No Flesh Shall Be Spared (19 page)

For a few minutes he walked and did nothing but look at the sky and let his mind clear. Breathing in through his nose and out his mouth helped aerate his brain and calm his jangled nerves. He was nearly halfway to the range when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of some movement off to his left; at the top of one of the hills that butted up against one side of the range. He tried to focus on it, but given the distance, couldn’t see much of anything. Whatever it was, it was low to the ground and looked like a pile of large stones. He was about to dismiss it as nothing more than a trick of the light, but then saw it move again. Almost instantly his curiosity was piqued.

Without giving it too much thought, he decided to wander in that general direction if only to satisfy his own inquisitiveness. Besides, it wasn’t as if he had anything else to do much less anywhere to go. After a few more minutes of walking in that direction, he was finally able to make out that the pile of rocks he’d seen was in reality a slight figure sitting under one of the Wisteria trees planted at the crest of the hill. His interest now fully engaged, he thought he’d forego the visit to the range and just see who felt he needed that kind of privacy.

He made his way toward the rise at the base of the hill and did his best to keep out of sight. He figured he’d get a look-see at whoever it was up here and, if it proved to be someone of no interest to him, make his way back down and then head back to the Firing Range. As he climbed, his hamstrings again cried out in pain and resisted the call to strenuous exercise. After everything they’d already been through during the day’s training, the last thing his muscles seemed to want was a round of hill-climbing. Setting his resolve, he pushed past the discomfort and his muscles soon relaxed, making the climb easier.

About midway up the hill, his calf got tight and gave the first indications of cramping up. Pausing to flex it out, he turned and looked back toward the compound. He knew that the place was big, but now it was obvious that it was a lot bigger than he’d initially surmised. He’d known that there were wide fields separating the large, squat buildings, but now he could see the extent of the Compound’s acreage. Cleese could see what looked like miles of cyclone fence running around the vast complex. He squinted and was able to make out a thin line of electrical wire threaded through the diamond-shaped spaces of the chainlink. Above the fencing, razor wire twinkled in the diminishing sunlight. Beyond the formidable fencing, there was nothing but mile after mile of empty countryside.

He turned and looked back up to the top of the hill. He still had a ways to go, so he lowered his head and returned his attention to the laborious climb to the top of the hill. His efforts soon brought him to the crest and put him just to the right of where the mysterious figure sat like a Buddhist monk: legs crossed, hands lying loosely in his lap.

He continued on, moving quietly.

By now he’d gotten to within a dozen or so yards away and was able to ascertain that the figure in the shadows of the Wisteria was that of a woman. He could see that her build was smaller than that of a man and her posture was nearly perfect; back straight, head held high yet relaxed. Most of the men here moved like apes, but she had an air about her that was almost angelic. She seemed to take up a hundred percent of the space she occupied. Her body exuded diametrically opposed energies: totally peaceful harmony and complete deadly menace. Even though she was relaxed and off-guard, her body gave the impression that with the proper motivation all that could change… and that change would be very dangerous indeed.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out this woman’s identity: Chikara.

Surreptitiously, he’d learned as much as he could about Chikara as soon as it was possible. After hearing the stories, he’d sneaked off whenever he could and viewed her tapes. The more he saw, the more he was interested in her, her Warriors, and her unique fighting style. He’d never met a woman who could hold her own in a full-on fight, but this one… This one was different. Much like Monk, she’d taken what Life had given her and turned it into something undeniable. This was a woman who did what few others could.

She kicked ass and took names.

And when the asses got kicked and the names had been taken the end result usually meant a lot of bodies hitting the floor.

Cleese remembered one specific tape he’d seen. It was late in her match and she was obviously tired. Covered in blood and bits of meat, she’d stood quietly and allowed herself to be surrounded by a group of UDs. She’d batted their advances aside when necessary, but for the most part she simply let them get inside her strike zone. After giving the television audience their fair share of anticipation and dread, it became clear by the change in her expression that she’d had enough. Then in a blur of punches, kicks and whirling swordplay, she’d dispatched them all in seconds. One moment she was surrounded and things were looking grim, the next it appeared as if someone had turned on a blood sprinkler. She literally became a whirling dervish of death. When things finally settled down, there she was, panting from the exertion, standing over a pile of bodies and grinning like a demon from Hell.

It was, to say the least, impressive.

It was also, at least in Cleese’s opinion, sexy as hell.

From afar he took a moment to look at her, quietly cataloging her appearance. She was pretty beneath all of that bluster and violent retribution. She wore her hair short and kind of spiky which was something that a lot of fighters did. The UDs could sometimes entangle their clawing hands in a combatant’s hair and that could create some major problems. It was just easier to keep a short haircut. Even Cleese, who wore his hair long, kept it tied back tight to his head in a ponytail.

From this distance, he noted how well-defined and leanly muscled her upper body was: firm musculature having been augmented by exceedingly low body fat. In the dying light, Cleese saw the thick cabling of her vascularity as it accented each individual muscle group. There was no denying that this was a beautiful and powerful woman. Silently, he wondered how she’d do in a sparring match both in the Pit and in bed. He made a mental note to try to find out should either opportunity ever present itself.

"Do you often sneak up on people and stare at them, Cleese?" Chikara asked abruptly, eyes still closed. Her voice almost tinkled on the blossoming night’s crisp air.

"No. I…uh…" he stammered and then chuckled. "I apologize. I was just out walking…"

She slowly opened her eyes and languidly turned her face to meet his.

Cleese hesitantly walked the rest of the way over to where she was sitting.

"I hope I’m not interrupting," he said. As he got closer, he noticed that this woman was a lot prettier than he’d initially thought. Her bone structure was sharp and her mouth wide. Her lips were full and generous. He looked down and met her gaze. He was brought up short when his gaze finally came to a rest on her eyes. They say that the eyes are the window to a person’s soul. These were dark piercing orbs that sent a cold chill down your spine. They were eyes that had seen a great deal of loss and endured unfathomable amounts of suffering.

Cleese felt that adversity tempered the spirit. Nietzsche said, "That which does not kill you, makes you stronger." If that were true, then this woman was carbon steel.

"Well," she responded, "I was in the middle of my meditation. However, I have been meaning to talk to you."

"Oh?" he asked and he cocked an eyebrow. He’d been trying to keep a discreet eye on Chikara and her Budo Warriors since he’d first arrived. He had no idea that the fascination had been mutual.

"I have. Here…" and she patted the grass next to her, "sit with me."

Cleese made his way over and sat down heavily. Despite his best efforts to the contrary he groaned as his quadriceps screamed out in their distress. After a bit of painful adjustment he settled in and made himself comfortable. All the while, he never noticed the smirk that slid across Chikara’s lips.

"Sore?" she asked, looking away to hide her still grinning face.

"Ha-ha…" he said wincing. "I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. Twice."

Smiling fully, her eyes returned to the tableau before her.

Cleese took a moment to drink in the view from this vantage point and was amazed. It was stunning the way the final orange and purple rays of the sun slashed across the sky and threw long, skeletal shadows upon the fields of manicured green. He was surprised it had taken him this long to find the place.

"Wow," Cleese said with a sigh as he got himself comfortable, "this is a nice little spot you have here."

"It is preferable to the last place I used which was next to the Holding Pen," Chikara said, her voice ringing out sweetly in the air.

Cleese looked at her and realized that this was the first time he’d caught her smiling.

"I’ll bet," he said. Then after a moment, "So… What did you want to talk to me about?"

Chikara drew her index finer around her right ear where two piercings twinkled in the light, and pulled the short bristly hairs back behind her ear. The movement made Cleese’s pants feel funny; funny in a way that they’d not felt in a very long time.

"We have been watching you, Cleese," Chikara began.

Cleese involuntarily raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"So far, we like what we see," she said finishing he thought.

"We?"

"Yes, we…"

"I’m flattered."

"You should not be," she said with a slight sniff. "We—and by ‘we’ I mean the Budo Warriors—have been watching you since you first arrived. In fact, it was one of my Warriors who first brought you to Masterson’s attention."

"Hmmm… so, I have you to thank for this little adventure."

"In a way, I guess… Yes. We heard about you and thought you would do well here. Now that we have seen the genuine article, it is evident that we were correct in that assumption.

"Hmm… well, thank you," he responded. "I’m guessing there’s more…"

Chikara smiled again and turned to look him in the eye.

"We were hoping you would join us."

"Join you? Join the Budo Warriors?"

Chikara nodded and looked off serenely into the distance as if, her request now made, she’d returned to a peaceful place in her mind while she awaited her answer.

Cleese stared at her for a long time as he pondered the real meaning of what had been said. He was honored. Hell, who wouldn’t be? Still… Cleese had never exactly been a "team player" and the idea of joining the ranks of any organization—no matter how loosely compiled or prestigious—sat like a turd at the back of his throat.

"Well…" he said, "while I am honored at the invitation, I’m not so sure that would be a good idea. I’m not exactly someone who is able to tow a line, you know? And in case you haven’t noticed, you tow a pretty stern line."

Chikara grinned and nodded. Cleese found that, despite himself, he respected this woman. She’d no doubt suffered a lot in order to bring her to where she was today, fought her way through competition and adversaries alike and had come out on top. In many ways she was a lot like the other fighters that were here, but in other ways—more important to Cleese’s way of thinking—she was quite different. She gave off an air of great strength and yet there was a deep compassion and sensitivity evident in her.

"Somehow," she said finally, "I knew you would say just that."

Cleese smiled and leaned back against the tree.

"Well, I aim to please."

The two of them sat quietly as the sun slid below the horizon. Cleese periodically looked over at Chikara and was amazed that she’d returned to her meditation, effectively shutting him out. He took the time to look her over once more. Sitting this close he noticed some small ragged scars across her upper arms and neck. He leaned in just a bit closer and saw that they were several matching sets of four scratches; one scratch for each of what must have been a UD’s jagged fingernails.

He figured that the scratches were a result of the way Chikara got in so close during her matches. A fighter couldn’t let that sort of shit happen as much as she did and walk away unmarked. Luckily, no one had ever become infected as a result of a scratch or two.

No, for that, it took a bite.

"You are staring…" Chikara said with a slight smile, eyes still closed.

Cleese was yanked out of his reverie and realized that he had been staring—pie-eyed and open-mouthed—just a couple of feet away from this woman. He felt his cheeks grow suddenly hot and flushed.

"Oh… uh… sorry," he apologized.

Chikara smiled and seemed to rise like a marionette; her strings lifting her effortlessly to her feet.

"Come. We should get back." Then, "I would like it if we were able to talk more sometime later."

Cleese smiled and nodded.

"I’d like that as well," he replied and, with another groan, he got stiffly back to his feet.

"Well, good," and she graced him with another one of those smiles.

"Jesus…" he said with a wince once he’d gotten fully to his feet. He bent his back and it made another painful cracking sound. "I feel like shit."

"Lactic acid has built up in your muscles as a result of all of this exercise. It is just making them stiff. An interesting side note for you… lactic acid is very similar in chemical composition to something found in the UD’s metabolism—something called Sarcolactic Acid. In The Dead, Sarcolactic Acid or Paralactic Acid is the chemical that causes Rigor Mortis. So, in essence, what you are feeling right now is nothing more than ante-mortem rigor. Stop by my crib later and I can give you an herbal tea that will ease some of the pain a bit."

"Man, lookit you…"

Chikara laughed aloud, her laughter sounding light and almost care-free on the evening air. She looked up at him and, after a moment, looked away. In the diminishing light of the day, the blush that flushed her cheeks went unnoticed.

"Well," she said, "I, too, aim to please."

As they made their way down the hill and across the grass, Cleese stared at her for a long time. Again, something primal stirred deep within his belly. It’d been a long time since a woman made him feel the way Chikara did; too long. As he smiled to himself, he decided that he liked this feeling and wanted to explore it further.