The Right Path

  The Right Path

  by

  Debra L. Martin & David W. Small

  2010 Copyright © by Debra L Martin & David W Small

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  ***

  The sunset cast a surreal light over the city, hiding most of the visible scars and masking the violence that permeated daily life. Most, but not all. Partially collapsed and burnt-out husks, harsh reminders of the Great War, dotted the cityscape and no amount of darkness could hide devastation of that magnitude. It had all gone so wrong so quickly.

  The old man stood on the rooftop looking over the gray and ravaged city. He’d been looking for someone to carry on his work. So far he had failed.

  One mistake does not erase a lifetime of good, he thought miserably. I will find the right one.

  ***

  I looked up to see a hand extended towards me. I followed it up to the care-lined face of an elderly man. He was old, but I swear he shone with more life than someone half his age. I hesitated before accepting his outreached hand. I had accepted help before much to my chagrin. The humanity of people was all but gone, wiped away in the disgusting displays of greed and avarice that was pervasive in most aspects of life in this dismal city. In my fifteen years of life, I learned that it was a-dog-eat-dog world out there and only the strong survived.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” the old man said. “Only offering a helping hand.”

  “Why?”

  “Helping you is simply my way of helping me.”

  “What? That doesn’t make sense,” I said struggling to get my legs under me.

  “Take my hand and I’ll tell you about it.”

  With nothing to lose, I let the old man help me up. Today hadn’t started out the way I liked. I’d been beaten and robbed sometime in the last few hours. It was hard to tell how long I had lain in the street, because my head was a bloody mass of hurt. I half-heartedly brushed some of the dirt off my clothes and noticed a new rip in my pants at the knee. I hopped on my good leg trying to keep my balance while I looked for my crutch.

  “That’s mine over there,” I said, pointing to the crutch lying in a puddle of filthy water.

  “I have something better than that,” the old man said, turning and rooting around in the shopping cart he’d been pushing along the street.

  I took the rag out of my pocket and wiped the blood from the side of my face.

  “Here it is.” The old man turned back to me with a cane in his hand. It was gleaming wood with carvings along its length capped with a small silver-looking fist. I didn’t recognize any of the words or pictograms. Didn’t matter much, I figured I could sell it after the old man left me. Food was scarce and I’d hobble along this cursed city a lot better on a full stomach.

  “Thanks, but why are you giving this to me?” I asked, taking the cane from him. “What do you want?”

  The old man looked me up and down and laughed.

  “Boy, what’s a scrub like you possibly have that I’d want? Look at you, you’re a mess today.”

  “I don’t know. All I know is that everyone wants something. Nothing is free.”

  “You’ve already given me what I was looking for.”

  I took a step back, glancing left and right to see if this was a set-up for another beating.

  “Don’t get all riled now,” he said trying to calm me down. “I simply meant that you allowed me the chance to help you out, even if it was only to get you on your feet. That is enough.”

  “What are you talking about? You crazy or something?”

  “I’m talking about giving back, learning what it means to be truly alive. You can only experience life to its fullest by extending a helping hand.”

  “Yeah, sure and then watch as it gets bitten off,” I said, stuffing the rag back in my pocket.

  “Yes, sometimes that happens, but when a gesture of help is accepted for what it is, then you learn what life is all about and you can pass that learning on.”

  I rolled my eyes at the crazy old coot. He must have escaped from the psycho ward. From what I knew of people, they didn’t want a helping hand, they wanted what you had and you had better learn how to fight to keep what was yours. That’s what I’d learned of life in the streets.

  “Never heard that before,” I said.

  I looked at his cart crammed full of junk wondering how long it would be before someone hit him on the head and robbed him blind. They had robbed me for nothing more than the few scraps of food I had begged for earlier in the day.

  The old man gave me a sad grin, turned and began to push his cart down the street.

  “Wait, that’s it? You don’t want nothing for this cane?”

  “Nope, it’s yours. Use it well.”

  I watched him shuffle down the street. A little further along, he stopped and spoke to another drifter. Within moments, he shook his head, said a few more words, and kept moving down the street.

  The squeal of brakes caught my attention and made me look past the old man to the street corner. A girl was being tossed out of sleek black car. I should have turned and walked the other way leaving her to her own fate, but I have a perverse sense of curiosity. I watched in morbid fascination.

  The girl tumbled head over heels before coming to a painful stop on the uneven pavement. Her face looked bruised and her lip was bleeding.

  “Next time, don’t be so stupid. You’re lucky that’s all I did to you,” a man said from inside the car before it sped away.

  I saw her wipe her lip with her sleeve and stomp her foot in anger. I knew a system cop car when I saw it and I could only guess she had been trying to trade sex for food. From the looks of her, it didn’t look like she would eat tonight. Most men liked softness and curves and she was all angles and tomboy muscles.

  The old man approached her.

  “Can I help you up Miss?”

  The girl jumped to her feet, pulling a stubby knife from her waistband.

  “Stay away from me or I’ll slice you up good,” she said holding the knife up in front of her.

  For the second time today I heard the old man laugh. I found myself inching forward to hear what they were saying.

  “Don’t think you’ll be doing much slicing with that puny blade,” he said.

  It looked like she was having the same trust issues I had earlier. No one was nice for nothing in return. She took two steps closer and held the blade closer to him.

  “Want to try your luck, old man?”

  He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I only wanted to help you to your feet. No need to spill my blood over a kindness.”

  She hesitated before lowering the blade.

  “Kindness will get you killed old man.”

  “That may be so, but kindness can also change the world.”

  It was the girl’s turn to laugh. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard anyone laugh a full throaty laugh like that and I grinned in spite of myself.

  “You’re crazy. You’d best be careful who you try to help next time or you’ll feel a blade slice through your neck.” She turned on her heels and started to walk away from the old man.

  “Wait. I have something for you.”

  “Don’t want nothing from you,” she yelled ove
r her shoulder.

  “You might want this.”

  I was shocked to see the old man holding a wicked-looking knife in his hand. Where did he get this stuff? The girl had stopped and was looking at the old man. He pulled the knife out of its sheath. The blade shimmered in the light. It was so unexpected and she walked back to him. The old man pushed the knife back into the sheath and held it out to her.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My inner voice screamed that this couldn’t be good. No one ever gave anyone a break in this city and they certainly didn’t give away a valuable weapon without strings, but I couldn’t turn away and I watched in fascination.

  “What’s your game old man?” she asked.

  “No game, just want to help. Here, the blade is yours.”

  “What do you want for it? Sex?”

  “No, nothing, Miss. Thought you might need better protection, that’s all. Here, take it.”

  I inhaled sharply waiting to see what she would do. Her brows furrowed. In the next instant, she snatched the blade from the old man’s outstretched hand.

  “Good. Now you can take care of yourself,” he said. He gave her a wink before turning away pushing his cart full of odds and ends down the street.

  I was flabbergasted. The old man helped the little twerp, like he helped me. I began to wonder what he was up to. Maybe he was being nice cause he was playing some kind of twisted game and would come back later with others for payment of some kind.

  Be nice, smile, help them, and then crush them like bugs. Yep, that’s the way it is.

  Well, I was born on a weekend, but it wasn’t this weekend.

  I took one final glance and found myself staring into the little twerp’s eyes. She was sort of pretty with pale eyes and shoulder length brown hair, but I’d had enough trouble for one day, so I turned and hobbled away in the opposite direction. She would have to learn to survive like the rest of us. Beg, borrow or steal, that’s the motto on the street if you want to eat.

  The cane that the old man gave me actually helped with walking. Too bad I couldn’t keep it. A nice cane wouldn’t do me any good if I starved to death. I knew the exact pawnshop where I could get the most money for it. I crossed over the next street making my way towards the shopping district where there was a collection of shops dedicated to the buying and selling worthless crap. Once in awhile though they would stumble upon a diamond in the rough like this cane.

  It was early and the city was quiet. Only the street rats like myself were out trying to claim the best street corners in the city to beg for food. Today was turning out to be a good day and I wouldn’t have to beg for food. I figured the cane should be worth enough money to buy food for a couple of days and my stomach grumbled in reply.

  It must have been my daydreaming of a full stomach that caused me to miss them. I should have known better.

  “Well, lookie lookie boys,” came a taunting voice from the next alleyway. “This has got to be our lucky day.”

  I looked up to see the same gang that had left me bleeding in the gutter earlier. I groaned at my stupidity for not watching out where I was heading. This was not going to end pretty.

  “Whacha got there, boy?” the leader of the pack asked.

  “Nuttin’ you want,” I replied, trying to hide the fear in my voice. “You already got all my food. Leave me alone.”

  “Ah, poor little boy. Are you still cryin’ over that little beatin’ we gave you? Want your mommy, little boy?”

  I sped up my steps and tried to get past the alley.

  “Leave me alone, I ain’t got nothing.”

  It was damn hard to keep away from the roving gangs of bullies that seemed to occupy every inch of this city. It was impossible if you where a cripple.

  “Listen, crip,” the leader said, “give me that pretty lookin’ cane you got there and I might let you off easy. Maybe I’ll just rough up your good leg, so you’d have a matched set. Wouldn’t be needin’ that cane at all then.”

  His fellow gang members all laughed at the crude joke.

  Crippled or not, I tried to run for it. Tried is the relevant word here. The leader was still laughing when he stepped out from the alley in front of me. I tried to sidestep him, but another bully was standing next to the leader blocking my way. I looked behind me and saw that two other guys had blocked my retreat.

  “Looks like we got you surrounded, crip. Now whatcha going to do?”

  I glanced around and saw nowhere to run, not that I’d get very far with my bum leg. Suddenly from behind me came a high-pitched scream and the two creeps in the rear turned to look. It was enough of a distraction for me to bolt down the alley that the thugs had come from. Taking off, I looked left and saw the little girl twerp I had watched earlier yelling and pointing at the lot of us. I was surprised to see it, but I only hoped she was enough of a distraction for me to find someplace to hide.

  Yeah, right. No such luck. No sooner had I hobbled down the alleyway, than the leader called to the others.

  “Get him boys.”

  Three of his gang turned and nonchalantly followed me down the alley. I realized real quick why no one was worried about me getting away. The alley ended a couple of yards further down and spilled out into a squared off opening with no exit.

  Oh crap. What else can go wrong today? I knew that old man would cause me nothing but trouble.

  With nowhere to run, I turned and watched the bullies heading my way, each of pounding one hand into the other. I glanced past them and saw the leader was still in the street evidently watching the girl.

  I saw him flip her off and yell.

  “Get your ass outta here or you’re next. Matter of fact, if you don’t run fast enough, you’ll be next anyway. My boys haven’t had fun with a girl since yesterday.”

  I hoped she ran fast. The girl would have to fend for herself because I found myself trapped in the small square flanked on three sides by brick walls from the surrounding buildings. It had probably been a real nice garden a long time ago. It didn’t look so nice now with a few scrubby weeds poking through the dirt.

  I saw the girl stop short at the head of the alley. It didn’t take a genius to know that she hadn’t liked the leader’s threat, but she didn’t turn and run away either. She was smart enough to stay out of reach of the leader though.

  The gang leader must have gotten tired of threatening her because he turned his attention to me and entered the alley. With his back turned, he didn’t notice that the girl continued to inch her way down the alley after him.

  The gang surrounded me and waited. I looked around, but couldn’t see any way out of this one. The leader came walking up to me, holding his hands out in mock supplication. I knew that this was going to be bad.

  “I tried to nice,” he said. “I told you I would go easy on you if you just gave me that pretty stick. I warned you, boy, I warned you. Why didn’t you listen?”

  “Here take it,” I said, holding the cane out for him.

  The leader smiled wickedly and shook his head.

  “Oh no, it ain’t gonna be that easy boy. Seems to me you need another lesson. I don’t like to repeat myself and I don’t like people who waste my time. You’ve already done both today.”

  I continued to hold the cane out, trying to balance on my good leg, pleading with him to take it, but he just stood there. I realized that it was all a pretense, just an act; he was going to beat the crap out of me regardless of what I did or didn’t do. It’s what these guys did. I was going to be their perverse pleasure.

  That bastard is enjoying this. I wish I could take that smirk of his and shove it down his throat.

  I was scared and the shaking started. They had roughed me up earlier, but they hadn’t seriously hurt me. Yeah, they had knocked me down and kicked me in the head, but I survived. This time, I wasn’t so sure. I reached up and gingerly probed the weeping cut on my head from the earlier beating. It was still wet. I winced as I touched it.

  “That ain’t nothin
’ compared to what we’re gonna do you to now,” the leader said.

  I could feel my knees begin to buckle. I was holding the cane out cause I was too scared to do anything else. If I fell now, I knew they would just kick me until I stopped moving.

  Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Stop moving, stop feeling, stop all the hurt.

  I’m not exactly sure what happened next. I was so scared that I thought I would piss myself and the cane was getting heavy holding it out in front of me. I lowered it, readjusted my grip, and ended up holding it like a club. I remember feeling a stud along the handle and I pressed it.

  That’s when all hell broke loose.

  ***

  At first, I thought the asshole behind me had hit me because it felt like a huge wave crashing into my brain. I screamed. All of a sudden I had someone else’s memories pouring into my mind. I didn’t understand them, they were coming too fast and too strong. I staggered against the mental onslaught. I lowered the cane to steady myself. That’s when I realized I didn’t need it to keep my balance. My leg had straightened and I wasn’t crippled anymore. The pain I had felt wasn’t only from those memories pouring into my mind, but also from bones realigning themselves. It hurt like hell.

  What the hell? In the blink of an eye, my left leg felt whole again, I stood tall, and I felt a surge of confidence rushing through me. I looked down at the cane with new understanding. It wasn’t a crutch any longer; it was a weapon. Somehow, I knew that if I twisted the handle of the cane in a certain way, the body would slide off to reveal a razor sharp sword underneath.

  How do I know this stuff? I looked up and saw the gang leader staring at me suspiciously. He had seen me stumble, and then suddenly stand straight.

  “What the hell is this?” he snarled. “Have you been playing a cripple all this time? I don’t like people who play games with me, boy.”

  I looked down at myself and saw two whole legs. For one brief moment I was elated. The pain in my hip and knee were gone. I was standing straight, on my own two legs, like before my accident. Then I looked up again and realized the situation I was facing. I was apprehensive, but somehow I wasn’t scared anymore. The youths surrounding me were no longer a threat; they were nothing but a ragtag collection of bullies.