Last Light Falling (14 page)

Before the last bell rings, the television hanging in the corner of the classroom suddenly comes on. The TVs are normally for educational purposes, but when there is pertinent weather information or some national news coverage of importance, class can be interrupted at any time.

The government controls just about everything, but the media still has some slight advantages in pursuing and displaying stories to the people that the government would probably much rather have filtered. This has sparked much of the recent debate going on in what’s left of our administration.

The government has a tight lid on global information filtered through the media, especially via the Internet, which has recently been heavily regulated, but today’s sudden news coverage is not without a hint of irony—it’s about our very own nation. At the bottom of the screen is a scrolling ticker that reads:
Breaking news—A possible class movement on the rise.

The newscaster comes on the camera and says, “The
ongoing class wars have created a deterrent in policy during a special congressional hearing today that included special guests, Gennadi Gorshkov of Russia, and Delun Yeung of China. The nation’s relationship with these two leaders has led to extensive cultural adaption policies. During this international diplomacy, the two leaders have recently exercised their voice about similar changes that have been put into place in their respective countries. Talks between the political parties may have reached an agreement to remove all Watchers from a twenty-mile radius of every city. This restructured policy goes on to include a possible relocation of poverty-stricken families to designated poor regions, which according to leadership is deemed necessary and is less likely to disturb a future international economic policy. Though these talks have not been confirmed as resolute, Russian and Chinese leadership have vowed to see these policies successfully determined by the end of the week. The president says he doesn’t
…”

The broadcast suddenly turns to black followed by an eerie silence, and the television shuts off a minute later, leaving us wondering what was going to be said next. This information was obviously not supposed to leak
out, and the government has now forcefully stepped in, controlling the media’s outlet of information, but too much has already been said. The events that have been prophetically broadcast are now in motion and can’t be stopped. It has begun.

For a moment, nobody says a word; they just look down at their desks, wondering if they will be the ones relocated. Our teacher looks a little stunned, but doesn’t hesitate to stand up and try to make everyone feel at ease. “It’s the same old mantra we hear from our government and nothing ever happens. I wouldn’t worry too much over this. Information can always be misleading.”

Misleading, really? Do you honestly think we’re not smart enough to determine what this administration is capable of doing after what this country has gone through the past ten years? I understand the teacher’s intentions, but at least give us a little credit.

Before anyone can say a word, the final bell rings, leaving everyone hanging on with a little more uncertainty now. After this troubling news, I find the little time I spend with Jacob outside a bit unsettling before Gabe and I meet with Father Joseph in the den. That’s what we call the fortified concrete structure. Like clockwork, we find ourselves sneaking into the back window of the gas station and through the side room where Father Joseph waits.

“Have you heard the news lately?” Father Joseph asks with an unearthly stare. His question is directed toward me, as if he’s trying to drive home his point from yesterday.

“Yes, or at least most of it before it was shut off,” I say.

Father Joseph takes a key from his pocket and hands it to Gabe. “Here, take this, just in case we somehow get separated from here on out. I made a spare copy.”

We walk into the den, and it’s the same as it was yesterday, but it still feels absolutely incredible to walk into a room with this much hitech weaponry. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.

“Come and sit, there is someone waiting to meet with you,” says Father Joseph. Out from the hidden room where all the knives are located pops out Henry Matsuda, my martial arts instructor.

“Henry!” I run to him with open arms. “I’m so glad to see you,” I say, hugging him.

“Gabriel, it’s always great to see you. Any new inventions you’ve been working on?” Henry asks.

“No, been too busy trying not to worry about getting my head kicked in at school, but with all this equipment at my fingertips, I may be able to find a cure,” says Gabe.

I haven’t seen Henry in three months, since the beginning of summer. He usually gives me the summers off to work my craft at a pace I’m normally more comfortable with, but I still try to emulate my exercises as if I’m back in the dojo with him.

“Have you been disciplined in the arts? Has your practice continued or suffered since we last met?” Henry asks.

“You can be the judge of that,” I say with poise. I hope I haven’t overstepped my bounds, any arrogance aside, but I’m feeling rather confident today.

“You might want to step back, Gabe, I think God’s work is on display,” Father Joseph says softly, pulling Gabe back by his shirt.

“Don’t let your overconfidence expose your weakness. Respect can go a long way, my young student. Why don’t you go ahead and take off your backpack and let’s just see what you have learned,” Henry says.

“I think I’ll just leave it on for now,” I say.

“Don’t get too cocky,” he says.

Henry takes his position as I take mine, but I stay on the defense at first, blocking everything he gives me. After about two minutes of blocking his punches and kicks, he steps it up a notch.

“That’s a good warm-up, Arena, but that’s child’s play for you. Let’s test your other skills,” he says.

Henry runs toward me, and with his arm raised to the right of my shoulder, he swings a phantom punch with his back turned to me. He then slides down to sweep my legs, but to his surprise, my instincts have matured. I jump and turn with a back kick to his head. He seems to stop playing around with me now and becomes more serious.

I dodge every kick and counter with a knee to his chest. If he only knew I was just playing with him too. Ad-libbing in dramatic fashion, he grabs a wooden stick from the table to intimidate me.

He comes at me at every angle he can think of, and it becomes too easy for me to either block or dodge, and I finally pin him down with the stick to his throat with a simple
Sambo
move. “Nice move,” he says.

“This is where I slit your throat, of course,” I respond playfully.

He gets up, perspiring and panting, yet I’ve failed to find one bead of sweat resting on my skin. “Kung Fu,” Henry says loudly. This is where I should excel because it’s my favorite of all the martial arts.

I stand in a firm horse stance as Henry comes at me, attacking with strong center punches, and quick, short-burst kicks. He swings his elbows and fires a right punch as I counter with a left grabbing block and a right dragon claw to the throat. I follow by a sweep to his front leg and finish with a right knife-edge kick to his other leg. Henry lies on the
floor and his face is in total shock. My eyes pierce through him like daggers.

He gets up and opens with a right-left punch combination. I block the first shot with a left tiger-claw parry and follow with a right tiger-claw parry. I take control of Henry’s left arm and apply a tiger claw to the face and groin. I look into Henry’s eyes and say, “If I wanted to, I could just end it here and rip your testicles off right now, but like you said, respect goes a long way.”

I pull down his head with his left arm and strike the back of his neck with a right swinging forearm. He gets up quickly, playing right into my next move. He swings upward with his elbow to my jaw, but I turn around, taking my backpack off and sliding his right arm through the loop. He tries to counter by ducking under to release his arm, but I slip the other loop from the backpack onto his left arm and turn once more, leaving his useless limbs tied to a Hello Kitty backpack and his knees on the ground.

“Looks like you’re ready for school. Shall I pack you a lunch?” I say with a smile.

He sits there briefly, looking defeated, but quickly smiles. “Well played,” says Henry. I help him up and give him a hug.

“You taught me well, and I want to thank you for all you have done. Really, you’ve been like a father to me, Henry. I thank you for that,” I say.

I look over at Gabe and Father Joseph, and they both just stare in silence with their mouths wide open.

“God have mercy on the boy who tries to take advantage of her,” says Father Joseph to Gabe.

“Come and sit down, Arena,” says Henry, trying to catch his breath. “You have learned more moves and mastered techniques than I ever could have imagined. It takes many years to hone the skills you possess right now. You are truly gifted, but you still lack one thing that will complete your training, and it takes most people a lifetime to understand,” says Henry.

“Yeah, and what’s that?” I say, unconcerned.

He pauses, looks into my eyes, and says, “Humility. This is something I cannot teach you.”

I just sit there and ponder the complexity of Henry’s wisdom, and realize the only thing complex about it is my will to accept it or not. How much more of my life will unravel before I see the simplicity of its very nature? Humility is the sharpest weapon of a warrior—it’s unscathed under God’s grace.

“I know what’s in your heart, Arena. I’ve seen the pain on your face throughout the years, but you and your brother were chosen for this Divine journey,” Henry says.

I look at Henry, a little puzzled and slightly shocked, and now realize Father Joseph must have filled him in about why we are here. Either that, or he has already known for reasons I can’t explain.

“There is obviously something very special about the two of you. I know you have accepted it, but now you must embrace it and never let go. I came here today just as Finnegan had instructed me, to help prepare you both for the hell you will witness from this day forward. This is your quest—you are the chosen ones, and if you lead, I will certainly follow,” says Henry.

I gaze down at the floor with troubling thoughts that are less musing than the fate at hand. Henry’s solemn face is pierced with an uncertainty I have not seen before, which makes this engaging moment even more unsettling.

“I will not allow you to go down a path you’re not ready for,” Henry says. His words share a small comfort that briefly lures me away from my disturbing gaze, but the reality of all this is beginning to consume me with fear.

The disquieting silence leaves Father Joseph kneeling down on the ground to pray. “Before we begin, let’s acknowledge God’s mercy and grace, and give thanks to our Lord,” he says.

After Father Joseph prays over us, Gabe takes over the tools on the far right table and begins soldering right away on some circuit boards he finds in a plastic box, while Henry takes me into the knife room to train me with the swords.

Just a few days ago, I was preparing for high school, trying to avoid new enemies, and now I’m training and preparing to kill my enemies.

A couple of hours go by as we lose track of time. I leave the knife room and try to pry my brother away from his gadgets. “We need to go, Gabe. Remember, we have dinner plans tonight.” He ignores me, so I’m forced to interject. “Hey, Casanova! Juliana is waiting for you!”

He abruptly drops his tools and says, “So what are we waiting on?”

Before we take off, I glance at Gabe’s handiwork and notice a box of hi-tech gadgets sitting on the table next to him. I spot a couple of wireless pinhole cameras inside the box near the bottom. “Gabe, can these cameras transmit a signal from any source?” I ask.

“Of course, as long as the source is no further than two miles away. You just need to dial in the signal code and match the frequency of the camera to the frequency of the coded source. It’s quite simple really. Why?” Gabe asks.

“No reason, just curious,” I say, as I carefully slip the small cameras into my pocket without anyone noticing before we leave the den.

We walk into the house, and the aroma of roasted duck is so overwhelming, my saliva is trying to escape my mouth. I quickly go upstairs to shower and change into something more appealing than I normally would wear. I’m a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl, but tonight must be special if I want to get Jacob’s attention. I put on a tight black skirt and a low-cut, delicate-knit black top that fits snugly around my girlish curves—but not too much exposure that would otherwise entice promiscuous thoughts.

I try on a pair of Niki’s black high-heels and wonder how in the hell any girl would want to subject their feet to this unnecessary pain. I take two steps and nearly fall flat on my face as my ankle rolls to the side. Guys have no idea how much time and trouble we go through to make them smile. I should get an award tonight if I make it through the evening without tripping.

As I finish putting the last touches of light makeup on my face, I stare into the mirror and see a young woman before me. All dressed up, I can really see my mother’s reflection now. Gabe spends the next thirty minutes making sure that every hair on his head is evenly placed.

“Hey, Gabe, you’ve spent enough time on your hair. You think it’s worth thirty minutes for her to notice it? You do look very nice though.” I pause and poke my head back in the bathroom. “So don’t screw it up by acting like an animal at the dinner table. You better bring your bigboy manners tonight.”

The doorbell rings and I can only assume it’s either Juliana or Jacob standing outside, so I run downstairs to greet them. I open the door where they are both shyly standing in their well-dressed attire. I eagerly greet them, but not without gawking at Jacob first. I can’t believe this is the same guy I see at school hiding underneath those baggy clothes. “Hey guys, come on in,” I say.

“Where’s Gabe?” Juliana anxiously asks.

“He should be coming down any minute. You look very nice Jacob,” I say sweetly.