The Collective (9 page)

  He was dressed in white, with boxer pants and a loose
shirt. He rested lazily against the warehouse staring at the sky, disinterested
in the terror the gang was causing. One of the gang motioned to the other two
thugs and they approached Warden. The group crowded him as the main member
spoke, kicking Warden’s leg. “Hey, we need half of whatever you have there.”

Warden responded half in a daze. “What…?”

“Food and water now!” The gang member yelled angrily.

Warden looked at the lead member coldly. “Look. I think
you’ve taken enough. Be content with what you have.”

The Scorpions were struck by his casual manner. Most of the
people were too fearful to raise questions. The leader addressed him again.
“Are you crazy or something? Do you know who we are?”

Warden was unresponsive just staring forward into the sea
of concrete before him.

‘I don’t know if you know this, but…” The biker tapped his
biceps to show Warden his scorpion tattoo; a black scorpion with one claw open
and one claw closed. “We run things around here. If you don’t start handing
over that stuff, you’re gonna be in a world of trouble.”

Warden’s facial expression was unchanged. “A wicked man
often brings himself into trouble by giving his tongue too great a liberty.”
The gang was dumbfounded by Warden’s reply, but slowly determined they had been
insulted.

“That’s it! Let’s end this guy.” The lead biker reached
down to grab the defiant man.  Warden jumped up, grabbed the back of the thug’s
head and slammed his knee into the leader’s face causing teeth and bone to
snap. Before the man’s head was out of his hands, Warden spun around and
delivered a skull shattering elbow to the other gang member. He pulled the gun
from the goon’s holster as he fell to the ground. The third gang member was in
shock at how quickly his comrades had been downed. Warden punched him square in
the chest with his open palm. As the man slid to the pavement Warden approached
with the weapon. The last Scorpion gripped his chest and his eyes widened as
Warden leveled the pistol. 

“Death is the broom I take in my hand to sweep the world
clean!”

The shot rang out across the desolate lot. All three bikers
lay about the ground. But there were no cheers for Warden, only trepidation.

“What have you done?” An old man shouted feebly. “Now more
will come. You can’t fight them all!”

The man was weak from lack of food. Fear was etched across
his face from so many years of telling himself things will never change.  Warden
walked over to a fallen gang member and removed his holster, strapping it to
his waist. 

“I’d rather die fighting, than die wanting for food and
water.”

The old man quieted down. He thought Warden was foolish.
Others in the town shared the same sentiment. They rushed to collect the dead
rogues, placing them and their bikes on the edge of the land. The people braced
for retaliation. Their anxiety was palpable. By the following day the roar of
eight bikes could be heard nearing the camp. The gang rolled into town in
search of their missing brothers. Warden strode out to meet the leader. The
townspeople gave the oppressors a wide berth, staying clear of the calamity as
much for their safety as to signify they were not aligned with this lone
warrior. Warden was unarmed as he stepped in front of the leader’s bike while
the Scorpions dismounted. Similar to the previous bikers, the leader was large
and eager to pick a fight. His muscles tensed as he rose from the bike staring
at Warden behind the dark shades covering his eyes. He wore a helmet painted
red, with horns curved up on either side. In case the symbolism was not
obvious, ‘Diablo’ was etched across the face of the helmet at an angle in red.
“Where are our brothers and our water?” He demanded scanning the town.

Warden stood stoically. “I’m sure we can come to a
resolution.”

“A resolution?” Diablo reared his head and gave a deep
laugh. “No one stands behind you my ignorant friend. We make the rules here!”

Warden was unwavering. “We will keep what we hunt, trade
and find. Your group will have to find another town to loot.”

The gang leader looked back at his men. “This guy is
insane.” All the gang shared in a laugh. Every so often some lone person would
rise up against them and they would have to set an example. This would be no
different. Diablo pulled a small sword from his motorcycle.  “It’s been a long
time since someone dared to stand against us.”

“I’m unarmed.” Warden held his arms out.

Diablo grinned. “Good. Let’s have some fun guys.” The seven
bikers began pulling out bats, knives, pipes and other forms of hand to hand
weapons. 

“Thus honor lies broken at the feet of the unjust man.”
Warden’s voice carried softly over the wind.

“Broken, bruised and battered.” Diablo raised his sword
high over his head and swung it down upon Warden. All the townspeople grimaced
expecting to see Warden cut in two. Warden dodged Diablo’s blow and brought his
right arm behind the man, using his momentum to send Diablo crashing face first
into the concrete. The gang was shocked by his speed. Diablo was the biggest
and toughest of the Scorpions. To see him dealt with so effortlessly gave the
gang pause.  Warden took the sword from the gang leader’s hand. He stood slack
holding the sword to his side in a non-threatening manner. The gang eyed the
upstart as they gripped the various weapons in their hands. It was dead silence
except for the wind rustling through the trees in the distance. One of the gang
members let out a primal yell. The rest of the gang responded with a resounding
cry of ‘Scorpions’. It was seven to one and Warden should have been easily
crushed under the numbers. But it was Warden who overwhelmed his foes with his
sheer skill and ferocity. Warden dug into the first attacking member with the
sword and crushed the larynx of the second. The people watching covered the
children’s eyes as other’s looked on with awe and reverence. As quickly as he
engaged the first biker, the fight was over as he slashed through the last man
standing. Warden paused, took a rag from his pocket and wiped the blade clean.
He walked over to Diablo’s motorcycle and took the scabbard that sheathed the
sword. The people were stunned as he made his way back toward the warehouse.
One man had dispatched of eleven gangsters in less than twenty-four hours. But
there were more to come and the people were still dismayed.  Warden grabbed his
water from his bag and took a long drink. No one said anything. Finally one of
the elder men spoke up as he pointed a stubborn, wrinkled finger at Warden.

“Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve condemned us all.
They will not rest until they have revenge. They’ll be back in greater numbers.
Probably double or triple the men!”

Warden sipped his drink, hardly listening to the frightened
old man. “I guess we all have to fight then. That’s if you want to be rid of
them?”

“Who are you?” The old man replied angered by the newcomer
that had upset their peaceful balance. “Who are you to tell us? They will seek
payback and they will have it.                   Most of us are too weak to
fight them.”

The crowd murmured in agreement. Warden sized up the crowd
and the old man was right. Most of the young people were deceased, part of the
gangs or too afraid to fight. “I see your point, but if a few of you take a
stand we can beat them back.”

The old man threw his hand in the air in disgust. “He’s
mad!” Some of the warehouse dwellers nodded in agreement. The elder had the
crowd behind him. “You downed...what, eleven men? There are hundreds in their
ranks. You and …what…twenty able bodied youths best them all? It’s not
possible!” The crowd was agreeing with the old man and the anxiety was
beginning to rise. A sense of impending doom washed over the people. Warden
knew he had to sway them to his side.

“You are one of the eldest survivors here. Your words do
not fall on deaf ears. But if twenty among your rank will stand with me, we
will conquer the gangs. For men ought to either be indulged or destroyed. For
if you merely offend them they will take vengeance, but if you injure them greatly
they are unable to retaliate. We will injure the Scorpions greatly and
end                    the plague upon this town.”

Even the talkative old man was without a response. Young
men and women started stepping through the crowd stopping near Warden as a show
of unity. 

By the time the goons returned in greater numbers as the
elder man had predicted, Warden had a small army at his back. Many of those
young fighters gave their lives, but the Scorpions were decimated. Half their
forces were lost that day. They retreated, allowing Warden to rebuild this area
as his domain. He worked to renovate the warehouse and began to hold the
tournament a few years later to attract new recruits. It’s amazing that a lone
man would empower so many people by standing against evil and corruption.” 
Naomi put both hands on Keera’s shoulders. “Now do you understand?”

“Yeah.” Keera said mockingly. “You traded one warlord for
another.”

Naomi patted her shoulders. “You are a hard one to
convince.”

“Really. I understand. I feel that is what Abel is trying
to do. He’s taking a stand against Xonox.”

“That is another matter entirely.” Naomi searched to change
the subject. “What would you do if something happened to Abel?”

“I don’t know.” Keera admitted. “I pray he’s protected.”

“Tell me truthfully, you have feelings for him?” Naomi
inquired.

“Maybe.” She replied in a low, soft voice.

“I knew it.” Naomi clasped her hands together excitedly.
“We’re going to get you made up so when he comes back he’ll never want to leave
you again.”

Keera was clearly uncomfortable with the suggestion. “I’m
not sure.”

“Trust me.” Naomi assured. “I know the way to men’s
hearts.”

Keera knew Abel cared about her and protected her, but she
was sure his need for revenge trumped any deep feelings he held. “I don’t think
Abel is concerned with such things.” 

Naomi persisted. “There is a direct line to every man’s
heart and I’m going to show you the way to Abel’s.”

Keera shyly nodded her head in agreement. Her friend
clasped her hand with excitement as she moved with intent. Naomi would ensure
that Abel had left a young woman with Warden, but would come back to find the
woman of his dreams.

CHAPTER 9

TOMMIE GUN

Abel awoke feeling tight and uncomfortable. He attempted to
stretch his arms as the sleep crowded his eyes. To his dismay his arms were
stuck in place. Worse yet he could feel the rocks and grass rushing below him.
To Abel’s surprise he was caught in a net being dragged across the greenery by
the very man who saved him earlier, Grey. Abel reached for one of his pistols,
but they were conveniently missing. Grey had his back to him as he casually
pulled Abel through the brush. Abel could see his backpack slung across Grey’s
shoulders with his blade protruding out.  There was one weapon that Grey had
not discovered. The handle dug into Abel’s flesh as it banged against the
rocks. Now, if he could just reach it. Feeling the weight of the net shift,
Grey turned towards him. “You’re up. Good.”

“What are you doing?” Abel said in a commanding tone,
hoping to slow down the man to enable him to reach his weapon. “I thought we
had a deal!  You need to let me out of here Grey or...”

“Or what?” Grey spun around his eyes wide and red. “I’ve
got your weapons...I’m holding the net....And by the way. I do know Tommie Gun.
He’s a friend of mine.” 

Abel sought to explain the confusion. “Listen Grey. I’m
trying to....”

Grey interrupted. “I know what you’re trying to do!  But
we’ll see what the Council thinks!”

“The Council? Wait.”

“Yes. How do you think I know these woods like the back of
my hand? We’re going to a dinner in your honor. Don’t be surprised if you end
up over the fire!” Grey looked down upon Abel with a wildness that had escaped
Abel the previous day. His eyes were hollow and deadly.  Nothing Abel said would
sway his actions. Abel struggled to reach the gun in the small of his back.
This relationship needed to come to a swift end.

“No use struggling. I’ve got all your firearms.” Grey
turned and started pulling Abel again. Abel strained to reach the weapon as the
land rushed under him. Without a word, Grey stopped in his tracks. He was
motionless for a few seconds, then his head slumped down. Lifting his head and
looking back towards Abel out the corner of his eye, he gagged on his own
blood.  The net dropped from his hands and he fell back with a thud. The dagger
was lodged in his chest as he fell on top of Abel. Bewildered, Abel lay frozen
until he heard the laughter.

“Good shot Harvey!” The biker exclaimed. “He never saw it.’

“That’s definitely one of the guys that attacked me and the
others.”  The voices grew closer as Grey’s body was pushed to the side,
revealing the aggressors. Harvey, the biker with the vicious bear hug, was
hovering over him with two fresh gang members. They say bad luck comes in threes,
Abel thought. He could see the knife wound patched up on Harvey’s neck. No
doubt a beauty mark from Grey. Harvey bent over and pulled at the net bringing
Abel face to face with him. “You cost us two of our guys the other day and
we’re gonna take it outta your hide.”

Abel fumbled for the gun handle as the brute held him up
with one arm. “Be careful.  Your boss tried the same thing and look what it got
him.”

“Wait a minute? You’re the guy from Bourdain?” Harvey
scowled.

“Yeah. What about it?” Abel responded his fingertips
touching the cold, steel of the gun.

The biker was incensed. “You got a lot of lip for a dead
guy!”

“That’s funny, ‘cause I was about to say the same to you.” 
The barrel of the gun slammed into the bottom of Harvey’s chin.  Abel squeezed
the trigger and Harvey’s luck finally ran out. The two goons dived for cover.
Abel rolled away, quickly untangling himself from the net. Shots began to ring
out over the forest. Abel could not place his attackers.  The forest began to
shake amongst the confusion. Abel clutched his weapon with his back to a tree.
This was the most excitement he had encountered on his entire journey. He was
starting to believe the lore of the Grazen Woods. He was here less than one day
and there was chaos all around him. The forest began to settle, but Abel was
still focused on any sudden movement. He could hear a low murmur near Grey and
the fallen gang member, an indecipherable language in a faint tone.  Leading
with his gun in his right hand and a knife in the left, he stepped from the
protection of the tree base. There was no sign of the remaining bikers, just a
lone figure knelt over Grey’s body. The man was kneeling as he whispered to
Grey’s stiff body. He closed the hunter’s eyes and without moving from the
fallen man he addressed Abel.

“He’s dead.”

“I know.” Abel responded with his weapons at the ready.

Where did this guy come from? He thought? He had appeared
out of thin air just like Grey and he was not dressed like a biker.  Holding
the gun and knife tightly, Abel stopped in his tracks unsure of the man’s
intent.  If this was a friend of Grey’s there could be a misunderstanding. Abel
could see the well-worn blood stained knife in the man’s left hand.  Abel had
forgotten about the two bikers. There was no sign of them, as if the forest had
swallowed them. The man remained still as his eyes scanned over Grey. He was
long and muscular, with short cropped blonde hair that was matted to his head. 
His sleeveless vest, pants and boots were black. The black tank top he wore was
of little contrast to the outfit. Abel noticed the vest casting a shadow over
the tattoo on his arm at the shoulder.  The man spoke again. 

“Were you traveling together?” This time he locked his eyes
with Abel’s and his glare burrowed through Abel’s head. It was clear he sought
retribution for his comrade’s death. Abel measured his words. “Grey assisted me
with the gangs yesterday. Today he ensnared me. The gang caught him by
surprise.”

“Where were you headed?” The man asked his eyes fixed on
Abel.

“Just passing through.” Abel said

“You weren’t going to the center of the forest by any
chance?” He asked.

“Possibly, who wants to know?” Abel was growing tired of
the stranger’s questions. He needed to decide if he was going to fight or let
Abel pass. Keera and Isnor lives’ depended on his quick return.

“I’m asking the questions here.” The man said.

Abel stared back, his eyes unblinking. The tension was stifling
and this game had worn thin.  “Looking for a guy named Tommie Gun. You know
him.”

The man twitched slightly as Abel spoke, indicating he

might
know Tommie Gun. “Know him...” The man tensed and Abel braced for his response.
“…I am him.”

The knife was thrown so quickly, it was inches from Abel’s
face before he deflected it with a loud ‘ping’. As swift as a cat, Tommie was
upon him with another knife in hand, while he batted Abel’s gun away. Abel was
on his back with Tommie rearing back to plunge his dagger into his chest. Abel
swung his blade short to gain some room, catching Tommie’s wrist on his forearm.
The blade was dangerously close to Abel’s eye. Abel dropped his knife and they
stayed frozen in place until Abel twisted and kneed Tommie in the ribs. Abel
sprung to his feet as Tommie jumped back stunned by Abel’s strength. They sized
each other in a short semi-circle. Abel could see his gun lying among the
leaves. He leaned back to retrieve it. Just then Tommie launched himself at
Abel and they fell to the ground in a tussle. Abel gained the advantage,
crashing his knee into Tommie’s chin. Tommie staggered back trying to gain
position. They circled one another panting like beasts. Tommie adjusted his
jawbone, Abel cracked his knuckles. The two combatants danced around waiting
for an invisible bell to sound.  Instead, the silence was broken by a whizzing
sound through the air.  A metallic disk dropped between the two foes.

“Crap...”  Tommie sprung backwards behind a thicket of
trees. Abel did not wait to decipher the threat, he instinctively sought cover
as the blast erupted searing the back of his hair and clothes. Lying face down
in the mud, he could hear someone striding through the woods.

Standing
in the smoke filled clearing, The Mountie scanned the forest for Tommie Gun. 
Stepping over the bushes he found Tommie, still dazed from the blast. Grabbing
a handful of Tommie’s shirt, The Mountie pulled the man toward him. “Hey
Tommie. Long time. Where’s the plans?”

Tommie replied with a bloody toothed grin. “Hey Mount. 
Didn’t expect you so soon.”

Holding Tommie with his left hand, The Mountie slapped Tommie
across the face with his right. “The plans. Now. I promise you a quick exit
from this world.”

Tommie spat the blood from his mouth. “No can do Mount.”

The Mountie reared back to slap Tommie again. A large
branch fell from the tree canopy and landed near the mercenary forcing him to
look up. The trees began to shake with violence, almost condemning The
Mountie’s actions. Dropping Tommie, the mercenary pulled out his Luger and
stared into the woods. Suddenly, a sharp stick shaped like a spear ricocheted off
The Mountie’s back shoulder armor. He turned to face an unseen opponent. His
goggles scanned from infrared to zoom trying to detect the attacker. Another
spear zipped out of the trees landing at his left foot. As he stared at the
primitive spear sticking out of the ground, another hit his hand knocking away
his firearm. The Mountie focused in the direction of the thrown spear and
opened his coat, revealing the metal boxes. Abel knew this was his opportunity.
He leaped at The Mountie and kicked him in his armored chest. The offensive
attack caught the hired killer off guard. That was something that never
happened to him. Abel followed with a combination of punches that stunned the
bounty hunter. Victory seemed imminent for Abel as he pressed the assault.  Shaking
off the blows, The Mountie decided to spin the fight back to his favor. Pulling
a pistol from his arsenal he fired two shots wildly, uncommon for a man with
deadly accurate aim. One of the bullets caught Abel across the cheek. Abel
retreated near Tommie and The Mountie refocused intent on eliminating the
aggressor. To his surprise and Abel’s relief, a hail of spears fell from the
woods. The Mountie fired into the trees. Something, a combination of man and
beast, screamed out from the branches. Yet the spears fell without ceasing. At
least if the mercenary was not being injured, he was distracted. Abel turned to
Tommie. “I’m here for the plans. Not for you. Warden sent me.”

“Warden?” Tommie understood.  “Why didn’t you say so
earlier. Could have saved you that butt whoopin.”

Abel grimaced at Tommie’s timing. The Mountie was occupied,
but they were not out of danger. “Follow me. I’ve got a truck nearby.”

“Yeah. Right. I think my people have this under control.”
The pair rushed through the thicket. They glanced back to see The Mountie
knocking away spears and firing round after round into the midst. Abel thought,
he might be the first outsider actually saved by the forest dwellers. It
probably helped to be with one of the men connected to the enigmatic tribe that
dwelled within. He looked over at Tommie and made a mental note to probe him
for information later. For now he was glad to see his jeep in one piece.

“Let’s get out of here!” Abel shouted as he started up the
vehicle.

“Back to Warden’s place?” Tommie asked. “He’s gonna love
what I dug up.”

“Yeah Warden’s. But first I need to make a little detour.”
Abel said as he pulled away from the forest.

“Where?  What could be more important.” Tommie wondered
after all they had been through.

“Gravope!” The last day had been a whirlwind. Battle after
battle. Abel knew for sure the legend of the Grazen Woods was no myth. He could
not have prepared for all he encountered.  Extenuating circumstances and a bit
of good luck had allowed him to come out of the forest unharmed. The missions
that lay ahead would be easy in comparison. Abel pushed down his goggles and
hit the accelerator. Grazen rapidly faded away into the background. He was
going back to where his journey began.  Maybe he could find solace in seeing
the town and his home again. Maybe if he was lucky, he could find the man who
betrayed his family.

*******

Gravope was unchanged in the days Abel had been gone. He
had set out to avenge his parents and the path had taken him around towns and
places he only heard about in stories. It was good to see his home and the
people still surviving. The townspeople were on edge and scurried with
suspicion when the black jeep rolled through the borough. He could not blame
them. An unfamiliar jeep with two rough looking men riding about would make
anyone question their intentions. Abel thought how he looked; goggles over his
eyes, face speckled with dirt and his clothes sullied and stained with blood.
Tommie dressed in all black and in a similar state was an equally imposing figure.
Abel rolled through the stares and murmurs stopping in front of his home.
Unimpressed with the surroundings, Tommie questioned the reason they were in
Gravope.                    

“This is what we drove out here for?”

Ignoring Tommie, Abel climbed from the Jeep. He walked past
the house, by the small fence, to the hidden well. Just as Abel thought, sealed
with a large piece of metal bolted to anchors on the ground. Painted in red on
the face of the metal was the all too common double ‘XX’s’. Abel tightened his
jaw as he swallowed the bitter taste of revenge. He walked through the back
door of his parents’ home to find it dirty and in shambles. It was a sight he
never experienced in all his years living there. They were poor, but his family
prided themselves on their cleanliness. Abel spotted the bucket he often used
to get water. It was cracked and the handle was missing. Abel could see a faint
light seeping from under the bedroom door. Probably from the front window, he
thought. Abel closed his eyes as he touched the door, imaging his parents in
the room; laughing, talking and sharing stories on how things use to be. He
knew it was just an unfulfilled wish. The door creaked as he pushed it open,
pivoting off the hinge. He could see the mattresses all over the room, a broken
lamp on the floor and the shattered window pane. How horrible it must have been
for his mother. Laying there helpless, dying from a disease easily cured by one
of Xonox’s doctors, unable to aid her husband and son. Abel bowed his head in
frustration. As he looked at the floor, a glint of metal caught his eye from
under the mattress.  He knelt down on one knee to get a closer look. It was a
charm his mother often wore when she wanted to ‘look nice’ as she would say.
She said the jewelry livened up her clothes as well as her spirit. Abel would
always laugh, thinking nobody noticed anyway. But his father would notice. He
was the one who gave her the necklace. Abel grasped it in his hand and held it
tightly, as if it had the power to bring his parents back. He brought the charm
to his mouth and kissed it vowing his vengeance. “Mother, Father, I will not
rest until Xonox is brought to justice. You have my word.”