Age of Power 1: Legacy (6 page)

Brand struggled
back to his feet for a moment,
then
he cried out with
pain from a punch to his back.
He was shoved down to the
floor by the guy who gave the order to grab me
. After he hit him,
Brand’s attacker said, “Do what’s smart kid. Just let shit happen and you both
might get out alive.”

Gritting my
teeth—to keep them from chattering—I managed to say, “What the fuck? Who in the
hell are you bastards? Let us go! We didn’t do anything to you!”

I looked him
over. Bigger than the rest, I guessed he was their leader, if only because of
that bulk. He yanked us to our feet and forced us back against the counter. He
leaned in. I pulled away out of reflex, as his breath reeked of beer. He had
deep-set blue eyes and his long red hair—wild and flowing down to his
shoulders—made him look like a mad Viking from a bad fantasy movie.

He said, “You
boys came along at the right time. We were looking for a little tension relief.
Guess you volunteered. Scream all you want. This little dot on the map is so
empty we won’t be disturbed.”

He reached past
us, and with a casual pull, yanked out the big sledgehammer and brought it down
between us. Red Hair said, “Come on, boys, let’s have some fun before that damn
mountain hits!”

I didn’t even
think about what I did next; I kicked one of the men closing in on us. He
bellowed when I hit his knee and he fell into Red Hair. I took the chance and
scrambled toward the front, intent on breaking the front window to yell for
help.

Someone grabbed
me and yanked me back. Struggling, I screamed with rage and raw fear. It didn’t
do a bit of good. Shoving me down one of Red Hair's gang knocked me down to the
floor next to Brand again. The lead slime ball laughed. Then, with the hammer
in hand, he came toward me. “Boy, you are in for a world of pain. The prison
psychiatrist told me I needed to work out my aggressions. Guess this is where
that happens!”

“Oh wonderful,
cons…” I muttered. Great, we were in deeper trouble than I thought. I finally
caught on that Red Hair was wearing an orange prison top.

Red Hair
chuckled. “No shit kid. Now…boys, let’s get some tension relief before taking
care of some old business I have here.”

Before I could
react to that, Red Hair grabbed me, shoving me up against a counter. Three
other men were doing the same to Brand. He yelled out. “No! Let us go, you
bastards!”

The escaped
convicts laughed, all of them grabbing up tools to use as weapons. But before
anything else could happen, the front window shattered into a million pieces as
a brick flew through it to land on the tile floor with a bounce. Red hair
yelled, “What in the hell?”

I looked and saw
Alex Shaw—still in that black trench coat of his—standing in front of the
store, with one hand holding a brick while the other hand stayed hidden in the
front pocket of his coat.

I said, “Huh.
Prayer answered. Cool.”

Brand yelled,
“Shaw! Get help! Run!” Alex didn't react. He stood there, glaring at the
convicts. He was daring them to do something.

Red Hair let me
go with a shove and said, “Oh great! Now we have the kid cavalry coming to
rescue his friends! Hot damn boys, this little hometown of mine left
three little punks to hurt!”

Alex said
nothing. He kept his eyes on the leader of the pack. I noticed that he had an
expression of sadness on his face. It seemed as if he were judging Red Hair in
some bizarre way.

As Red Hair
started toward him, Alex said, “Don’t bother, you won’t be able to get away
with holding all three of us. You won’t even get past the window.”

With a sneer,
the convict hefted the sledgehammer and said, “Really? Do you think you’re that
good punk? I’ll ram this down your throat once we have you!”

Alex said, “No.
I already told you. You won’t make it past the window.”

“Fuck you!”
Lifting the hammer Red Hair started after Alex.

He had only
gotten to the window when he pulled back with a grunt of pain. I saw Alex whip
his arm out, and that was it. Something smacked hard off the man’s head,
falling among the smashed glass on the floor. It was the other brick. Blood was
on it. I noticed that it complemented the lighter color of the brick.
Throughout all of this, not one convict spoke as their leader fell to his
knees, then onto his back. His face
was covered
with
blood from his now smashed-in nose. His eyes just stared, lifeless.

“You little
bastard!” the skinhead holding Brand yelled. Shoving Brand away, he rushed
forward toward Alex, ready to kill. Then, he lurched to a stop when sirens
began to fill the air.

Alex pulled a
cell phone from his jacket pocket.

He held up a
forefinger and said, “One; this may be a small town, but we still have police.”

He raised another
finger, “Two; the phones still work.”

Then, he pointed
down at Red Hair and said, “And three; he was warned.”

Alex met my
eyes. I didn’t know what to say. His voice was hard and flat, and from the way
he was standing, I knew that he hadn’t just killed in self-defense. No, he
had chosen to kill. All the years of thinking he was just putting on
an act of being hard and edgy fell away. The mask was off, the real mask. When
it came down to it, Alex really was hard-core.

But I didn’t
have time to think much about it. Cop cars came screeching to a stop in front
of the store. Reacting with panic, the convicts turned to run out the back.
They made it only so far before police rushed in to stop them.

Yelling filled
the store while I crouched, hoping I wouldn’t catch a bullet. But no guns
fired. After a more few minutes, I heard someone calling my name. Slowly,
I looked and saw convicts pushed down on their stomachs with cops cuffing them.
I saw a cop helping Brand to his feet. Another officer reached out a hand to
help me. Getting to my feet, I looked up and saw a man coming in from the front
window.

The man looked
down at the convicts and snarled. He sounded disgusted as he said, “Get these
sons of bitches out of here.”

Police Chief
Michael Sinclair was a tall man with reddish hair styled in a military cut. He
had the same ice blue eyes as Brand. His build wasn’t the biggest, but there
was this feeling of hard authority that just existed wherever he went. Maybe it
was the way he stood, calm, confident, yet coiled and ready to strike. I was so
glad to see him and his police force.

Coming farther
in, he stopped at the body of Red Hair. He bent to look at him for a moment and
sighed, “James Jessup. Well, he promised he’d be back. Damn bastard…”

The police
gently guided us outside, and soon Brand and I were both in an ambulance. After
some pokes, prods, and many questions, an elderly man in an older looking EMT
jacket told Sinclair that we were mainly just scared and shocked. Afterward,
sitting on the bumper of the ambulance, I looked over at Alex talking with
Sinclair.

From what I
overheard, Alex had been walking around town when he had seen us. He had been
about to call out to us when the convicts had yanked Brand into the store. By
the time he reached us, I had already gone into the store. Instead of being
stupid and coming into the store, as I had done, he called the cops. But things
were moving too fast for him to wait, so he had to make the decisions that he
did. They were very cold and hard decisions.

And he had saved
our lives. I met his eyes at one point and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

Alex looked at
me for a moment, and nodded slightly. Then he looked up, as did Chief Sinclair.
I looked over and smiled while both Brands and my parents came running up. For
the next few moments, we were too busy hugging our worried, but happy,
parents. I lost sight of Alex for a few minutes. But, as Mom and Dad talked
with Sinclair, I glimpsed him walking away, his hands in his trench coat
pockets. I hoped I’d see him one last time before the end.

CHAPTER THREE

And the Day came. Nothing more 
could be
said
 about it. When we awoke that morning, the world was as ready
as it was going to get. On the Day, the talk shows were quiet. The news stories
were of people making noble decisions to come together to settle their
differences. Leaders declared peace throughout the world, and governments and
armies laid down their arms. Governors were releasing criminals from prisons to
be with their families. People also married or divorced at the last minute, if
only to finish 
up things
 in their personal
lives. All these last minute announcements pushed more than one desk anchor to
suggest that this would be humanity’s finest hour.

I didn’t believe it.

If those escaped convicts hadn’t tried to kill me, I might have
felt different. But only two days had gone by, and I wasn’t ready to forgive
them. I wanted to hurt those convicts. I wanted those bastards hurt so bad that
my stomach twisted in knots just thinking about it. I was angry with not just
them, I was angry with Yama because it wouldn't let me hurt the convicts. Yeah,
no, I wasn't feeling very sane just then. 

Yama had already destroyed everything I had ever known. There
weren't going to be anymore musical groups, like 
Sick Puppies
, no
new comics would come out about 
Superman
, or 
Batman
,
or 
X-Men.
 There wouldn't even be any more thinking up of my
own stuff to write on the fan-fiction sites. I would never see the Chicago
University, or ride on the ‘L’ train again. Hell, I’d never have sex. That was
just wrong, damn it!

I turned off the television as Mom and Dad came into the room.
The announcement about the cookout had said that this was going to be a casual
affair. So I had just tossed on a pair of black and a t-shirt that said, ‘
The
Floggings Shall Continue 
Until
 Morale
Improves
.’ It felt fitting somehow. After all, my morale wasn’t going to
improve much. I knew that. Mom smiled a little at my choice of shirts, but said
nothing.

I was silent as we left the house and drove to the high school.
Mom looked at me in the rearview mirror, worried at my silence. At one point,
she started to say something, but Dad touched her on the arm and shook his
head. He might not have been living with us all these years, but he still knew
my moods. While I didn’t want to yell at them, I also knew that if anyone said
anything to me, I’d snap.

Heading into the parking lot, I looked at the building I had
come to almost every morning for nearly four years. Once, I’d wanted to get
through high school as quick as I could. I now wanted to find a way to do it
over—the cliques, the fights, the laughter, the parties, the dances. I didn’t
want all of it obliterated. I felt a lump in my throat thinking how nice it
would be to be bored silly in high school for one more day. But that wasn’t
going to happen.

Getting out of the car, I counted maybe three dozen cars in the
parking lot. Usually on a school day, cars and pickups would pack the lot full.
I shook my head, saddened by the whole scene. With a quiet sigh, I walked into
the school with Mom and Dad walking behind me. Just inside the front doors to
the school, the Biology class teacher, Mark Wells and his were wife were busy
setting up a large indoor grill inside the school’s front atrium. Gina Carter,
the Home Economics teacher was offering joking suggestions about getting it to
work. Past all this, I could see people milling about in the school cafeteria.
It looked as if we were the last to arrive.

I heard laughter and joking. I could see kids running around and
playing games. I didn’t have a clue as to why everyone was so damn cheerful. I
was getting tense and the rage started to boil. I wanted to yell how
stupid they were. 
Damn it!
 Didn’t they
realize we were just hours away from dying? I started to say that aloud when I
felt a hand on my arm. I glanced up and saw it was Brand.

He shook his head, and mouthed, “Don’t!”

Before I could give a retort, Brand went over to Mom and Dad,
offering to take their coats. My parents were with the others at the grill,
giving them cheerful advice of their own. They were distracted, so they simply
thanked him and handed them over. I was about to walk over there to make a
snide remark, but Brand didn’t give me a chance. He came up to me with a
knowing look in his eyes.

He said, “Don’t do it. Come with me—now.”

I ignored him and started to push past him when he stopped me by
grabbing my arm. Without another word, he pulled me along into the school.
There, I saw Jim and Karla talking with others. Before they noticed us, Brand
dragged me down the hallway. We were the only ones there. I started to say
something, but, again, Brand held up a hand and stopped me. He stopped at the
door to the teachers’ lounge and pulled it open.

Pointing at the room, he said, “Get the hell in there! We’re
talking!”

Inside the lounge, I saw that the room had a soda machine and a
snack machine along one wall. There was a long couch in the middle, and lounge
chairs were set on either side. Brand turned on the lights and tossed my
parents’ coats onto one of the chairs as he came in behind me.

Then turning to me, he said, “What the hell, man? You looked
like you were ready to lash out at everyone! What gives?”

I looked away from him, not saying anything for a moment. I
decided to let him get a taste of his own medicine. No, I couldn't do it. I
always had to say what I felt. I said, “Why aren’t you pissed? Those convicts
nearly killed us! And we’re going to die! You’re the one who’s always pissed!
So why ain’t you now?”

For a moment, Brand just looked at me, and then looked around
the room. I didn’t wait for him to talk. Instead I brushed past him as I said,
“Come on, the parents will start wondering.”

Brand said, “Because!”

I turned back to look at him. “Because…what? Is it because
we managed to escape 
being killed
 just in
time to die from an asteroid impact? Because there’s nothing we can do?
Come on! Say it! 
Talk, Houseman!
 Or are
you too scared?”

Brand snarled. I gave him a sour smile and said, “There’s the
asshole I know and love!”

Brand shook his head. He looked at me with consternation. He
wasn’t used to 
me
 being the angry one. That was fine; I wasn’t
used to him being the calm one. 
Weird.

He sighed. “Look, I know this isn’t easy. I mean, I saw what
happened down south. People freaked out. But it’s the final day; people are
either going to celebrate or go crazy in places like this all over the world.
We can’t do anything to stop it. 
And those cons?
 Those
losers are in jail! What do you think they’re doing? 
Those
assholes are stuck in a room by themselves
. They’re each in a ten-by-ten
square room with no windows! They will go insane worrying about what’s going on
until the very end.”

He grinned and said, “And that to me, makes for a fucking good
payback!”

“What the hell is good about it?” I snapped back at him.

Brand said, “You saw the sign out in front, right? Whoever put
it up is laughing. Why can’t you? It’s the way it is, man.”

I said, “Seriously? Come on! All this joking around is bull!
We’re going to die!”

Brand nodded. With a serene look, he said, “Yes, Vaughn, and
we’re going to die today. What, do you think that no one else has figured that
out by now? Come on, what’s really bugging you?”

I hesitated. I couldn’t say what I was thinking because it was
too ridiculous. But he wasn’t going to quit pushing me. So, finally, I said,
“It’s not fair. I…just…outside the hardware store, I thought how wrong all this
was. That it...”

Brand gestured, a half-smile on his lips. He said, “Come on…say
it.”

I looked out the windows for another moment before I finally
said, “It’s not fair.”

Brand gave a soft sigh before he answered. “Fairness stopped
being a problem for me on the day I said goodbye to my brother at his grave. I
knew life wasn’t fair when people said he had died while trying to run away
from his duty. So, yeah, now I’m just glad he isn’t here to have to see how…”

I looked at him when he stopped talking. I said, “He doesn’t
have to see how…what?”

He shrugged it off and came to join me at the door. “It doesn’t
matter. If God is real, or the afterlife, well, Kyle will see that he’s gonna
have lots of company.”

Brand walked past me into the hallway. On the way out, he said,
“Come on. The ‘rents will be wondering what’s up if we don’t go hang with them
for a bit.”

I stood at the door for a moment, watching him walk off. I said,
“You really think all that shit you just said is gonna make me less pissed?”

Brand just turned, walking backwards, and gave me one of his
usual cynical smiles. He said, “No. But just think on this for a moment; that
is a big ass asteroid about to kill us, not one of your comic book super
villains. It’s a rock; do you think it’s going to care about you being angry?
Or that people are laughing at it? Or that we feel sadness, or grief?”

I blinked and rocked back against the open door’s edge. I said,
“No.”

He shrugged and turned to walk down the hall.

I followed, slowly walking behind Brand but saying nothing
more. 
There wasn’t anything that needed saying.
 Walking
into the cafeteria, I put on a smile, forced as it was, and joined Mom and Dad.
They were talking to people I didn't know. That was to be expected. I couldn’t
be friends with every person in a town of fifteen thousand people. And the few
who had stayed hadn’t exactly done so in a mutual suicide pact…or
something. 
Hmm, bad thinking.
 I pushed down
the dark thought. I smiled when Brand looked at me and jerked his head to the
front.

I glanced back and saw the cooks put the first of the hamburgers
and hotdogs on the tables set just inside the cafeteria. The cooked food was
next to very small bags of potato chips and cookies I recognized from eating
lunch here over the years. The organizers had emptied the school kitchens in
town for this little ‘blowout.’ And I saw the sign. Even from the back, I could
make out the words. 
‘EXTREME COOKOUT!
 
TODAY ONLY!’

Gods…

Joining up with him, I whispered, “Guess even the looters
couldn’t stand school food.”

Brand nodded and pointed at the banner. I sighed, “I guess
that’s how we’ll go out. Not with a bang, not with a whimper…”

He said, “But with a horrible sense of humor!”

We both laughed, and the tension that had been hanging between
us fell away in my mind. I realized that if I was going to die, at least I was
with someone who was the closest thing to a brother that I would ever have.
Then Mom came over with Karla in tow. Mom was carrying a pack of cards. Smiling
mischievously, she said, “Come on boys. Let’s play a hand.”

My eyes widened out of reflex as I took a step back. 
Oh no.
 
Not on my last day.
 I
mean, yes, I wanted Mom there when it happened, but not with a bad hand of
bridge. I was horrible at the game. If we had to play a card game, I would
prefer to be playing 
Magic the Gathering
 during the last
moments of my life, 
not
 Bridge!

Karla saw my reaction and laughed. She said, “Oh let them go
have their own fun, Andrea.”

Smiling, I gave them a vigorous nod and walked away quickly. I
could hear their chuckles. Joining Brand, I went over and listened to Dad and
Jim talking about getting a quick game of football going. Oddly—given that he
liked the sport—Brand looked at me with his ‘I’m bored’ look, and pointed to
the hallway that led into the northwest wing of the school. Seeing other
teenagers, I found myself wanting to head that way myself.

Our dads were both busy discussing who to get involved in their
game. We quietly backed away and walked out of the cafeteria before they
started to look for us. Once we got out of there, we saw that the kids for the
most part were off in the hallways, talking about the stuff we liked to
talk 
about
. And while I had no problems with what
was going on in the cafeteria, the people there were mainly adults. And they
were talking about their adult interests. I needed someone around my own age.

Outside the Home Economics classroom, we ran into a group of
online gamers I knew. Talking with them was fun, especially when we got into
game and MMO talk. A couple of us talked about the last comics that 
had been published
.

After only a few minutes, though, Brand was bored silly. He’d
never gotten into the gaming or comic books the way I had. Unfortunately, there
weren’t many more people near our age around for him to hang out with; so after
talking a few more moments, we continued walking down the hall way. We turned
down a smaller hall to head towards the school gym. Inside, we saw some guys
and a couple girls setting up for a final session with guitars, drums, and a
fair number of instruments that, normally, just didn’t belong in a band. 
Tubas?
 No, thank you.