The Chaos Blade - Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Nearly a week had passed in which Eric had managed to secure a leave of absence for himself from his business (Bill had just up and quit the job he had; hanging out with Eric and Yamara promised to be more fun). Eric made some calls and talked to people, as well as doing plenty of research on his own. By the time five days had passed from when they had gotten Yamara out of the hospital, he had a pretty good idea of where the stolen sword had ended up. Yamara had spent the time recovering and had surprised them when she acquired a small arsenal of knives, swords, and other hand-to-hand weapons from a hiding spot in her room.

"Florida, eh? Makes sense I guess, since that's where you said they were at before."

Eric nodded, he had not expected any real surprises. He looked at Yamara then, who showed signs of being completely recovered from her injuries. "We gonna have any problems with this?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, showing no signs of understanding.

"He means," Bill said, leaning towards her and smiling leering, "are you going to be good and helpful, or are you going to try and sneak away with this thing on your own?"

She returned his smile with a cold one of her own. "For the time being I plan to work with you two. After... well, I guess we will just have to wait and see."

She glanced at Eric defiantly. He just sighed and stood up. "Okay, I suppose that will have to be good enough for now. Cowboy, let's go see what your boys have for us."

During their weak of near convalescence Eric and Cowboy got to know Yamara a little bit better. She, on the other hand, got to know the two of them much better. Ever a skilled spy (though not presently an active one), she listened well and asked questions in clever ways that disguised her true meaning. Even though she had no real reason, yet, to distrust them or to try and get away on her own she wanted to be ready in case the time came.

She found Bill to be gruff and obnoxious most of the time, but he used that facade to hide a sometimes gentle nature underneath. From the stories the two told she doubted he had much chance to explore that more gentle nature though.

Eric she still found genuine, and that bothered her. He reminded her of Evart in many small ways, though more attractive then the short and wiry havrin had been. This of course irritated her and made her seek all the more for faults within him. She refused to ponder the possibility that he truly was what he seemed. She had made that mistake once before. It had cost her considerable pain to get back to her normal way of life. Pain that sometimes still bothered her.

They headed out of the latest motel they had stayed in the next morning, piling into a rusty old F-250 that Eric had paid cash for two days earlier. He threw the manual transmission into gear and roared out of the parking lot, heading south towards Florida, by way of a stop in Tennessee. Some of the bikers Cowboy had rode with lived in a remote shack high up in the Appalachian mountains of Tennessee's backcountry. The ran a tidy little profit selling homegrown drugs, booze, and guns.

Starting out in Ohio, they did not reach Tennessee until an hour or so before dusk that day. Having been on Earth for several months, she still found her breath taken away by how quickly things could move. In particular, vehicles. She lacked understanding of how they worked, something about a hybrid engine involving electricity and fuel cell technology. She just considered it magic and tried not to think about it.

Bill's contacts turned out to be glad to see him. They remembered Eric faintly from one time he had gone riding with Bill to the yearly bike rally in Sturgis. They were most interested in Yamara though. She was dressed plainly, wearing a Cincinnati Bengal's baseball cap, faded jeans and a large red Hooter's t-shirt. She disdained bras, having come from a society that had no such thing save the corsets and girdles of nobility and serving wenches, and found the underwear of modern women to be quite invasive and uncomfortable. But her lack of undergarments did not show in the drab outfit she wore and her own average chest size did not boast of her ever having worked at a Hooter's restaurant. In spite of all that, she seemed to stand out to the backwater gunrunners.

Everything went fine with the deal though, up until one of the bikers tried to cop a feel. As soon as his hand brushed against her ass she had his hand in hers and he was on his knees, grunting in pain. Everyone else stopped and turned to see what was going on, stunned. She glared angrily at him while he looked up at her pleadingly. She had his wrist locked in her strong grip and his thumb folded in on itself, which she steadily applied pressure too.

"Jesus Christ, I'm sorry!" He said after a long moment of trying to ignore the pain of the hold. He finally snapped and begged for mercy.

"Yamara, let him go," Bill growled, afraid that things were about to turn ugly.

She ignored him and continued to hold the would-be lecher down for another long moment. Then she pushed down and everyone present heard the snap his thumb made. He howled in agony and fell completely to the ground, cradling his now released hand.

Eric wanted to chuckle, but he suspected the timing might not have been good. The other three bikers stood motionless, poised for action. Nobody knew what to do until one of them finally started laughing.

"You stupid shit, Randy! I told you something like that was gonna happen someday!" He said to the wounded man on the ground.

The tensions eased at that point and everybody else laughed a little to further relieve themselves. Everybody except Randy and Yamara. He started to get up off the ground and muttered under his breath, "I'm gonna show that fucking bitch!"

He never made it to his feet. Yamara's foot shot out and connected with his face, mashing his nose flat and driving him onto his back, unconscious. She dropped low after the attack and looked at everyone else, ready to defend herself.

That just sent the bikers into even stronger gales of laughter. Eric felt himself laughing pretty good too, the biker had deserved it. Well... maybe. Eric was just glad that it was not him on the receiving end!

Bill chuckled lightly and proceeded to try and move things along quickly so that they could get past the situation. The only further notice of it he took was to send an angry glance at Yamara, which she caught and let fall on an impassive face.

They finished up and left before Randy had woken back up. The other bikers assured Bill that it was no big deal, Randy had that coming from years of abuse. None of them mentioned that they were all just as glad as Eric was that it had been Randy and not them that had tried to be cute with her.

Still angry over it, Bill drove them silently through the night while Eric was in the back of the extended cab truck, going over the guns they had bought and making sure everything was in order.

Modified M-4s, shortened assault rifles capable of automatic fire. Only two of them, but only he and Cowboy knew how to handle a gun. In spite of it, he had made sure that they each acquire a pistol. For him it was a Desert Eagle .50 caliber. Cowboy's was a good old fashioned Colt .45. He had chosen a Glock 17 9mm pistol for Yamara. It was a big gun for a small hand, but she had demonstrated her strength enough for him. Body armor for all in the form of flak jackets. A few pounds of C-4 for them to play with, and Yamara had a special request.

"You really should not have done that," Bill said quietly after stewing over the matter for several miles.

Eric groaned inwardly. He was afraid Bill was going to push the incident. Yamara merely sat up front, ignoring him and running a whetstone over one of her various knives.

"Aren't ya gonna say anything?" He asked after it became apparent that she had no rebuttal.

She stopped sharpening the already razor keen knife and looked at him coldly. "No one touches me without my permission."

"Jesus Yamara, he wasn't going to rape you, it was a harmless little grab-ass!" Bill exploded. "You damn near cost us the meet, and for that matter, our lives! We were outnumbered and outgunned there!"

Bill took a few breaths and calmed down before continuing. "Look, all I'm saying is that you should have taken it easy on him, I plan on living to a ripe old age and dying in my sleep, okay?"

Her frozen gaze never left his. "I took it easy on him. On my world he would be dead."

Bill's eyes widened slightly and then he looked away and shook his head. "Thanks Eric," was all he said.

Eric looked back and forth between the two of them. Too many days together, it was starting to wear on all three of them.

"Cowboy, pull into the next motel, I think we could all use a night off," He said after a few uncomfortably quiet moments had passed. "We'll head down to the everglades tomorrow and recon the place in the evening. Then hit it the following day."

Bill grunted agreement and continued to drive. They just passed the southern Tennessee state line when they found a suitable motel to pull in to. Cheap rates and cheaper quality, but they were going for anonymity.

As soon as their gear was stowed, Bill left, heading out into the humid night for some time by himself. Eric was still going over their gear and Yamara watched him wordlessly. He glanced up at her and smiled weakly.

"Ever seen one of these?" He asked, holding up the pistol he had bought for her. She shook her head.

"It's a Glock 17 pistol. It holds sixteen bullets in the clip," he showed her the three empty magazines they had for it. "Semi-automatic weapon, that means you pull this slide back to chamber a round, then point it at your target and pull the trigger as many times as you need to."

Yamara watched him go through the motions of firing the gun. She showed no sign of understanding the point to it. Eric ejected the clip he had put in it and handed it to her and said, "Here, you try it."

She picked up a clip and slipped it into place. It clicked home and she grabbed the slide exactly as Eric had done and cocked it back. Had there been any bullets in the clip it would have been loaded. She pointed it at him and tried to pull the trigger, which was locked both because the safety was on and because there had been no round to chamber, the slide had not closed.

"Okay, um, here, let me put a bullet in the clip so you can try it again, but don't point it at me and don't pull the trigger this time, okay?"

Yamara nodded, handing the pistol to him.

Eric breathed a sigh of relief as soon as it was no longer pointed at him. He took it and ejected the clip and slipped a bullet into it. Then he double checked to make sure the safety was on before handing it back to her. "From the beginning this time."

Yamara repeated the exercise, slamming the barely loaded clip in and racking in the bullet this time. She pointed it in a two handed grip fashion towards an imaginary person standing near the door this time, and lightly placed her finger over the trigger.

"What will it do?" She asked, not seeming to be very impressed.

"Well, it's loud, first of all. When it goes off try not to be surprised but it will sound like thunder," Eric said, making the gun sound worse then it would actually be. It took a big gun to sound like thunder, but to someone using one their first time, it might seem like it.

"Then it's going to kick some. By kick I mean recoil. It will feel like it's trying to jump in your hands every time you pull the trigger, just be calm and make sure you keep it pointed at whatever you are aiming at."

"Like a crossbow," Yamara said matter-of-factly.

"Um, sorta," Eric nodded, "only it'll kick more."

"What else?" She asked, turning to face him but keeping the gun from pointing at him.

"That button there," Eric pointed the safety out to her. "That's the safety, with it pushed in like that, you can not pull the trigger and shoot it. When you flip it over like this, that red line you can see now means it is ready to fire, just pulling the trigger will make it shoot."

Yamara flipped the safety off and aimed at her imaginary target again. Her finger brushed over the trigger and Eric winced, afraid she was going to shoot. She took her finger off and put the safety back on though, to his great relief. "Very much like a crossbow. Loads different and shoots much smaller bolts, like sling bullets, but not so different."

Eric thought about explaining the major difference between the two weapons, but opted against it, since it would have taken hours and involved a history of firearms and chemistry. So instead he nodded and accepted it back from her.

"Here, try this on," he handed her the smallest flak vest of the three he had bought. She slipped it on over her shirt and after some fumbling around, secured the buckles on it making it fit up against her snugly.

"Strange armor," she said, tapping on the front of it where the Kevlar plate inside was located.

"Um, yeah, maybe, but these will stop most small caliber bullets so it might just save your ass."

She shrugged and took it back off, tossing it on the table where he had gotten it. "At least it's black," she said.

Eric nodded and finished stowing away their gear back in the duffel bags they had gotten them in. He finished and looked at Yamara, trying to figure out something to say. Finally he sighed and came out with it.

"Take it easy on Bill, okay? He's a good guy, but you really scared him back there."

Yamara looked at him for a long moment, her face impossible to read. "He worries too much," she finally said.

Eric laughed, relieved that things might not be too bad. "Yeah, he does. Man had a few ulcers back when we were on active duty. He had command of a mission one time when the Lieutenant got killed and the sergeant got hurt bad enough to be knocked unconscious. It was a bad mission from the get-go, and some more of his guys never made it back. He blames himself for it, even though he did a damn good job. Never forgave himself, so he tries to overcompensate ever since. That's the real reason why Cowboy got out when his time was up, he was afraid to be a part of the team anymore."

"What happened to the sergeant?" Yamara asked, suspecting there was a story there based on the way that Eric had said the word.

"He got out okay. Messed him up pretty good though, broken ribs, head injury, torn spleen and some liver damage, plus a broken leg. Spent a few weeks in the hospital healing up before he eventually got discharged for medical reasons."

"That explains the scars and the limp," Yamara said, her voice betraying the tiniest hint of understanding as she walked over to where Eric was sitting on the edge of one of the beds in the room.

"Yeah, I guess it does," he admitted. He had been that sergeant. Grenade went off only a couple of feet away from him, with only the lieutenant between him. The officer had absorbed most of the shrapnel and some of the force from the blast, but it had still done quite a number on him.

"I like to think I did a lot more damage to my liver before and after in the bars though," Eric said with a grin. He rarely talked about the past; it did no good to dwell on it.

A moment of silence passed between them, stretching long enough that it began to grow uncomfortable. Eric wondered if Yamara was waiting to hear more about his military career, but had no desire to go over it again. He went over it often enough in his dreams.

"I'm not sure about Alesha now, but I - we will get that sword away from those people," Yamara surprised him by saying out of the blue. Eric was pleased to know that she had apparently been introspective herself.

"Well, Alesha was nothing but bad news when I knew her, briefly. We'll just have to wait and see what happens after we get it back, okay? So until then can we all play together and be friends?"

Yamara let a smile through briefly then nodded. "Sure thing, friends it is. Even with Bill. Just make sure he doesn't try to fondle me, only a special few get to do that."

Eric laughed. "Not a problem! Say, would you really have killed him?"

Yamara gave him a look that suggested he not ask questions he did not want answers too. Regardless, she voiced it aloud. "You and Bill have killed men for your realm and for your cause, but you always do it from afar, like an archer with these guns you are so proud of. In spite of that death still makes you squirm, it bothers you to think you could be so close to it. Have you ever killed a man or a woman with your hands? Twisted a knife inside their stomach and watched the light go out of their eyes?"

As she spoke her tone got more powerful and sank into Eric, reminding him of a scuffle he had once had with an Iraqi soldier when his unit had dropped into a prison camp in Iraq to rescue some captured pilots. He had been supposed to silence the guard quietly, and had done so but only after several minutes of tough combat in which his own life had been at stake. They had wrestled in the cold desert night with a drawn knife between them. Only when he had finally managed to crush the Iraqi's testicles with his knee had he managed to gain enough power over the knife to slide it into the man's throat and kill him. Eric remembered staring in horrified fascination into the mans eyes as the panic overtook him and he realized he was seconds from dying. Then the light fled as he went into shock and passed out. The blood stopped pumping out of the gash in his throat mere seconds later. His terror had caused his heart to give up even before his brain would have died from the anoxia.

Eric shuddered briefly and nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly, "I have done that. It's a terrible thing to take away the life of a person. You are taking away everything they have ever had and everything they ever will. Their family, their friends... there's no coming back from where you send them. It's something that will rest on my soul forever, a stain."

She nodded thoughtfully and said quietly, almost rhetorically, "Can you imagine doing that to someone you care about?"

Eric's eyes widened as he tried to understand what Yamara was saying. He tried to grasp the concept but had trouble with it. He knew how he felt from having killed the enemy, he could not imagine what it would be like to kill a friend. "No, I can't imagine it."

Yamara smiled weakly. He had been honest, not disbelieving or reproachful. "You feel this way but yet you still go on to do this? You will be forced to kill tomorrow or the day after, or perhaps the day after that. Peace is not for us. Bill wants to die while sleeping as an old man, that can only happen if he takes the lives of others. If all of us take the lives of others. You can accept this?"

Eric nodded. "I can take the lives of others because there are more important things out there then life. My own life I would forfeit if I knew it would guarantee that we could retrieve this blade from these people and keep it safe from them. I saw what they were doing before, and if keeping this weapon from them in some way keeps them from gaining some of that power back, then it is worth my life and Bill's life and your life to do so."

Eric paused thoughtfully then pushed on before Yamara could say anything more. "Bill and I, we were young and stupid. We didn't fight for our country we fought for ourselves because we had no sense of the greater unit. The greater good. You can only do that so long before you realize that there are a lot of shitty places out there, and it's because of people like me and Bill that were spilling our own blood that we were allowed to live the decent lives that we lived. It was because of people like us that other people were able to throw protests and piss and moan about how unjust and cruel it was for us to be bombing helpless third world women and children. Women and children that could pick up and fire an AK-47 just as well as the man next to them. Those people hate people like me, but they should love us, because without us they would be slaves of a tyrannical government."

"And how do you feel about those people?" She asked, her tone curious.

"I think they're full of shit and clueless, to be honest, but that's their god-given right as Americans. And I fought to maintain their ignorance. Deep down I like to think they wanted me to and that they are thankful, but they have to pretend otherwise in order to satisfy the social circle they are involved in. It's not popular to hate commies, anymore." Eric paused and looked at Yamara deeply. "You get any one of them backed into a corner and confronted by someone who wanted them dead and I bet you any money that ninety out of a hundred would realize that violence does solve some things. They would fight tooth and nail for their own right to live. For themselves or for their children, brother, sister, mother, father, or good old Aunt Sally."

"And that one person out of a hundred?" Yamara asked, silently wondering who Aunt Sally was.

"That punk is already dead, he shit his pants and died of fright as soon as he found out that he couldn't say 'time out!' or 'hey, that isn't fair!' or offer to buy somebody off. His son is crying because mommy and sissy have been raped and killed, or killed then raped, and the family dog just got cooked for dinner. When it comes down to it, violence solves everything. It's the fear of it and the things that can happen when men and women reduce themselves to that level that keeps civilization civil."

Eric took a few deep breaths to calm himself and looked away from her. He had let himself get carried away there, and partly because she goaded him into it. He looked back at her and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I'll get off my soapbox now."

Yamara just shook her head. "No, you're right. I come from a barbaric civilization compared to yours, but maybe it's not so different."

"So who's is better?" Eric asked, watching Yamara intently. The debate had caused her to drop her guard ever so briefly, and now that he was paying attention to it, he found the hidden creature within her thoroughly captivating. He likened her to a scared little girl trying to figure things out.

"I don't know, in mine people who do evil things admit at least to being evil. In yours they know that there are better ways to do things," she said thoughtfully.

Eric chuckled. "Yes, we may know it, but knowing and doing are two separate things."

They both laughed at that and continued to compare the Earth of 2112 with the lands that Yamara had come from and lived in for hours on end. Bill eventually returned and found the two of them still chatting. They quieted down then for a while, and Yamara forced a confrontation between her and Bill to resolve things. Her guardedness returned to the forefront, but she was a little more open about it, at least towards Eric. In him she sensed a faintly kindred spirit. Perhaps not in shared lifestyles or events, but at least in ideals. Or perhaps it was merely that he was someone she had actually opened up to in some small way. She suspected things might get complicated if she was not careful.

Regardless of her own internal turmoil, Yamara talked and Bill listened to her explain her behavior. He even sheepishly admitted a small apology of his own. Things were mildly uncomfortable for a little while longer, but they returned to normal rapidly.

With only a few hours until dawn they finally went to sleep. It was nearly noon before they were ready to be on the road again, though they felt quite recharged in spite of the short night. New possibilities and responsibilities awaited them. Florida loomed on the near horizon both as beacon of hope and a grim storm cloud of despair.

Continued in Chapter 11

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