Fight for the Future Read online

  Kest closed his eyes, considering. He crossed his legs and focused on his breathing, deep and square, letting the breeze and the desert sounds drift past him.

  After a time he opened his eyes. “So, we entered a pact where we pledged loyalty, friendship and a shared purpose, but, though I am sure I could find you attractive in that way. You might never share that aspect of a relationship with me.” He sighed. “I can see how that would be difficult. I appreciate your honesty, and I will try using my thoughts to direct my feelings and try to protect us both.”

  Kest rubbed his hands across his face, scrubbing hard. “So do you need any right now?”

  Ayleana giggled. “A little fat from your waistline would be nice.” She sounded relieved.

  Kest lay back on the rock and lifted his shirt. “What was that going on with ShwydH and those girls?”

  Ayleana did not answer right away. “I suppose he gets pleasure out of it, and definitely blood and fat. They, on the other hand, get LOTS of pleasure, from what I could tell, and free liposuction too,” she said, running her fingers across his abdomen. He felt a tingle like a gentle electric current where she touched.

  “Have you seen those enduro bikes?” Kest said.

  “I know, right? I would sooo love to take those things down the canyon over there. We may need to get our own. You know how touchy bikers are about their bikes. In the meantime... we can take these.” Her chin indicated the mountain bikes. Maybe we can try something a little more interesting?” She tossed his helmet to him. “I can probably fix any injuries you might get pretty fast.”

  “How about one diamond, that might be fun.”

  She grinned. “You’ll see. It will be AMAZING!”

  Chapter 22 — Challenge Match

  “Kest,” Amber almost shouted as she slapped him on the face to get his attention. Then she moved close to him and hissed in his ear. “I don’t care how much your mat work has improved. You can’t let this guy take you to the ground He will kill you, and I’m not talking figuratively.”

  “But other than that last shot he took at the end of the round— “

  “It was a kill strike. You were fast enough to slip it, but he was trying to drive your nose through your brain. Your speed won’t help you on the ground. I can tell he’s had at least special forces training, and I’m seeing markers of Brazilian Jiu-jitsu. I’m telling you, this is an assassination attempt, but you’ve got to go the three rounds of the challenge, or he will ghost and we won’t find out who sent him. We can get you to Aylie in seconds for a serious injury, but dead is dead.”

  Kest bit hard into his mouthpiece.

  How did I get sucked into this?

  He knew the answer to the question... now. He’d been suspicious from the beginning.

  When the challenge came, Kest had been ready to hand over the roda group to Joseph. Joseph was the perfect mentor for the students who wouldn’t be going with Kest when he moved to the SunSea Farm, mostly the younger members with ties to family. Then this challenger had stepped forward, claiming the school needed a better teacher. Kest couldn’t abandon the young kids to that kind of influence or leave a mess like that in Joseph’s lap.

  Across the room, the challenger sat on a plastic chair, calmly wiping his face, arms and chest dry with a towel.

  Yeah, he’s hoping to grapple.

  The challenger—assassin, Kest amended in his head—didn’t look like much, just a young-looking white guy. But that was, no doubt, why he’d been the one they’d sent. His street name—all he ever offered—was Game Cock, a name that smacked of cage-fights and a hint of double meaning. In his head, Kest just called him GC to avoid all the nuance. He was Kest’s height but heavier and more mature.

  Instead of toweling Kest off, Amber ran her hands over his sweaty arms, chest and back, adding a layer of oil to increase his slipperiness in case he needed to escape a hold. Coconut oil, by the smell.

  Kest’s friends and students surrounded the marked circle on the floor of the old, abandoned parking garage. They’d been cheering encouragement to Kest during the first round. Now they were quieter. Enough of them had caught a whiff of the danger of the last exchange to spread the notion to the others.

  The challenger had come alone.

  Ayleana wasn’t in sight, because she didn’t want the enemy to connect the two of them any more than they already were from their music debut. Kest figured that was a lost cause, what with the album cover and all. He suspected her real reasons were that she was afraid her protective instincts would kick in and she would interfere with the fight. Kest took a deep breath. He couldn’t let this guy kill him. Preventing the trauma these kids would go through seeing not only Kest die, but his murderer being eviscerated by Alyeana afterwards was reason enough to survive.

  “You’ve got to take it to him,” Amber said, shaking him by the shoulders. “If you let up, he’ll have an opening to take you down. It won’t need to be pretty. Keep the shots coming in from outside, don’t be tempted into a front kick. He won’t miss that opportunity to take you down.”

  Kest nodded. It made sense, and Amber not only knew her stuff, she could do it too. He had her to thank for his improvements in technique over the last three weeks. He slapped his own face to help himself focus. Grappling with a sweaty Amber had improved his groundwork, but thinking about it now would be a distraction. The scant clothing she wore during practice was always a particular source of distraction.

  Amber shook him again and put her lips right in his ear. “You need to knock him out. It’s the only way we’ll have an excuse to get him to the clinic where Tiana can question him.”

  “Time,” Rogue called from the sideline.

  Kest stood and settled the MMA half-gloves deeper onto his hands with a quick tap together. He stepped to his mark on the floor. When the assassin reached his mark too, Rogue tapped the bell.

  Kest circled left this round, looking for openings. He tested each one he thought he saw, except the ones that required straight in attacks that would make him vulnerable. The last round, he’d found most of the openings were either bait or gambits.

  Somewhere around the three-minute mark of the round, Kest tagged GC with a hard left jab and a follow up combination that snapped the assassin’s head around. Kest kept looping long shots at him, snapping his hands away after every punch to avoid entanglement. GC staggered back, but Kest saw him set his right foot, preparing for a ‘shot’ in for a double-leg takedown. Kest whirled away just as GC came back in with a long lunge that would have penetrated his defense if Kest had missed the cue.

  That was a lot of punishment to take for a chance to close.

  Combat drugs?

  Most people didn’t just shrug off punches like that, let alone volunteer for them.

  The final two minutes of the round, Kest kept busy slipping charges and delivering head punches and kicks to calf, thigh and hamstring all of which GC weathered stoically. At the bell, Kest went back to his corner, breathing hard.

  “It’s like he’s made out of wood,” he said in a quiet voice so only Amber could hear him.

  “Aylie confirms an odor she suspects reflects a designer combat drug she hasn’t encountered before.”

  “What’s the ETA on that ambulance?”

  “Seven minutes now.”

  “How could I possibly knock him out?”

  “It’s possible if you could get behind him and cut off the flow of blood to his brain long enough he’d go out. You’d have to stay there in case he came out of it again, which he probably would pretty fast. The only thing that would set him up for that would be if you could slip past him when he rushes. Very dangerous. A pile driver might stun him, but there is no way you are going to pick him up and slam him on his head.”

  Kest sucked on his water bottle as his breath settled back in comfort range.

  “Whatever you do, wait till four minutes in to reduce your own exposure. I would come in fast and hard if I saw him about to end you, but I would probab
ly have to use my knife and it would be messy and he’d be dead.”

  “That would be messy in another sense too,” Kest said. “He’ll be pushing it this round, it may give me a chance.”

  “I don’t like it. We should call the fight.”

  “Amber, they’d just come after me again and we might not see them coming next time. We need to know what he can tell us.”

  “Time,” called Rogue again. Her voice was stressed too.

  Kest stood and put his mouthpiece in, settling the matter. The calls of encouragement from his friends faded from his attention as he focused on GC who was wiping his arms and torso down again. Kest tossed the towel aside and came back into the circle.

  At the bell, Kest danced left, then backpedaled right, slipping punches, kicks and attempts to close. He needed to do something different, take a chance. He hadn’t thrown a front kick since the early part of the first round. Maybe he could set something up...

  He waited till GC had committed to a kick and snapped a hard front punching kick into his solar plexus then jumped back. The kick should have ended the match, Kest had hit him perfectly, not low, not high, but right on the money, but GC only grunted and leaped at Kest, arms outstretched, trying to bear hug.

  Kest knew he’d connected right, that kick should have spasmed the muscles that made it possible to breathe and dropped him. The drug not only blocked pain and helped GC stay conscious, it prevented him from normal involuntary muscle reactions. Kest danced away from the attempt to grapple, peppering GC with headshots. GC’s head rocked back, but he didn’t slow down.

  At least I’m ahead on points by a mile.

  Kest kept dodging and kicking, managing to sweep GC to the ground with a grass-cutter.

  On his back, GC motioned for Kest to continue. Instead Kest moved back to give him room to get up.

  A thought came to him, GC wasn’t really a capoeirista. He knew some techniques of the roda, enough to pass, but he hadn’t attempted anything advanced. Of course, neither had Kest, the chance of a miss that landed him inside of grappling range from a more powerful and deadly opponent was a barrier, but ... he wouldn’t be expecting anything. What would he be looking for?

  Another front kick.

  He probably thinks I believe I missed the target last time .

  “Four minutes Kest,” Amber called from his corner.

  GC got to his feet, moving slow.

  A sham. Let’s pretend we believe....

  Kest took two steps forward, bringing his knee up as though starting a front kick, but instead leapt higher, tucking his head into a front flip, lifting his center of gravity high. He targeted as he spun through the somersault and—using his momentum and weight—he scissor kicked as hard as he could. This was no 'touch the target for points' attack. He’d have to hit hard enough to almost kill a normal person.

  Kest’s foot connected with the top left side of GC’s head, driving it down and to the side.

  Pile driver!

  It snapped GC’s head down. Kest continued descending, his knees crashing into his opponent’s back, knocking him to the floor. Instead of letting go, Kest latched onto GC’s neck in a sleeper hold. “Tap out,” he shouted, knowing the assassin would try to spin into him before Kest could get his hooks around him, but Kest never gave him time. He wrapped him up with a locking figure-four and clamped down on the carotid arteries hard.

  Amber came running over, and peered into the assassin’s eyes. “Don’t let off, he’s still faking, not out yet.”

  Kest hung on. When Amber signaled him, he let off, but didn’t let go.

  Before the ambulance arrived, Kest had to put him out two more times until two of Tiana’s ambulance team strapped the assassin into a stretcher.

  Kest sagged in relief, but jumped to his feet, ready to follow the imprisoned assassin to make sure he didn’t get loose and hurt someone.

  “Easy, tiger,” Amber said, grabbing him in a restraining hug. “Aylie’s got this and Tiana is on her way to the clinic to meet them. Jacksie and Austin are my team too. They’ll take good care of our trussed up little Game Cock. I just hope you didn’t knock all memory of his nefarious employer out of his feeble mind.”

  Kest felt other arms wrapping around him. Calypso and Rogue, followed by all the girls in the roda, and some of the guys, had run up to smother him with congratulations and... bodies.

  “Damn, Kest,” Razor said, voice dry with pretend jealousy. “Leave some for somebody else, would ya?”

  “See what I started,” Amber said, giving him a kiss.

  “Aw geez! Could the seven of you like get a room?” Razor turned to stomp off.

  Kest laughed breathlessly.

  Still alive.

  Chapter 23 — Tough Love

  “We only have a few minutes, Kest,” Ayleana said.

  Kest looked at the form stretched on the hospital bed. IV tubes trailed into the arm and monitors flashed and beeped in a steady rhythm. Officer Dan Laslie looked pitiful and small with an air tube in his throat. It was hard to believe when he was awake and behind a badge that he could cause so much pain and destruction.

  Ayleana had set Alex and an operative from the intelligence team to see what they could find out just spending a few hours digging. It seemed that having a badge and coming from a family with money were potent opportunities for sadistic pastimes.

  As the only victim who could pass judgement, Ayleana had asked Kest to make a decision. If Laslie were awake to be charged with the three counts of rape—that they knew of—the lives of three women and one child would be thrown back into turmoil and fear. And there was more, a long, long list of more.

  Kest reviewed the list, seeing the pages scrolling through his memory, pictures and statements. “He sleeps until there’s a system that can be trusted to try him for his crimes,” Kest said, turning away.

  “And the other?”

  “Yes, Take him out of the gene pool.”

  The bedsheets rustled for a moment and Ayleana appeared at his elbow. Together they walked out of the room and took a nearby stairwell down to the basement and into the parking garage.

  “Is there some way to let those women know he’s not going to wake anytime soon?” said Kest.

  “Not if we want to maintain security and protect our sources.”

  Kest sighed. “I hate that his medical bills will be paid by insurance subsidized by the taxpayers he abused rather than taking the funds from the family who enabled him.”

  Kest twisted his head to look at the sky. A few raindrops pattered on the sidewalk then stopped. It was his last day in the town he’d grown up in. His mom’s apartment was empty, everything she’d wanted kept was packed into a storage unit. He’d said goodbye to the friends who were staying here and to his grandparents. There was nothing left to do.

  “Hwei Yu asked me to bring you by for a special plate of golden mountain tonight. Would you mind?”

  Kest smiled. “The last supper of the prisoners of destiny.” He put his arm around Ayleana’s shoulders. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 24 — A house too far

  The house could not be reached from the beach side. The cliff was too high, too steep, its rocks too loose. Climbing it wasn’t humanly possible. ShwydH knew this to be true, because the security assessment said so. He’d hacked the security company’s files himself to get it, and since ShwydH wasn’t human—no not in the least—so they could be right, though he thought Jonah might be able to do it during the day. But now it was night, a dark and—about to be—stormy one to be exact. The electrical storm on the way would mask the power failure the fortified house would soon experience. The failure of the backup batteries and generator would take the maintenance crew time to sort.

  With both himself and HumanaH beneath the camouflage tarp, it had grown warm. ShwydH was looking forward to crawling out of the makeshift blind and letting the damp sand fall away from his skin. He slid his hand between the tarp and the insulating ground cloth he’d insisted they inclu
de to protect them from lightning strikes and touched HumanaH’s hand. ShwydH was ready to go.

  HumanaH tapped his hand twice in agreement, and ShwydH rolled out from under the cover and spider-crawled to the cliff face.

  HumanaH would remain here, safe between the insulation and the camouflage. If he needed backup, rescue—or his body needed erasing—she would take care of it. HumanaH might be careless of her own safety these days, but she would never leave evidence that would cause her branch sisters problems by confirming the presence of alien life on Earth before it was time.

  Also, she would never hesitate to detonate the explosive ShwydH carried deep inside his body that would level the house and turn everything and everyone within the house’s compound to small pieces. Everyone inside was a parasite anyway to her way of thinking.

  ShwydH wondered if she still thought of him as a parasite after these last four years. At times he suspected he might have convinced her he wasn’t. At times, he wondered himself if he’d left that category. ShwydH bared his teeth in grim humor at the notion. Ayleana would never believe it, that was sure. That was one more reason to do everything in his power to insure HumanaH and Tiana survived the next three hundred years of his remaining lifespan. If Ayleana were the only nii left with the antidote he needed daily to stay alive, ShwydH estimated his chances of long-term survival dropped to perhaps one in ten. Judging by what his life was like now, that would only represent a drop of fifty percent. But ShwydH was used to long odds; he’d always had to fight to improve his chances.

  Five years ago, with DuGwaedH as his master, ShwydH would have estimated his chances at less than one in a hundred. He assayed the human expression of smiling at his amusement. ShwydH believed in practicing.