Thicker Than Blood (6 page)

Joe watched the sun set as he waited outside Kento's apartment building. He nervously watched a group of warmly dressed kids through the windshield of Lucy's van. They were in their late teens and twenties, drinking from bottles covered in paper bags. His eyes danced between the many multi- colored arrows displayed in his clarks. The triangular graphics were busy indicating where each individual was, their current direction, and speed. The arrows where all pointed straight down right now, but Joe was ready if they started to move. A new color arrow appeared pointing towards the young men. He turned his head to include it in his view. Kento opened the front door of his building, and walked straight towards the youths. One of the kids noticed his approach and alerted the others. Their arrows stirred like warming molecules. Kento also observed this and quickened his pace toward them. Joe blindly reached around the floor of the van for a weapon of some length or girth. He settled on a two foot socket extension jammed under a tool box. I haven't seen my aunt for my clot shot yet, I can't get hit, he told himself. "I hope Kento can handle this," Joe confessed to no one. Joe stood up and opened the door in one swift movement. He looked up as his left foot hit the ground. Kento was walking toward him, backwards. "Okay, thanks. I owe you." Kento was talking to the unruly mob. The kids found this uproariously funny. Kento turned and strutted toward the van. Two of the larger young men waved. Joe sheepishly sat back down in the drivers seat. He tried to subtlety wedge the two foot socket extension behind his seat as Kento got in the van. Kento looked over and saw the weapon as he reached for his seat belt. "You thought I was going to fight them?" Kento looked amused.

"Well, yeah," Joe said reluctantly. "Those are guys from the neighborhood. I taught them everything they know." Kento observed his frazzled look. "You should come to Kempo too. With your speed you could be very dangerous." "It's not that simple." "It's no different than track. You're strong and coordinated, it should be a breeze." Joe thought about how much he ached from all the running at school. If he hadn't been a natural runner and athlete, he never could have succeeded at all. He wondered how much faster and stronger he would have been without his weakness. Joe hated being alive. "You always stepped up to fights, but you didn't finish them. Why do you hold back? You should be a natural." Joe shot Kento a look. He was obviously angry. Joe stuttered quietly, "I'll email Mark to be at the shop." Joe double tapped the LCD on his arm computer. The Cube desktop returned in the center of his vision and Joe turned the cube to the email side and began to type in the air. Kento sat in silence. He watched Joe out of the corner of his eye. In a few seconds Joe's rapid typing was complete. He tapped his computer screen once again, and without saying a word, started the van and drove away. Joe drove in silence for a few minutes, dwelling stone-faced on his misfortune. I should talk to Kento, Joe thought, it's not really his fault. Joe thought about what to say as he merged on the expressway. Kento interrupted his thoughts. "Joe I'm sorry, we're all different now. We are different people now, than we were then. I was cocky bastard back then, I have learned a lot." "Kento that's not it. I'm different." Joe hung his head. "You always seemed like a normal guy to me," Kento said smiling. "I have a condition." Joe held his arm out to Kento, his medical wrist band dangling. "What? You?" Kento asked. Kento did not seem to understand that the medical bracelet was meant for him to read. Joe's eyes darted to the side of the road. His arm slowly reached back for the steering wheel. Kento squinted at Joe. He looked confused. An old, pale blue, Toyota was parked on the side of the expressway. It's parking lights where on, and flames here flickering out of the open hood.

Two men looked scared and where yelling at each other. A dark skinned man without a jacket lay a few feet away, cushioned only by decaying leaves. He looked unconscious. Joe's mind flashed back to his accident. "We're stopping," he asserted. Joe checked the rear view mirror. He mashed the brakes to pull over in time. "Joe, I don't know if that's a good idea." "Call the cops," Joe said. Joe didn't know if Kento had a phone, but he hoped so. He brought the van to a halt, and put it in park. "At least back up fifty feet away so we can escape." Kento was nodding, eyebrows raised. Joe looked at Kento with confusion. He realized he hadn't even considered it could be a trap. He backed the van up some distance. He tried to calculate the situation as he drove. No, he answered himself, we have to help in case it's real. His view of jacket-less man was blocked by the burning car, but he could still see him in his mind. He slammed the gearshift into park again. Grabbing the keys, he jogged toward the men. He heard the two men yelling as they approached. "If your car wasn't such a piece of shit, I wouldn't need my phone," The first man yelled at the second. The second man, red in the face yelled back, "You forgot your phone! You need to run for help!" "He'll be dead if we don't find his pills!" the first man yelled. "What happened?" Kento yelled as he caught up. "We think he's having a heart attack," the first man said. "The car caught fire he grabbed his chest and fell over." Kento looked at the second man. "Wave a car down. I don't have a working phone." Kento pointed at the first man. "You, find his pills." Joe walked over to the injured man. The man on the ground was in his late thirties and fit. That's strange, he thought, he looks too young. He crouched over the man and held his hand over his mouth. "He's still breathing." The man opened his eyes. Joe saw him swing his arm up to grab his shoulder. He rolled backwards over his shoulder and stood up as the man jumped to his feet. "Still quick." Kento was grinning.

"You ain't given me no C.P.R," The dead man said to Joe. He had a deep Spanish accent. "Give me the key to your ride." Joe's heart was beating hard now as he crab-walked for a better position. He assessed the other two men. They where of moderate build, in poor shape, and unarmed. Kento stood straight and calm giving nothing away. He was about two feet away from to the pill man. Joe smiled, they didn't have a chance. "You and what army?" Joe grumbled. Joe heard a loud whistle and turned his head toward it. Six figures appeared at the top of the nearby bridge hill. They were all larger than the other men. "That army," the dead man bragged, grinning. He threw his fist at Joe. Joe easily leaned back avoiding the telegraphed fist. Everything was moving in slow motion to him. He saw Kento out the corner of his eye. The pill man lunged at Kento. Kento moved aside and used his hip to pivot the man head first into the car's bumper. Joe saw movement out of his left eye. The man must be throwing a second punch, he thought. As he swung his body the other way to avoid it. He felt time slow even more. The adrenal gland in the top of his spine began pumping out chemicals. He felt fury overcome him, as the adrenaline charged through his veins down his back and arms. The tiny hairs all over his body stood on end. He was pissed. Really pissed. I won't die because I tried to help you. He moon-leaped backwards a step, to dodge the dumb swing from the dead man. He saw the phone man change direction and hurtle towards Kento. The phone man wasn't even looking at Kento as he lunged. He was too busy looking at his newly unconscious comrade. The dead man reached out some distance to hit Joe. Joe spotted the movement and his attention snapped back. A wicked smile came across his face. He hunched down and spun on his right foot, swinging his left foot through the air. Joe's leg seemed to glide fully extended just above the ground. His foot pulled up and arched through the air. The heel of his left boot stuck the man in the temple. He felt the dead mans head give as his roundhouse kick made contact. His momentum wasn't significantly slowed by the man's skull, so he pumped his left leg inward to accelerate his rotation, and lifted his right leg into the air. He pulled his right boot up just in time to strike the mans head again. Blood spattered out the mans mouth and they fell to the ground. Joe broke his fall with his bare hand on a patch of grass. He felt the pressure as his hands absorbed his full momentum. He cleared the man and landed beside him. He pushed himself up onto his feet and looked around. The men were running down the bridge hill in slow motion. They were mainly looking in Kento's direction as they ran, the puffy arms of their winter jackets swinging. Several of them had knives and threaded pipes brought to bare. Joe turned towards Kento, and saw the phone man lying on top of the body of the pill man. His smile turned crooked as he imagined the second man falling for exactly the same hip throw into the bumper. Scanning the car, he saw something through the open door. A bat tucked under the drivers seat of the burning car. I'm not ready to die, he thought. He ran for the bat. Joe hopped over the body of the dead man and sprinted as only he could toward the side of the little blue car. He reached in and grabbed the bat. He spun to see the men closing in on the calm Kento. Joe reached his right hand across his shoulder and single tapped his computer switching his clarks to human vector mode. Meaningful arrows appeared pointed this way and that. An arrow pointed straight down by the dead man. He wasn't getting up. Joe swiftly crab-walked around the mob now stabbing and swinging at Kento. He swung the aluminum bat full force at the biggest mans head. The man's head gave but he didn't stumble. He swung around wielding a knife and bleeding from the ear. He started at Joe. Joe backed away easily keeping the distance. Several men swung and stabbed at Joe trying to circle him. He was quicker, backing off and maintaining a bubble with his bat. One of the men swung at Joe with a pipe. He felt it tickle his rib through his leather jacket. His mortality came back to him. A single bruise could immobilize him for a week. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off. He scoped a clear path back towards the bridge hill. I have to get some distance, he thought, I'm going to get hit again. Joe took a swing towards the man closest to the road and forced him back. He sidestepped to his left and ran back towards the hill. Joe looked at Kento dodging and weaving his assailants. One of the three new challengers was laying motionless on the grass. The other two looked tired and moved very slowly. Joe heard a horrible noise. A series of rhythmic tire screeches and thump57 ing. He turned to ruckus as he ran to see an eighteen wheeler screeching to a halt on the opposite side of the road. Two cars leaned on their horns as they screeched around the huge truck at the last second. The truck bounced one final time as the door swung open. A large hairy man hung out the door wielding a shotgun. The man yelled in an ear-busting crescendo. "What the hell is going on here?" He pumped the shotgun, aimed it in air, and let one shot ring. Joe was dumbfounded. He stopped running and turned to see the distance he had put between him and his attackers. They had stopped running and turned as well. Looks like they don't know what to do, he thought. Neither do I. "Let's go man," one of the men yelled. He turned and ran. "Cummon lets get out of here. He's crazy man." Another man ran toward the trees. "We're gone man." Another turned and ran for the far side of the hill. The trucker calmly surveyed the fleeing assailants from the perch of his trucks cab. Joe looked at Kento and Kento shrugged. Joe and Kento walked back toward the van. Stepping over the unconscious bodies of their fallen enemies. Joe looked back to the trucker to yell in thanks and saw him close his door, apparently satisfied. Joe yelled, "Thank you." The trucker was already pulling back into traffic. He didn't seem to hear. Joe grabbed Lucy's keys from his pocket and then noticed gravel indents in his hands from his fall. His hands did not bruise this time. Joe pulled his shirt up as he walked he looked at the rib that was grazed by the pipe. No bruise there either. Joe sighed as he opened the van's driver side door. Joe looked at Kento as he closed his door. "I thought you had a cell phone. I was crazy to rush in there." "Are you all right? You were great back there. We had them dead to rights." Kento smiled. "It was stupid. I got mad. Stopped thinking." He started the van. "You had total control. You had them running in circles." "I could have been killed," Joe said distracted. He was anxious to get away from the scene. Joe put the van in gear and inched up to merge into traffic. He looked over his shoulder, then looked Kento right in the eye. "I'm a hemophiliac. We probably should have just called the cops." Joe started pulling away. "I did," Kento said. He was looking at Joe.

He pulled a cheap looking cell phone from his pocket. An automated message was clearly audible in the quiet van. The phone droned, "Do not hang up, someone will be with you momentarily." "It was on the whole time. They never came."

Mark tried, and failed, to comprehend other people's competitive drives. Re- writing the small driver to read the newest type of gyroscopes was not about self image or pride for Mark. He programmed, to expand his understanding of accomplishment, not for the accomplishment itself. Doing whatever it took had always seemed a bit barbaric to Mark. He had led a life of shelter and moral privilege, and desired to continue it as long as he could. Mark's mind began to wander off his task. He much preferred the smell of incense over machine oil. The stew of synthetic chemicals seemed to pull him from inner peace. He loved his work with the A-team, but he did it for the worldly experience and money, not for emotional stimulation. Mark dwell ed on his childhood vacations in India. His family could create a whole other world. Mark would use that world to escape, and learn about himself. When did Amman start trying to beat me, Mark thought. When did I indicate to him that I would crush, insult, degrade, or otherwise ostracize him if I activate the nanites first. Perhaps Joe is right, Mark thought. What hell keeps a man focused for three days straight? Mark glanced over at Amman's now scraggy beard. He was hunched over his borrowed computer terminal and several pads of paper. Mark wanted to contribute more to the process, but every time he tried to cooperate with Amman he grew impatient. I need to get another one of those microscopes, Mark thought. He wished his cousin would rest and give him a shot at cracking the nanites. With his brain sufficiently relaxed from his mental break, Mark walked to the cyborg's naked base. The base consisted of two tank style treads and a mess of wires, batteries, and motors. He flipped a switch in the mess of wires and the base sprung to life. It wiggled left, right and left again to indicate that all is well. Mark walked behind his bench and typed a command at a strange blinking prompt on his screen. The base began traveling around a blocked off area in a seemingly random fashion. A pair of numbers smaller than one printed on the screen with each turn. As the routine drew to an end, Mark felt his spirit lift. He had done it. Two gyroscopes down, one hydraulic to go. Mark couldn't hold back the grin. Joe and a strange skinny man burst in the door. Mark felt the cold draft as the wind swung the door shut. So this must be the chip guy, Mark thought. "Joe, I see you have brought the man with the power," Mark said in a silly voice. Mark shu?ed to the door, hoping distance would hide his excitement from Amman. "Mark, meet Kento." "Nice to meet you." Kento spoke as if on a job interview. He reached out to shake Mark's hand. Mark shook his hand. He seems well adjusted, Mark thought. He seems confident. If there were such as thing a chi, he'd be brewing with it. "Joe, I've got the gyroscopes programmed." Mark felt the grin returning to his face. "You have to see this." Joe ignored Mark's invitation. He started walking toward his work bench. The smile fell off Mark's face. Would Joe obsess over the nanites as well? Would Kento? Mark didn't think he could cope with any more competitive people. My feelings are distracting me. My emotional damage control is already at full throttle, Mark thought. Joe stopped and looked Mark in the eye. "We were attacked," Joe said. "Holy crap!" Mark exclaimed. "Again? It's getting crazy out there. People are so desperate. What the hell do they do with all that money they steal from us?" What was I thinking, Mark asked himself. Joe doesn't want to beat me. I must be losing perspective. Mark heard a clang as Amman got up, staring at them. He walked toward the group. Mark felt embarrassed. He had let his own emotional peril derail his concern for Joe. "Are you okay?" Amman sounded concerned. "Yeah," Joe mumbled. Kento shook his head, "I called the police, but they never came."