choice. Resign or continue.”
They stared at each other for several heartbeats before Hathwaite stumbled off through the trees. Grady quickly stepped forward.
“Ladies and gentlemen, honor has been served. I suggest we leave immediately before the floaters arrive. Please speak of this to no one!”
As if on cue, a large hovercraft glided into the park. Painted black, it had the contours and armor of a tank. Spewing grass and debris from under containment skirts, the craft settled to the ground with the sound of decelerating fans. Satellite antennas began to deploy at once.
“Don’t talk to those news creeps if you want to save the club! Get out of here!”
The crowd broke and ran for the parking lot, but Sarah seemed frozen. Wiping off his saber, Jeff slipped it into the scabbard and walked past her.
“Good-by, Sarah.”
They rode back to the gym in silence and hurried to the showers. Raiding a first-aid kit, George dressed the wound on Jeff’s ribs. The silence continued until they were on their way out of the gym. Before he pushed through the doors, George caught Jeff’s eyes.
“You’ve answered any questions I might have concerning your ability. That was a consummate display of fencing skill, Jeff. I’m also impressed by the restraint you showed. Given the provocation and that young woman’s presence, another man might have seriously wounded Hathwaite or even killed him.”
Jeff shrugged morosely. “It hasn’t come to that yet.” He laughed bitterly and thrust the door open. “Another night like this, and who knows?”
Outside, Jeff and Carl walked George to his car. As he slid inside, a chorus of wailing sirens knifed through the rain. Jeff and Carl turned to listen, but George looked down at the pavement and muttered, “Goddamed city.” He enabled the fuel cell and rolled the window down. “Watch yourselves going home, fellows. This is not a good night.”
“We will.” Carl patted the car’s roof. “Be cool, George.”
“Yeah.”
The parking lot of an all-night restaurant near the university was busy with vehicles entering and leaving when Carl eased the Ford into a slot. Showing identification to the armed guards out front, they stepped into a box-like entry. Following an electronic scan, the door snapped open.
They ordered a big meal and ate in exhausted silence. Watching Jeff fight, Carl decided, had been one of the most emotionally draining experiences he could remember. He signaled the waiter for a fresh cup of coffee and smiled crookedly.
“One hell of an evening, buddy.”
“Yeah, you could say that,” Jeff replied. “I’ve been wondering, though, whether this is the end of it. I’ve got this feeling that something has been started, not finished. Everything that happened tonight has a sense of the inevitable about it. First Gado, then Sarah and Hathwaite. I must have replayed the whole thing a dozen times, but it still comes out the same. There simply was no way to stop that duel short of walking away.”
“Five years ago you could have walked away from it, Jeff. If you had done that this evening, you might as well have kept walking right out of town.”
“I know that!” Jeff slapped his hand on the table in frustration. Several customers spun in their seats to check it out, another ducked.
A guard sitting at the counter looked at Jeff with narrowed eyes. “Keep it quiet, or leave.”
“I will,” Jeff acknowledged, and dropped his voice to an urgent whisper. “I do know that, Carl. That’s one of the things that really irritates the hell out of me.” He was morosely quiet for a few moments before continuing. “Nothing to be done about it, nothing to do or to be done that would change one damn thing.”
“Want to talk about it?” Carl inquired while closely searching his friend’s features. “Maybe you better. These last months, you’ve reminded me of someone about to go over the edge.”
“That bad?”
“I’m just your average Joe Psychologist,” Carl said with an expressive shrug, “but I get the sense that if someone poked you with the right needle—boom!”
Jeff grimaced and nodded. “Like tonight.”
“No, not like tonight. I agree with George. You showed remarkable restraint.”
The waiter stopped by with a carafe of coffee. He kept a wary distance from Jeff while pouring. Taking a long drink, Jeff sat back rubbing his forehead.
“If showing restraint means that I didn’t kill him, then you’re right.” Shaking his head, Jeff held his hands up as if framing a picture. “Jeff Friedrick, Cultural Anthropologist.”
“Yeah, so?”
“It was that close. Maybe that’s the only reason I didn’t kill him. I tried to t
urn my head off and do him, but my training wouldn’t let me.”
“That’s serious shit, Jeff.”
“More than serious. It scares the hell out of me just thinking about it.”
After a period of silence, Carl said, “And?…”
“Twenty-seven, Carl. Twenty-seven years old and I don’t have a clue. I used to believe that I could make life what I wanted it to be by hard work and desire. What a joke. How do you fit in? What’s the secret? Slinging bullshit? I just can’t make myself do it. Now all I want is to get away.”
“I can dig it, but it doesn’t sound like you’re talking about a vacation.”
“No, not a vacation. I want to disappear for good.”
Carl whistled and raised his eyebrows. “Anthropology isn’t enough to make the difference?”
“Maybe it’s too damn much.” A speculative look settled on Jeff’s face. “While I really love anthropology, thinking about it now it only seems to be a step along the way. Something I have to understand before moving on. But to what?” Jeff let his breath out in a long sigh. “Okay. I’m a specialist in Late Antiquity, right?”
“You mean that European mob scene you’ve talked about?” Carl replied with a wicked grin.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Jeff responded with a smile tugging at his lips. “About 300 to 700 AD.” A frown creased his forehead. “I was drawn to anthropology like a magnet, and when I discovered Late Antiquity there was no doubt where my future lay. I felt like I was coming home! I’ve very nearly memorized every reference I can get my hands on, yet it’s never enough. Can you believe it? Now I’m into Roman history and the Middle Ages trying to get more insight. The people, the history, their manner of warfare—you name it, I’ve studied it. What is it I’m looking for?”
“I’ve seen your apartment. Hardly room for a bed with all those holo cubes. Maybe you’re looking for yourself?”
“Maybe,” Jeff said doubtfully, “but I don’t think that’s all of it. Sometimes I feel like I’m studying for my dissertation again; like I’m going to be tested.” Jeff paused and smiled. “Although Late Antiquity was a brutal period, it was also an exiting time. So much happening!”
Closing one eye, Carl pantomimed drawing a bow. “Twang!”
Jeff threw his hands up and laughed. “Okay, okay. So I’m atavistic.”
“Nah. Not implying that. We’ve been friends long enough that I know how important that period is to you.”
“Maybe it’s too important. It isn’t only that I’m into archery and fencing, or that I’m absorbed by the peoples of Late Antiquity. Sometimes they seem to be the only real things in life. Maybe if I put some distance between that stuff and myself I’d find a way of fitting in. There has to be a point to life somewhere! God, I hope there is!”
Sitting back in the booth, Carl stretched mightily. “As far as fitting into the system goes, who am I to talk? I don’t see anymore hope or purpose in it than you do. Thing is, biology and chemistry make the difference for me.” Carl smiled wistfully. “Jeff, if you happen to find a point to life will you let me know?”
“You’re on the top of all my lists, buddy. Thanks for being there.”
Carl happened to look at the clock near the door and let out a dismayed whistle. “Time goes fast when you’re having fun, boyo. Nearly midnight! I have to drop some reference cubes off at the lab or old Benford will have my skin in the morning.”
“Go on without me. It’s only about ten blocks to my apartment. I’ve got to walk some of this off.”
“You kidding? I think it’s more like twenty. Man, you know what it’s like out there. No one walks unless he’s in a friendly crowd and armed. Ride back with me.”
“I do know what it’s like, but I can’t imagine anything capping that little fling with Hathwaite. No one is even going to see me.”
“Bullshit,” Carl shot back. “Those gangs have every square inch staked out. This is crazy. No, it’s stupid! This is not a good night to walk to your car, much less home. Damn it, Jeff, you heard the report.”
Jeff stood up. “I’m walking.”
“I think this is a very bad decision. You take too many risks. It’s really going to bite you one of these days.”
Back at the Ford, Jeff extracted the saber case. Carl started the car and stuck his head out of the window.
“You know what I think. Stay alert, huh?” With a wave, he accelerated into the night.
The restaurant was located a short distance south of the Lake Washington Ship Canal. On adding up the distance to his apartment, Jeff had to ruefully agree with Carl that it was at least twenty blocks.
“You really are a dumb shit, Friedrick. What are you trying to prove?” Zipping his windbreaker against the damp cold, Jeff set off at a brisk walk.
He gave alleyways a wide berth and stayed in deep shadow whenever possible. However, some sections offered no cover and Jeff felt like a spotlight was on him. Six or eight blocks along the way he began to relax. Only three cars had passed, and he had not seen a single person. Even the police sirens were quiet. As he walked, Jeff insensibly slipped back into brooding over the duel and where in hell he was going in life.
Some minutes later a metallic clatter sent him behind shrubbery with a reflexive lunge. A garbage can lid skidded out of an alley and ground to a halt. Two cats streaked into view side by side, digging for all they were worth. Jeff began to shiver but didn’t move.
A vicious gust whipped by and sent the lid rolling down the sidewalk, drawing his attention. When Jeff looked back, two shadowy figures had materialized out of the alley’s blackness. They jogged south, but a voice drifted back, “See you soon, pilgrim.”
Jeff deserted the sidewalk and hurried from tree to bush to shrub. “You had to be stupid one more time. Those bastards are really going to appreciate your need for a walk while they’re beating your brains out.”
The night had taken its toll, and Jeff stopped to take a breather huddled in the shadow of a battered kiosk. Two streetlights were all that remained to give light, north or south. Two harsh pools of light that revealed nothing except black puddles of water and the never-ending rain.
“Okay smart boy,” he muttered, “want to try the park? At least you’ll have cover.” Jeff stared at the black expanse of Volunteer Park across the street. Trash eddied around his feet while he weighed options and shivered.
A particularly cold blast of air made up his mind. Jeff darted across a Tenth Avenue devoid of life. Vaulting a low fence he dodged into the trees and halted while trying to recall the park’s layout. It had once been well manicured. With time and reduced maintenance budgets it had degenerated into small areas of grass and broken tables surrounded by clumps of trash-clotted fir scrub.
Decided, Jeff pushed deeper into the park ghosting from tree to tree. Somewhere near a siren shrieked up the scale and began to warble. Jeff forced himself to remain still as a police car raced by, lights pulsing. As the siren dopplered downscale, Jeff felt like his last hope had disappeared north.
Taking a shaky breath he pushed branches out of the way and ran for the next tree. Jeff had taken only a few steps when he tripped and fell on top of something soft. Choking off a scream, he frantically rolled away to his knees.
There was a dark blur on the ground. It didn’t move. Reaching out, he touched smooth skin that was cold as marble. Jeff tried to find a pulse in the carotid artery. Nothing. He explored downward with a trembling hand: large breasts, wide hips, pants hanging onto an ankle. When he pulled his hand away, it was covered with something sticky and black.
“Shit! Oh shit!”
Wiping his hand on the grass, Jeff threw up with a convulsive heave. The moon found a rift in the overcast and a cool beam of light revealed the waxen face of a young woman. She had a terrified expression on her face, and sightless eyes stared into the night sky. Jeff crouched off at a run dragging the saber case.
He skirted a dilapidated tower and weed-choked pond near the park’s southern border before pausi
ng. Breathing heavily, he attempted to sling the case but the strap had broken. Clutching the case under his arm, Jeff raised his head above marsh grass and sighted the fence. The strip of grass that bordered it was free of trees and the street beyond was empty.
Although the way was clear, abject fear kept him rooted in place. Spurred by thoughts of his apartment and safety, Jeff sprinted into the open, hurdled the fence, and darted into the protection of a building on Fifteenth Street. Putting a hand against the building for support, he threw his head back and took in breath after shuddering breath.
“Thank God! I’m almost there!”
Taking a new grip on the case, he swung around the corner of the building. At that moment, an indistinct group of people materialized from the darkness of a nearby building. He whirled around looking for an escape route. His heart started to thud when he saw more gang members close the circle.
“Oh, shit! They’ve got me!”
A dim figure stepped forward from the group in front of him, whispering mirth. “Looks like you seen a ghost, puke. Somethin’ around here we outta be afraid of?” Laughter and giggles circled Jeff. “Maybe you met our little sweetie off there in the park, eh? Ain’t she somethin’? Ya try her out? Should’a. Best piece of ass they ever was. Now c’mon, tell ol’ Teacher here what ya got in that case.” The circle drew in tighter.
It took several moments for Jeff to realize the man thought his saber case was filled with drugs. He ran his tongue over dry lips and tried to speak. Nothing came out.
“Looks to me you just gotta be a runner for those dumb-bastard Leopards, don’t ya think? How much stash you carrying in that case, man? I think we’re gonna have to really screw your whole night.” The circle closed with a rush.
As had happened in the duel with Hathwaite, time and motion slowed to a crawl. Jeff lunged for what appeared to be an opening. Someone jumped in his path and he swung the case at the man’s head with all his strength. The impact of wood splintering against bone shuddered up his arm, accompanied by a wailing shriek.
Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) Page 3