“My grandfather was a very accomplished Master instructor, sixth Duan,” he said with pride. “My father was his star pupil and he ended up marrying his Master’s daughter, so it wasn’t like I was going to have a choice about this,” he gestured to his sword. “When I was young I loved it. The training, I mean. I thought my dad was so tough and I wanted to be just like him. But when I got to be fourteen, fifteen…about your age,” he said and Fi choked a little and then cleared her throat.
He stopped. Stupid, he thought. That sounds condescending.
“I’m sorry,” he smiled. “I don’t mean to sound like an old man…I’m only nineteen,” he explained, “but like you said, it seems like a million years ago.” She nodded and smiled and his heart stuttered, confusing him for a moment. He shook his head and raced ahead.
“So I always trained with my dad, for hours a day, and for years of my life. It was intense. Once I started to get sick of it, I resented him. I missed out on things my friends were doing and I couldn’t see the point. Who the hell had to fight like this anymore? I tried to explain. I tried to rebel. I tried to shame him even, with my antics, but he was relentless. Tai Chi was not about the fight,” he would say over and over, “it was about the mindset, the discipline, the commitment.”
Asher paused, looking pensive. “Only now do I truly understand what he was trying to teach me.” He met her eyes and then dropped them, feeling exposed. “I just wish I would’ve been able to tell him how much I loved and appreciated him before all this happened,” he finished. His fingers couldn’t seem to stop picking at pebbles. Rolling them in his fingertips seemed like a meditation…a distraction from his heavy heart. How he wished he could see his parents one more time. He could apologize to his father and wrap his arms around his mother and listen to her whoop as he twirled her around. He dropped his pebbles with a sigh.
And then Fi did an unexpected thing. She scooted over close to him and gestured for him to turn his back. Confused, he smiled and then turned. She turned away as well and he felt her sit with her back leaned to his. It was an odd, he mused, how simultaneously private and intimate the arrangement felt. The feeling of her small back pressing into his was reassuring and occasional stray curls brushed against his neck and shoulders, each touch light and soft. He could feel the shallow breaths she took to avoid hurting her sore ribs. Her closeness was comforting.
----------- Fi -----------
Fi’s head whirled in confusion as she wondered how she’d ended up back-to-back with Asher. Why did I do this? What on Earth was I thinking? Though she burned with embarrassment at her impulsiveness, she tried to sound calm.
“Where is your father now?” she asked, her quiet voice floating away into the dark night air.
“I don’t know,” Asher’s voice was strained. “I was in New York because I was a freshman studying journalism at Columbia. I’m actually from Illinois, from the suburbs outside Chicago. When the soldiers surrounded the City, the phones and Internet jammed up and I wasn’t able to reach them.” His voice grew strangled and Fi felt a lump in her own throat. She reached backward toward his right hand. She closed her eyes and stretched her pinky finger out to touch him. His back stiffened and she pulled her hand away.
“Sorry!” she said through her teeth. So stupid! She thought to herself. Why did you do that? Why would he want to hold your hand? You’re just sharing stories. Suddenly she felt his hand reach back and grab hers. His grip was tight at first and then it softened and her heart began to race. At first it felt like she would never breathe again, and then the breath came too quickly.
“Ow!” she winced as her ragged breathing stung her rib. Asher rubbed her hand and her stomach tightened into knots.
“What about your mother?” Fi asked and then immediately regretted it. Why make him even sadder? His fingers continued to trace across the back of her hand, their backs still joined.
“My mother I loved simply and completely and I did not get a chance to say goodbye to her either. I never reached them again,” he choked. His fingers curled around hers and they intertwined. She felt herself take a shaky breath. He has parents…had parents. Has parents? Oh God, she thought. What if that had happened to her? His pain was almost unbearable.
“Asher,” she turned her head so that she could almost face him in the darkness. “Ash,” she repeated gently, suddenly feeling protective. “I’m so sorry. I never knew how lucky I was to just to have the chance to say goodbye.” Asher’s hand squeezed her and he nodded.
“Thanks for telling me about your dad,” he said to her. “He sounds like a dad who was lucky to have such a devoted little girl.”
Fi bristled at the term, but Asher did not notice. Biting her lip, Fi decided to let it go. He meant it nicely, she sighed. He wasn’t the first person to see her as a little girl. She turned to gaze up at the night sky. Without releasing Asher’s hand, she lay back on her sleeping bag and stared up at the stars. Asher did the same, their fingers still intertwined. As tiny streaks of light flashed across the sky Fi fell into a deep sleep, feeling warm despite the coolness of the spring night.
----------- Sean -----------
Sean awoke with a start several hours later, his face throbbing. Shivering in the early morning air, he brushed cold dewdrops off his clothes and gear. He sat up stiffly in the dim light. The fire was out and the air was cold and dry. Jesus, he shivered, it was frigid today. His black eye had swollen up as tight as a drum, and he could not open the eye at all. He touched his face and cheek gingerly with his fingertips and winced. He could feel the butterflied gashes and puffy lumps that now made up the landscape of his face. He sighed. His face felt like meat. At least the cold helped some with swelling, he thought ruefully. But man, it made things hurt.
Fi and Asher did not stir, so he got up to find a place to relieve himself. His torso still felt like a horse had trampled it. He stood and stretched with care, easing into each muscle. A yawn overtook him and his wounds stretched painfully as he stifled it. Wow, he thought, I really just wanted to crawl back into my bag and sleep for a week.
Unfortunately, nature was calling so he was going to have to stay up. He snuck on tiptoe past his huddled companions and then suddenly, he stopped dead. Fi and Asher lay on their sides, facing one other. Though they were asleep, Sean’s gaze fixed on the space between them where their hands lay outstretched, the fingers intertwined. His heart sank. They slept holding hands? She met him a day ago and she’s holding his hand all night? The guy that beat my face in? His outrage grew. All business all the time my ass, he thought angrily.
For a minute he thought about kicking Asher’s arm away from her. The thought was satisfying, except that Fi would be pissed. Maybe I should just go home alone then, he thought. I could take my pack and find my way back to the Family without her. Let them have their little date in the woods…
He grunted. No, Fi would track him down and then she’d kill him. He sighed and felt his face protest at the movement. Goddammit, he thought, just when it seemed like the morning couldn’t get more painful. He limped off to find some privacy.
A Matter of Trust
----------- Fi -----------
Over the next two days of hiking, they all shared more information and stories with each other, though Fi asked Sean not to discuss Eden yet.
“Until Asher is accepted into the family,” she said, “we can’t give that information away.” Nothing in his demeanor led her to believe he would actually cause them harm, but she was cautious anyway.
“If Asher is accepted into the family,” Sean corrected her, his tone gruff. Fi frowned. She understood Sean’s feelings, but he knew that she wanted Asher to be accepted. Why was he so ‘anti’ all the time now, she wondered? It wasn’t like him to be so negative. Regardless, she had other things on her mind, so she tried to ignore his moodiness.
Whenever they took breaks, she asked Asher to start showing her some of his fighting techniques. She wondered about his style and his weapon, a jian he told her
it was called. It was pretty crazy, she thought, and she loved to watch him use it. In the middle of the second break of the day, Sean walked off to take a rag bath by the nearby stream. Fi seized the opportunity to train with Asher.
“Ash, stop!” she laughed, whirling around in her fighting stance. “It’s not fair!” Again, she spun as Asher circled her with his sword drawn. “You know I don’t have enough training to even play fight with you,” she pouted.
“Well then Fi,” he grinned wider, still circling. “Don’t fight back! Just stand still so I can show you,” he urged. His voice grew serious. “You said you wanted to see it from fighting position. If you stand still, I can demonstrate and I promise you won’t be hurt.”
It was true, she thought. It was she who had asked to see him fight from the attacker’s perspective. But it was against her nature to stand still, to not try to fight, to win. Worse, it was also against her nature to trust. She shook her head and he frowned and started to lower his sword, making her reconsider. Hmpf, she thought, annoyed. I am a little afraid. Inside, her conflicting feelings battled for control. She yearned to trust Asher, to stand still and show her courage.
“Ok,” she agreed. Taking a deep breath, she stood still and straight with her arms at her sides. “Show me,” she whispered.
“Ok. You have to promise me that you will stay completely still. Do not move a muscle, alright?” He emphasized this with a little tension in his voice.
“Gotcha,” she replied and pinned her lips together to show her ‘stillness’. Asher chuckled. Then he closed his eyes, bowed his head, and drew several long deep breaths. Fi smiled in recognition at his meditation. His braid hung behind his back, but long blonde strands fell free around his face. When he raised his head, his eyes were focused, their gaze distant and clear.
“Do you trust me?” his voice was heavy. Fi nodded and then he moved, so quickly that she gasped and froze as metal thrust past her. Staying still was going to be easier than she thought, she realized as her heart pounded. Despite her certainty that he was keeping the distance safe, it was still terrifying. The flashing blade generated a tight, singing sound like a hard breeze. Asher’s movements and breathing were swift, calculated, and precise.
He swung around behind her, the blade whistling toward her waist in a blow that would have killed her, if that had been his intent. Adrenalin washed over Fi like a wave, weakening her legs and leaving her cheeks flushed. It was awesome, seeing him fight from this perspective. The beauty of his attack was spellbinding, his strong slender limbs sure, his movement fluid. The blade glinted in the dappled sunlight, seeming to spark as it flew. It arced through the air and then, in a flash, it was at her throat. Asher stood beside her, breathless, the cold metal of his blade hovering one inch above her long, slender neck.
----------- Asher -----------
“Do you trust me?” Asher panted, his eyes searching her face. Fi’s eyes danced away, her discomfort obvious, before she returned his gaze. As she squinted in the sunlight, Asher saw the hazel in her eyes turn to gold. The warmth suited her, he decided, his chest suddenly tight.
“Yes Ash, I do,” she responded, her gaze remaining steady as the blade teased at her throat. “I trust you with my life.” Though he could tell she was trying to appear calm, Asher could see her hands shaking and he felt odd. Guilty. It was obvious that she had been terrified, yet she’d somehow overcome her fear. Suddenly a voice shouted behind them.
----------- Fi -----------
“What the hell is going on?” Sean rushed toward them. In an instant, Asher stepped away and sheathed his sword.
“It’s ok Sean!” Fi shouted, holding up her hands to stop his enraged charge. It worked. Sean jerked to a halt, looking confused and angry.
“It’s ok,” she reassured him again, her voice calm. Fi could see the fear in Sean’s eyes. Dammit, it was foolish, she thought, chiding herself. “We were just training. I asked him to show me, Sean,” she insisted, “It was my idea.”
Sean rolled his eyes, infuriated. “Of course it was your idea Fi,” he growled. “Of that, I have no doubt.” As he spoke, his face reddened. Fi was shocked by the intensity of his rage. Then he turned his anger toward Asher, who appeared chagrined. “But you!” Sean yelled and pointed at him. “You I expect to have more sense. Just because she,” he pointed back to Fi, “doesn’t have any sense of self-preservation doesn’t make it ok for you to use that to show off!”
He turned to stomp off. “We don’t have time for these games Fi,” he reminded her over his shoulder as he walked away.
“I’m sorry Sean,” Fi called after him, “I didn’t mean to frighten you, it was thoughtless,” she pleaded with him.
“When I get back with water, I’m heading out,” he said, still walking away. “I hope you two still have plans to join me,” he shot back. After a moment of stunned silence, Fi turned to Asher and mouthed the word, ‘Whoops’. He smiled and she covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. They turned their attention back to their packs.
For the rest of the hike Fi made sure to talk mostly to Sean and pay him a lot of attention. It was starting to get annoying, she thought, his attitude issues. It seemed a little like she was always babysitting his feelings. Still, it was true that she had thought of more sensible ways to pass the time in the past. But not more exciting ones, her brain whispered, startling her. It was rare for Fi to focus on anything she thought or wanted for herself anymore. Well, she chided herself. It was time to focus back on the Family again. I’ve had enough excitement for a while.
That evening they found a rock fall that formed a small cave that would function as their final night’s shelter. Once again, Sean snoozed while Fi and Asher chatted. Fi always envied Sean his ability to drop to sleep anywhere and anytime. She used to joke with him that he was narcoleptic. Fi, on the other hand, rarely slept for more than a few hours at a time. As they had done the prior nights, she sat up by the fire with Asher. He pulled a paper journal from his pack and handed it to her.
“Here,” he said with pride. “This is what I was working on before this all happened.” He gestured for her to open it. As Fi flipped through the journal, she stopped and gazed up at Asher in awe. This was an amazing piece of work. With each new page turned, she unconsciously bent closer, as if the journal were drawing her in. The articles dated back to the 1990s. All were about issues with the food supply, including genetic modification.
“You were working on this?” Fi breathed. Her fingers and eyes continued to skim the pages.
“Yes for about a year,” Asher responded.
“Why?” she asked. Her mouth felt dry. The words barely came out. “Why this topic?”
“It was an accident, really,” he shrugged. “A good friend of mine from high school died of cancer and it started there. I dug and dug and somehow ended up in the middle of this food thing.” His expression changed when he spoke about his work, Fi realized. It was like another person came through, like a glimpse of the man he would have become in the old world.
“I couldn’t shake my fixation on the food,” he added as she turned her attention back to the journal. The last two years the articles were more familiar to her…things about dying fish, dying grass, bread lines and riots abroad, the President’s speeches at home. And with every article there were scribbled personal notes, connecting the dots, outlining the players. He had circled and underlined certain names over and over.
“These,” Fi said, pointing to underlines beneath ‘Ceminex’, ‘Ovoid’, ‘VerdeSys’, and ‘Prolifix’. “Are these the companies involved with the genetic modification?” She kept her tone purposefully casual. They hadn’t discussed Sickfood or her knowledge in that area yet.
“Among other things,” he nodded. “Sometimes it was pesticides, sometimes it was genetic modifications, sometimes it was just basic ‘tinkering’.” He echoed her father’s words and she gasped, her eyes widening.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Asher you know about
it, don’t you?”
His eyes narrowed. “Know about what?”
“About the Sickfood,” she hissed, nodding toward his book. He half-smiled, a tired gesture, and nodded.
“Is that what you call it? I used to call it MFT food,” he said. He laughed at the obvious confusion on Fi’s face. “MFT meant ‘manufactured’,” he explained. “Yours is catchier,” he teased and she smiled. “So we’re all dying slowly anyway,” he sighed. Fi turned away for a moment as a wave of guilt washed over her. She ached to tell him about Eden, but she couldn’t. Not yet anyway. “I suppose some of us may be immune to some things, but your idea of eating game is a good one I think,” he said to her. Fi smiled.
“I have a real crowd-pleaser for that one too,” she said. “Truefood.” Asher choked and she laughed at the lameness of it. “What do you want, I was thirteen when I came up with this stuff.” Asher grinned.
“I like it,” he demurred. “Why get past the basic facts? Anyway, when you shared your jerky with me that first night, I wondered if you knew, or if you’d just been smart enough to hunt to survive. And then you’ve faced so much of the consequences first-hand,” he added and then stopped, sending that he had reached sensitive territory. He examined her face, concerned, but her focus was still on the journal.
“Anyway, I don’t know what I think I will do with all this,” he gestured to the journal. “But I thought that if I did survive, I could write a book documenting everything for the survivors.” His tone grew fervent. “I don’t want us to all forget, to forget our hubris,” he said and then stopped. “Sorry for the geeky vocab.” His apology was accompanied by a red flush and Fi stifled a laugh. At least he blushed at times too. She smiled and poked him.
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