Eighth Fire (11 page)

Mark said, “Let’s assume it’s some kind of
electronics, what’s the best way to defend against that?”

“You use electronics against electronics,
but until we know exactly what’s being used, countermeasures are
impractical.”

Jamal said, “What if it’s not electronic,
but something else?”

They reached the only set of elevators in
the school which were only supposed to be used by guests or in case
of a medical emergency. Having your pinkies glued to the inside of
your nose, although requiring medical attention, did not qualify as
an emergency. Mark pushed the button.

Jamal said, “We’re not supposed to use the
elevators.”

Chenoa said, “What, you want to walk to the
stairs like this and let everybody see us? We’ll be a laughing
stock.”

Nick said, “Wait!” Before he finished
saying, “This is the perfect place for an ambush,” the doors slid
open revealing just an empty elevator. Nick shrugged.

A small, radio-controlled plastic box
concealed on top of a statue off to the side and behind them
sprayed a small amount of liquid on their backs. With their fingers
up their noses, none in the group realized what had happened or
that they now reeked with skunk odor.

Mark started walking and said, “If we go to
the theaters we can cut across the mall pretty quick and get to the
stairs.”

Mark’s pace was almost a jog when they
reached the entrance to the mall beside the theaters. The passage
between the two sides of the mall was packed with laughing
spectators. The closest people grabbed their noses, turned their
heads and started backing up. Bruce Spencer was standing on the
other side of the mall, grinning and waving a walkie-talkie at
them.

Mark had rarely seen Bruce outside of class
last year and didn’t know much about him except he practiced sword
fighting with Slone’s crew and was with Slone when he’d met him
last year. Mark looked around at the crowd and it reminded him of
how everyone had looked last year when Slone led his group back
into the mall and everyone of them were rank from the droppings of
about fifty-thousand starlings.

Mrs. Shadowitz emerged from the crowd and
holding her nose she said, “You four march straight outside, right
now! Shana will meet you shortly with something to get rid of that
smell and un-stick your fingers.”

Mark started to speak but Mrs. Shadowitz cut
him off. “Go!” She pointed down the hall toward the exit.

The group walked out onto the school grounds
and Mark didn’t have to say what he was thinking, everyone had
already picked up his thoughts.

Jamal said, “You’re probably right. I wonder
how many more in Slone’s group never had anything to do with
attacking us?”

Nick said, “It couldn’t be helped. We had to
do something or they would have thought they could just do anything
to us anytime they wanted and we wouldn’t do anything about
it.”

Jamal answered, “Still, innocent people
suffered. I wonder how much more retribution we can expect?”

Bruce, followed by Slone and crew, walked
out the door. Bruce said, “I see you figured it out. There were
seven of us that never had anything to do with what happened to
you.” Slone’s group held their distance up wind.

Mark said, “How about let’s call an end to
the feud?”

Bruce said, “As far as I’m concerned, we’re
even.”

Slone said, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re
still fair game.”

“Why in the world are you targeting me?”

“Ever since I met you last year I knew you
needed an attitude adjustment. A few good butt whippings will do
you fine. You need to learn to respect your betters.”

Shana appeared with a spray bottle in her
hand and quickly moved upwind. “Okay guys, one at a time, back up
to me and let me spray your backs.”

Mark went first. “Slone, what do I have to
do to make you leave us alone?”

“Well, I’ll extend my offer once again; join
our group.”

“There’s got to be another way.”

“I tell you what, just beat anyone in our
group in a sword fight and I’ll make you and your group off limits.
Everyone will be mad at me if you win, they’re still mad about what
you did to Ricky Barns and everyone wants a piece of you for
that.”

“I didn’t do anything to Ricky Barns; he did
it himself.”

Shana said, “Next.” Mark stepped aside and
Chenoa backed up to Shana.

“Might I remind you that you started this
whole thing? Ricky, Keith and Ralph were just trying to make
friends with Nick when you butted in.”

“They weren’t trying to make friends, they
were bullying him.”

“None the less, that’s just the way it’s
done where they’re from. Then you had to humiliate them in front of
the whole school, and after that, when they tried to smooth things
over by recommending we let you join our group and what you did,
well, that was just the final straw. Now, Ricky is in prison. Do
you see why everyone is mad?”

Chenoa stepped aside and Shana said, “Next.”
Nick backed up to her.

“I’m sorry Ricky is in prison, but he did
that himself.”

“Did you ever think for one minute that if
you had said you were sorry for butting-in that any of this would
have gone this far? I think you don’t have a clue.”

Chenoa walked up to Mark and whispered, “Be
careful, he’s baiting you.”

Jeremy appeared beside Jamal. “Whew!” He
waved his hand in front of his face and stepped upwind. He looked
at Chenoa. “Okay, let’s get your fingers unstuck.” He held up a
small syringe for her to see. “This will dissolve the glue and it
won’t hurt a bit.”

Mark said to Slone, “Okay, I’m sorry.”

“It’s a bit late for that now. You’re just
lucky Ricky is alive.”

“Slone, I just want it to end right here,
right now.”

“All right, get your hands free and we’ll
see if you can.”

“What do you mean, see if I can? All we have
to do is say it’s over.”

“It’s not that easy. You see, everyone in my
group wants a piece of you. If I say no then everyone gets mad at
me, but if you join the group the rule is anyone in the group can’t
mess with anyone else in the group. Since you’re not going to join
the group I offer you a challenge. That keeps my people from
ganging up on you like they did last year and it gives everyone in
my group a hope at the chance to take you down a notch or two. If
you can beat just one person in my group in a sword fight, you win.
I’ll call off everyone. I think that’s more than fair.”

Chenoa stepped away from Jeremy and he
changed the tip on the syringe. “Okay Mark, let’s get your fingers
out.”

Chenoa asked Slone, “Is that challenge just
for Mark or is it for anyone in our group?”

Slone shrugged and pulled two riotous from
Aaron’s grasp and tossed her one. “You wanted to, what was it you
said last year? Oh yeah, ‘beat the snot out of me.’ Here’s your
chance.”

Mark yelled, “Chenoa, no! I’ll fight.”

Jeremy grabbed Mark’s collar and said,
“That’ll be a little difficult with your fingers stuck up your
nose. Tilt your head back.”

Mark glanced at Chenoa squaring off with
Slone before tilting his head back. “Please hurry.”

Jeremy started working the needle between
Mark’s finger and nostril. Mark heard the first loud cracks of wood
against wood followed by Chenoa yelling, “Yow!” Mark started to
look left, but Jeremy had a hold of his wrist so he couldn’t move
his head far enough to see. Another set of whacks sounded and
Marks’ left pinky pulled free. Chenoa and Slone were circling each
other, riotous held with the tips touching at eye level.

Jeremy said, “Let’s get your other finger
out and then you can go play with your friends.”

“They’re not my friends!”

“If you say so, but I can’t talk about it
until after sunset.”

Mark’s finger slid free and he turned just
in time to see Slone spin and bring the tip if his riotous across
Chenoa’s nose. Blood spattered across her left cheek and her nose
didn’t return to its original shape. She cried out as Slone spun
again, striking the back of her right hand. Her riotous fell to the
ground and Slone lunged forward striking Chenoa in the forehead
with the heel of the handle.

Mark screamed, “Noooooo!” He started toward
them.

Chenoa crumpled to her knees and Slone,
resting his riotous on his shoulder sniffed hard, twice. “Imagine
that, I’ve still got all my snot.” He spat a large glob just short
of her knees. “That’s what it looks like if you were
wondering.”

Mark reached them, knelt and wrapped his
arms around Chenoa. “Chenoa, you shouldn’t have, this is my
battle.”

Chenoa held her right wrist with her left
hand and didn’t say anything. Her right hand had swollen to the
size of a grape fruit.

Shana walked up and asked, “Can you
stand?”

Mark and Shana helped her to try and stand,
but she was too wobbly. Shana said, “That’s okay sweetie, I’ve got
you.” She motioned for Mark to let her hold Chenoa. Mark stepped
back. Shana took her in her arms and they were gone.

Slone picked up Chenoa’s riotous, tossed it
to Mark and he just let it fall back to the ground. “I’m not going
to fight you, Slone.”

“I know that. Ralph gets first crack at
you.”

Ralph Lawrence stepped forward and Slone
handed him his riotous. Ralph no longer looked fat; he’d lost a lot
of weight. He turned toward Mark, made a figure eight with the
practice sword and grinned. He reached into Aaron’s Grasp, removed
a small MP-3 player, dropped it into a pocket and put the wireless
phones in his ears, closed his eyes and started swaying and
singing, off key, “Bodies hit the floor, bodies hit the floor…”

Mark cocked his head and squinted. Slone
shrugged and said, “It keeps you out of his head.”

Ralph, brandishing the riotous, advanced
toward Mark. He stopped just short, tapped the tip of the riotous
on the ground three times and brought it back to guard
position.

Slone said, “That’s a warning. He plans to
attack you whether you defend yourself or not.”

Mark looked Ralph directly in the eyes,
shook his head slightly, frowned, turned and started walking off.
He hadn’t taken two steps before Ralph’s riotous struck him across
his right shoulder, followed by a blow to the side of his left
knee. Without thinking, Mark hopped to the right and the momentum
from Ralph’s next attempted blow carried him stumbling past Mark.
It was very apparent that Ralph intended to cause Mark serious
bodily harm.

Mark pulled his own riotous from Aaron’s
Grasp. Being made from the heart of a sweet-gum tree, it was a bit
heavier than the standard oak riotous and a bit stronger. The grain
in the sweet-gum wood crisscrossed itself which made the riotous
more difficult to splinter or split, thus allowing it to serve
longer in defense.

Rather than stumbling blindly on, Ralph
turned and ended in a perfect “T” stance; right foot back and
turned at a right angle to the forward facing left foot. Leaning
forward, he began sidestepping toward Mark, raising the sword as he
approached. Just before reaching striking distance, Ralph leapt
into a flying side kick which Mark dodged. On landing, Ralph spun
low, faked a blow to Mark’s ankles, swung up and connected with
Mark’s elbow and followed that by shoulder-ramming Mark in the
midsection. Mark’s riotous went flying.

Mark landed on his back and was momentarily
stunned. When he regained enough of his senses to realize Ralph was
aiming a blow toward his head area, he tried to roll, but it was
too little too late. The riotous connected with his left collar
bone and he heard as-well-as felt the bone snap. The pain was
immediate and excruciating. He forced himself to continue his roll
ending on his knees and one good arm.

Through his legs, he saw Ralph coming in for
another strike. He kicked backward and connected with Ralph’s left
knee. Ralph doubled over and grabbed his leg before falling over on
his side. Mark got to his feet, and through the pain, tucked his
bad hand into the waistband of his pants. Mark searched for his
riotous and found it about twenty feet behind where he had fallen.
He picked it up and turned just in time to see Ralph swing another
blow toward his head.

Mark ducked; poked Ralph in the armpit, spun
to try for a reverse blow to Ralph’s other knee. He missed. Ralph
had back stepped out of range. His momentum carried him around
until his back was toward Ralph; not at all a good position to be
in during a fight. A blow to the right kidney caused Mark to double
over, but the impact was a little off and it didn’t hurt as much as
it could have. Mark continued the doubling-over motion into a full
somersault, ending with the tip of his riotous striking Ralph’s
solar-plexus as Ralph advanced on him.

Mark tried to get to his feet but couldn’t.
He saw Ralph laying on the ground not five feet from him and trying
to get up. A few seconds passed with both boys struggling to get
back to their feet before Jeremy’s voice said, “I’m calling this
one a draw.”

He felt a large hand grasp his wrist and the
next thing he knew, he was on the balcony outside the healing ward
and Ralph was on the floor on the other side of the large legs.