Fighting (3 page)

He
got on his knees. 

"Hands
behind your head," I yelled.  "Someone call the cops," I ordered
over my shoulder without taking my eyes off of him.  In my peripheral vision, I
saw the New Guy reach into the front pocket of his jacket and take out a cell
phone.

I
moved so that I was in front of the gunman, still a safe distance away, and the
door was in my sight.  I maintained eye contact with him and verbally thrashed
him in my mind with every curse word I knew in existence. 

I
was mad but not as furious as I'd expected to be in a situation like this.  I
was focusing more on the adrenaline still surging through my veins and the
elating sense of triumph I felt.  I just stopped an asshole from robbing the
store and endangering the lives of these innocent bystanders.  And, I somewhat
unhappily noted, I also felt that swelling sense of purpose that Brooks was
talking about. 

Damn
that man and his fancy words.

In
hindsight, I took a risk I probably shouldn't have, but in a split second
decision between standing back or doing something, I chose to do something.  I
knew Brooks would read heavily into that.

Movement
at the door drew my eyes, and wouldn't you know it?  Brooks stood there, still
outside but looking through the glass with a big fucking smile stretched across
his face.  Smug son of a bitch.

I
glared at Brooks and returned my eyes to my hostage before he got stupid and
decided to try and rush me again.  His hand twitched from behind his head.  I
shook my head and hummed my voice at him discouragingly.  He stilled his
movements.

Brooks
walked through the door and produced his own gun.  He flashed a badge at the
other customers and approached the thief. 

"Cross
your ankles," he told him calmly while pointing his gun at the thief who
failed at life. 

Still
on his knees and now having two guns aimed at him, he did what he was told. 
Brooks handed me his gun and took a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.  I
kept both guns aimed at the perp, which made me feel absurd.  Two guns? 
Really?  Overkill. 

But
a tiny part of me felt a little badass.   

Brooks
cuffed the thief and pushed him down flat to the ground on his stomach, making
sure his face was pointed toward us so he could see the guns that were still
aimed at him threateningly.  Brooks took his gun back from me and looked at me,
still wearing a pleasant
I told you so
smile.  I rolled my eyes at him
and he chuckled.  Holding a guy captive with a gun trained on him, he actually
chuckled
.

I
stared at the guy's cuffed hands and avoided looking at the customers or
Brooks.  I kept my breathing under control, replayed everything that happened,
and assessed the situation.  We all survived. 
Huzzah!
 

As
I was feeling that larger sense of purpose that Brooks insisted he knew I felt,
I was contemplating that while this was a very serious situation that could
have gone very wrong, my sense of adventure that I'd been neglecting was
fulfilled.  I felt kind of . . . satisfied.

We
stood like that for a few minutes in silence until sirens sounded in the
distance.

"Your
hands aren't even shaking," Brooks muttered.

I
flicked my eyes to his.  "What?"

"Your
hands," he repeated.  "They're not shaking.  You're calm and in
control."

I
sighed and said, "Fine, take me to your damn cabin in the woods, old
man."

"I'm
only thirty six," he said defensively, the smile never slipping from his
face.

"Like
I said."

The
sirens got louder, and Brooks looked toward the alleyway exit before saying
loud enough for the others to hear, "I'll check out the back exit."

He
left, and I knew that he wouldn't be back.  I didn't know what badge he flashed
earlier, but I figured that even though he could make the police believe he
worked for an official government agency, it was probably less of a headache to
just avoid them altogether. 

The
police came in and took over the situation.  I was only too happy to surrender
the gun I'd confiscated and went over the details of what happened several
times to different officers.  I was sweeping up the glass from the coffee pot
when a muttering voice caught my attention.  It was New Guy, and he basically
insinuated that I got very lucky.  And I was very aware that sure, luck was a
big part of what happened.  But it was just the way he said it, like he knew he
could have handled it better himself, that made my eyes narrow and my teeth
clench. 

Yeah, I'd like to see him try. 

I
shook my head and took a deep breath to expel my irritation and cleaned up the
rest of the glass, then I called Linda and she came over.  Eventually, they
cleared everyone out and I helped Linda close the shop before heading home.  I
was lost in my thoughts as I took the elevator up to my floor and entered my
apartment.  I locked myself in and walked by the living room and straight to my
bedroom to kick off my shoes.  Only I didn't get that far because I stopped in
my tracks and slowly walked backward to take a second look into my living room.

There
was a silhouette of a man sitting in the dark, facing me. 

Oh
God, that guy had a partner and he beat me home!  I was definitely going to get
shot now.  We stared at each other for a heart stopping moment and every muscle
in my body clenched and I tensed to make a run for it. 

And
then he said ominously, "You're all out of crackers."

"Brooks!"
I shouted in angry relief.  I marched over to the nearest light and flicked the
switch on, bathing him in light.  "You scared the shit out of me!"

He
was wearing a self-satisfied smile.  "I know."

I
narrowed my eyes on him and said in a flat voice, "There's something wrong
with you.  Some critical part of your psyche is missing.  I think you've taken
too many kicks to the head."  He chuckled and stood up from his seat. 
"What are you doing here? And why am I out of crackers?" I asked.  I
didn't even bother asking how he broke in.

"I
got hungry waiting for you to return.  And I came to prep you for your move to
the compound."

I
crossed my arms and decided I had some last minute concerns that needing seeing
to before I committed to anything.  Assuming he would answer me truthfully. 

"The
compound isn't really a cult of hippies who refuse to shower and plan on
sacrificing me to a god, or something?"  

"Nope."

"And
you're not going to brainwash me into becoming a mindless killing
machine?"

"No."

"And
you aren't planning on imprisoning me?"

He
shook his head.  "No."

"You
don't eat only wheat bread and tofu, do you?  'Cause that's a deal
breaker."

"We
love all breads, though it's true we don't eat a lot of it.  But you are your
own keeper.  Eat what you like."

Satisfied
I wouldn't be in imprisoned in food hell, I sighed and let my arms drop. 
"Fine.  When do we leave?" 

"Pack
a few bags tonight.  Everything you think you would need for the foreseeable
future.  Leave your furniture and food.  Bring clothes, books, laptops,
whatever.  I'll come over tomorrow mid-morning and you can follow me there in
your car.  You'll need to quit your job and your gym, but we'll take care of
setting up your rent so that it's paid for while you're with us.  You cannot
tell anyone where you're going, though.  Just say you need a change but you'll
be back around sometime."

I
could do that.  A trill of excitement was making itself known in my stomach.  I
was unsure exactly what to expect, but I was anticipating . . . something. 
Hopefully something good. 

I
fiddled with the radio as I followed Brooks down the long, curvy, winding back
roads of North Carolina.  There was nothing but trees around us.  Not even any
other cars passed us on the road.  I was guessing where we were headed was
pretty remote. 

Many,
many turns later, we slowed and turned onto a gravel road.  This road,
surprise, was also a long one.  Soon a four story cabin came into view.  Wow,
Brooks wasn't kidding.  It was huge.  I followed him around the building, to
the rear of the property where a smaller, second warehouse type building set. 
A garage door rolled opened and inside were two or three other cars.  We
parked, collected my three bags, and set off for the cabin. 

"What
do you think?" he asked.

"Secluded. 
But I don't see any fire pits where you hold your creepy rituals, so you're in
the clear, for now," I assessed.

Brooks
smiled and shook his head like he thought I was funny. 

I
followed him inside and stopped in my tracks.  It wasn't a cabin at all, not
really.  It was a four story building with a wooden exterior, yes, but on the
inside the structure had the touch of industrial efficiency, with sturdy white
walls and large open spaces.  The floor was wooden and everything was drenched
in warm tones that made the place seem downright homey.  I liked it
immediately.

I
caught up with Brooks at the corner of the hallway and we ventured up the
staircase and onto the second floor.  Some of the doors were open but most were
shut.  I looked around with curiosity until he stopped outside of a door and
turned to me.  I switched my roaming gaze from the ceiling to his face.

"This
is your room."

Inside
was a full sized bed, already made with white sheets, a deep green comforter
and pillows.  There was also a nightstand, a dresser, a table and another door
that led to a private bathroom.  I walked farther in and set my bag on the bed,
Brooks following suit.  The room was sized for an individual.  Practical but
roomy enough that I wouldn't feel suffocated.

The
bare walls were white, but it wasn't a brilliant, sterile white.  It reminded
me of the color of oatmeal.  The bathroom was relatively normal, about what you
would expect to find in a guest bathroom at someone's house.  The shower was
also a tub, which I was happy about.  I hated showers that were standing only. 
I wasn't one to luxuriate in hot baths all the time, but if this was going to
go how I expected fitness wise, I'd surely be filling that tub with ice soon. 

"Get
settled and I'll come get you in a few minutes for a tour."

"Sure,"
I said agreeably.

After
I unpacked most of my clothes (but kept an emergency stash prepared in a bag
for a quick exit) into the dresser drawers and stocked my toiletries in the
bathroom, I sat down on the bed and waited.  For about thirty seconds. 

I
stood up and opened the door, cautiously peeking out into the hallway.  Then I
straightened my spine and thought,
fuck it.
  I exited the room
completely and a small electronic keypad caught my attention.  It was attached
to the wall at about shoulder height to the left of the doorframe.  Curious.  I
didn't notice it the first time around. 

I
reached out to touch it and a hopeful, child-like voice said, "Are you my
new mommy?"

I
was visibly startled at the voice, not used to being caught unawares.  I turned
and saw a kid, a boy, just out of arm's reach.  He was looking at me with the
same curious expression I was just staring at the keypad with.   He looked like
he was maybe ten or eleven. 

I
didn't say anything because if I had opened my mouth, "What the
fuck?" would have come out.  What is it with children equating boobs with
motherhood?  Well, besides the obvious.

My
face must have related this because he chuckled and said in a slightly deeper
voice, "I'm just screwing with you."

Relieved,
I glanced back at the keypad.

"We
never use those.  They're for in the case of an emergency."  I raised my
eyebrows at him and he elaborated.  "The doors use two regular locks, one
doorknob and one deadbolt, for your sense of privacy.  But for actual safety,
the keypad activates steel bolts that shoot into the door to either lock
someone in or lock someone out.  It's not as easy to pick," he finished
lightly.

I
was now living in a secluded place that had steel bolts installed in the
doorframes for my "safety."  How stupid could I be?  I was so out of
my league here.

He
took a step closer and said, "Relax.  I've been here for two years, and
I've never seen them used before." 

We
stared at each other, taking each other in.   He was shorter than me, hitting
just above five feet.  His voice cracked here and there, like it was starting
to change with puberty.  He had shaggy, dark blond hair that looked like it was
transitioning to brown and vibrant green eyes.  Vibrant green eyes that were
staring at me patiently but expectantly, not unlike Brooks, and I realized I
should probably say something before he assumed I was mute.

"That's
reassuring," I said.

"Mmhmm,"
he mumbled.  "I'm Oliver."

"Alex."

"So,
you officially joining the Super Thieves?" he asked.

I
smirked and said, "On a trial basis." 

"How
old are you?" he asked.

"Twenty
one.  You're what, ten?"

"Twelve,"
he said indignantly.  "Almost thirteen," he tacked on. 

"You've
been here two years, already?"

He
nodded and said, "You're looking at the premiere badass of the
compound."

I
felt a smile form on my lips and my body relax.  I decided right then and there
that I liked this kid. 

He
glanced down the hall and said, "You've been given the tour?"

"Nope,"
I said, popping the sound on my lips.

He
nodded his head to follow him and we walked side by side down the hall as he
filled me in, pointing out various rooms as we passed them.

"This
is the second floor, where all of the bedrooms are.  The third floor is
dedicated to classrooms.  First floor is basically dedicated to the kitchen and
general living areas.  Two giant rooms take up the whole floor.  Lots of
couches and space.  Fourth floor is the gym type area and the studio.  Giant
room with mirrors covering the walls and lots of open space for combat training
or whatever."

"Where
are the other people?" I asked.

He
checked his watch and said, "It's after lunch time now, so they'll probably
be in the general education class.  Except for Ethan.  He's probably in the
studio."

"Actually,
I was supposed to wait on Brooks, so --"

"And
clearly you were intending to wait patiently on him to explore this
place," he said sarcastically.

Fine,
I thought, sucking it up.  I followed
him up the stairs and we didn't have to go far before I heard voices.  The
excited trill I felt in my stomach last night soured a bit with nerves.  He
approached a half-closed door and knocked before striding in. 

"Hey
Murphy, sorry I'm late but I found the new kid," he said, hooking his
thumb over his shoulder pointing at me.

We
entered the room and the voices immediately hushed.  My eyes skimmed over their
faces, taking in details and landing on Oliver as he spoke again.

"Everyone,
this is Alex.  She's the new kid Brooks was talking about.  Alex, this is
August," he said, pointing to a smiling, young, blonde haired girl who
looked a bit like a future model.  "She's fifteen."  He switched
focus to a guy closer to my age who flicked his chin up in acknowledgement.  He
had blond hair that was messy but not neglected.  "That's Spencer.  He's
seventeen."  He motioned to the teacher who looked to be approaching
thirty, and said, "That's Ryan Murphy, but we just call him Murphy."

"Hi,
Alex," Murphy said.  "Since you've graduated high school, you're not
required to take the general education classes, but you can if you want
to."

I
nodded and gave a non-committed, "Maybe."  Then I thought better of
it, because I may not have been the biggest optimist around, but I had already
decided to give the place a fair chance, and I was really going to try and put
forth an effort.  "But if I don't and you need someone to help demonstrate
something, I'll be your dummy," I volunteered breezily.

Murphy's
eyes lit, and he said, "That would be great!  I'll keep you in mind,"
he said. 

"I'll
be right back, I'm almost finished giving her the tour," Oliver said.

Murphy
nodded and I gave a polite but detached smile in the direction of the students,
only making eye contact with Spencer.  August was already looking back down at
her textbook. 

Oliver
took us down to the first floor and into the kitchen area.  I scanned the room
and few people that were inside, taking it in all at once.  The room was fairly
large.  Half of it was dedicated to a full and spacious kitchen with lots of
knick knacks and utensils sitting around.  It was a modern combination of
stainless steel and marble countertops, and everything else was warm toned
wooden cabinets.  There was a beautiful woman busying herself with cleaning up
the mess left over from lunch.  She had skin the color of cocoa and long,
flowing hair cascading down her back.  The other half of the room, the half I
was standing in, had two tables with benches on each side that had enough room
to fit four people comfortably.  Only one table was occupied and it was filled
with three adults.  Brooks, not surprisingly, was one of them.

"Alex,"
Brooks said, drawing the attention of the other people in the room.  They stood
up and walked over to meet us, including the woman at the counter.  "This
is Ben, the security technician, and Ross, the other physical trainer."  I
shook their hands and looked to the woman.  "And this is Gwen, the
chef."

"Nice
to meet you," I said.

They
nodded at me and Gwen asked, "Have you eaten anything?"

"Actually,
I haven't but you don't have to make me anything.  And I'm not starving.  Do
you have something I could just munch on?" I asked.

"Feel
free to roam the cabinets," she said.

"I'm
going to be tied up for the rest of the day with these two, but you're not
starting anything until tomorrow so wander around, get to know the place,"
Brooks suggested.

"Sure,"
I said easily. 

Oliver
and I went to the cabinets and both grabbed something quick to eat.  He went
back to his class and I took my time wandering the halls.  As I'd met everyone
already, and there were basically only two rooms on this floor, I went up to
the last floor and remembered that there was one more person I had yet to
meet. 

I
exited the stairwell to discover the floor was divided into two large rooms.  I
went to the left first and found the gym.  There were a few treadmills, weight
machines and other items you would typically find in a gym.  I backtracked and
went to the right.  There was a doorway right where I was and another at the
end of the hall that led to the same room.  There were no windows into the room
except for on the doors.  I peeked through one, and found a dude in there,
alone.  This was probably Ethan in the studio.

He
was working furiously at beating the shit out of a punching bag, punching and
kicking alternately and impressively.  Only watching him for a few seconds, I
could already tell he was more man than boy.  He looked the closest to my age
of anyone yet.  His dark brown hair was only a shade or two lighter than mine
and longer on top than it was in the back or sides.  Only in recent years did I
come to be a fan of a facial hair, and this guy had a beard that was a day or
two passed a five o'clock shadow, and it looked spectacular on his sharp jaw
line. 

Sweet
Jesus, Probably Ethan was ridiculously attractive.  But not in a pretty way. 
No, he was many things, but cute or pretty didn't cut it.  He was wearing long
black shorts and a black shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and bulging
muscles.  His chest and arms were well defined, and I'd bet money that his
stomach was toned as hell, too.  He wasn't overly muscled, like an oiled up
body builder (though he was shiny with sweat) but he wasn't a lightweight,
either.  He was bulky enough that you knew his was a fight you would not win
and lithe enough to still move gracefully.  

My
eyes were continually scanning his frame, watching his technique, so it took me
a second to notice that his movements slowed and almost stopped altogether.  I
looked at his head again and saw the back of his head instead of his profile.

Oh
shit, he was staring right at me in the mirror!   He caught me checking him
out.  This was really not good.  Now he would think I had some weird crush on
him, and I
hated
when someone thought I had feelings for them when I
didn't, especially strangers.  And I was going to have to live in the same
building as this guy!