Dedicated
to my sister, Jo Ann, for whom this story would not have been told otherwise
and my loving wife, Loretta, for all those hours rereading and prodding.
Any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental, all characters and places are fictional.
(If you think you’re in it, you’re deluded)
All cover art and text content is the original creation of the owner and all rights are retained by copyright.
What is will be again
Leo’s gaze fell upon the Tiger. It was an unrecognizable smoldering hulk as the fire suppression system had expended the last of its reserves. The thirty-foot long vehicle had a hole nine feet in diameter that encompassed the front right hand corner. The hull was blown cleanly away and the hole covered more than a third of the nose and almost a quarter of the right side as well as a section of the roofline. The caterpillar track on the right side was twisted and broken like an old worn out discarded watchband. The rear left corner was mushroomed out as a peeled banana from the exit of the devastating weapons effect. The interior was completely gutted and burning debris was strewn in all directions but mostly in a path down range in the direction of the hit.
Leo’s gaze was abruptly torn away as someone rolled him onto his back. If the Tiger was dead, he could not be far behind. A convulsion forced a warm fluid out his mouth and it ran down the corners of his lips and along his cheeks into his hair. He knew it was blood but it didn’t matter. A golf ball would have easily passed through the hole in his left upper chest that perforated his body.
Through his glazed eyes he looked into a maroon sky
with pink and orange streaks ripping across it. Deep blue and violet shadows
formed on the underbelly of the high altitude cloud layer that was bathed by
the bright red-giant star’s light that hung low on the horizon.
He gasped for breath but only a slurping sucking sound was reward for his effort. His body was dyeing, but he had no fear. Slowly he entered a So Shin Do trance and as the shimmering sky faded an image formed of a boy that lived a carefree life and had a mind filled with adventures.
FEARSOME
Chapter 1
Boys will be boys
BY
Dean Dodson
Deep inside the pirate's
hideout Leo slithered along the cold moist cave floor, flashlight in hand and
fantasies of pirate treasure about to be liberated on his mind. He loved it
down in the dark dreary mine that once produced small amounts of silver and
copper. It was latter used by the military, during a long past war, to conceal
war secrets and Leo found small tidbits, left behind in the following peace,
which he collected under his bed.
He had never been this deep
before. He was in uncharted territory. In the past he noticed that the tunnels
that were wired with electricity always led to neat stuff and it was a thick
harness he had been following all afternoon. All of his maps were based on
electrical circuits. He would just let the wires lead him where he wanted to
go. All of the main circuits led to main distribution panels near the entrance.
He could recognize the older installations; coax and fiber-optics always led to
dead ends but the old style rigid conduit would lead him to the best of the
treasures.
Most of the treasures at the
ends of the tunnels were moldy reports about air defense deployments during
World War Two, stuff that held little value to anyone except Leo. To him they
were treasures. Sometimes though he would stumble across a forgotten box or
crate. The ones marked “eyes only” were the greatest of all. They were the Holy
Grail of his searching’s. Once he found one marked JFK and passed it over when
he couldn’t open it.
Today he had high hopes of
coming across something special. He came to an intersection and his light
flickered. The high intensity LED, Light Emitting Diode, lamp was guaranteed
for life and the power cell was lithium ion with a 2000-hour life. The hour
counter indicated only eight hundred used. He continued down the tunnel
following the cabling as he updated his map programmed into his handheld
visa-view. His light abruptly went off and he was in total darkness. A rush of
fear shot through his body, he had been stuck in the dark before and it wasn’t
a pretty sight. This time he had his radio and his visa-view. When he checked
them they were dead as well.
He reached out with his
right hand and found the wall of the tunnel and placed his left hand on it
turning around. He felt pretty sure that he was facing the way he came. He took
one step and his light and other equipment powered back up. He heard about
strong magnetic fields killing devices before in science class. He turned
around again and slowly pushed his visa-view along in front of him until it
went dead again. He probed along the mouth of the tunnel. It was like a vale
that would not let him pass.
He shined his light as far
as he could distinguish into the darkness. The 70,000-candle power was welcome
at times like this. Just at the edge of the beam of his light something
glistened. Definitely metallic. Leo couldn’t resist the call of his treasure.
He placed the light on the ground and aimed the beam in the direction of the
metal form. The first step was the hardest one to make, even for pirates.
He didn’t really have a clue
as to what was waiting for him in the darkness. He saw mostly nothing in the
old mine but dusty tunnels but there was
the bottomless pit near the entrance. He froze. A blast of adrenaline shot
through him and he almost ran for the safety of the light. He used So Shin Do
mind control technique to control his fear. As he relaxed he noticed a glow
coming from behind his treasure. His curiosity got the best of him and he
headed towards the dim glow. As he approached it he could make out a filing
cabinet as his target and the glow seemed to come from the cabinet itself. He
reached for a handle and the glow radiated from within the top drawer. He slid
it open and a bright light escaped, pushing the darkness aside. It took several
seconds for his eyes to adjust to the brightness. A set of folders was
highlighted for his attention. He grabbed up the files and stuffed them into
his booty bag. At the first touch the strange light ceased. In the distant
total darkness of the mine he could hear, no, feel a powerful humming. He had
never detected any sounds other than the ones he made before. There definitely
were more secretes concealed beyond his reach that was cloaked in the
impenetrable dark. It made for a formidable deterrence.
On a hot, sweltering summer
day in the desert of California the dust hung heavy in the air as the sun
lightly touched the horizon and cast long shadows across the air base's housing
complex. A tall slender blond went to
the front door of her humble abode. She leaned on the doorway and gazed out at
the uniform, modular houses of the modest officers quarters. The only movement
was the dust carried on the lazy breeze. She opened the screen slightly,
smelling the hot, dry atmosphere, and thought to herself. This dry air is turning my skin into a lizard’s. She had been young
once. But that was before her last birthday. Now she was only mature. She could
still hear her son saying so. There was a new wrinkle at the corner of her eye
to prove it. She didn’t mind her life. Though at times like this, she would
fantasize about what her life would have been had she followed her career
instead of her husband’s. Hell, in this environment she might as well have been
in the Gobi desert digging up artifacts.
She called out, "Leo,
dinner's ready!" She paused, not really expecting a response and called
again, "Leo...dinner!" She
waved the dust from the air. She thought to herself. That boy, he's out of pocket again. She feared she would go mad if
school didn’t start soon. Returning to her work, in the small brightly
decorated kitchen that she worked so hard to liven up, she turned the almost
ready potatoes. Through the steam, from the glass pot, she checked the large
silver clock hanging above the halogen cooking surface and realized her husband
was going to be late again, as usual. He kept such long hours. But she understood
the pressures of required performance and being faced with deadlines. Her
father pushed her so hard when she was in school, the thought of failing was
simply not accepted as a possibility. That seamed long ago now. And to think
she was wasting a Master’s degree. Her father would turn over in his grave if
he knew. She stirred the potatoes again. She finished at the top of her class
and really expected to continue and earn her P.H.D. But then her new husband
received his orders to the Middle East. The stress proved too much so she
dropped out of the program.
Irritated, she traversed the room to the base-station radio set
that sat on the small table in the corner. Her son and husband built the radio
together during one of the rare slow-downs at the flight test center. Larra
switched the frequency control to channel fourteen. While letting the
transceiver warm up, Larra checked that all the settings were correct, the boys
gave her such a rash when she didn't get it right. Larra keyed the microphone, "Base
one, mobile two. Base one, mobile two." After no reply she turned the
squelch down to a minimum. The set crackled and hissed as she keyed the
microphone once more, "Base one, mobile two. Base one, mobile two respond
please." Listening to the erratic popping from the speaker, negative
thoughts raced through her mind. Base security had been very blunt about the
consequences if her son were caught in a restricted area again.
From outside came the
whaling sound of an ambulance and Larra could almost see her son in the back
rapped in bandages from head to toe. The siren slowly drifted out of earshot.
Rapidly losing her patience,
she griped the microphone firmly and almost shouted, "Base one to mobile
two, respond young man!" Only the screeching radio answered her call.
Staring thoughtfully at the speaker she mumbled to herself. “If that boy is out on the missile range
again I'll kill him myself, if some jet jock doesn't do it for me. Well, he's
probably down at that old mine. If I've told him once I've told him a thousand
times.”
In a last ditch effort to make contact Larra cranked the RF gain
to the peg and keyed the microphone one final time. Speaking in her always
clear, educated tone, she strained not to yell, "Leo, if your down at that
mine you’ll be grounded for a week. You have got ten minuets to get your
empennage home for dinner."
She left the table and proceeded with the ritual of preparing
dinner, she counted the seconds. Once the ten minuets were exhausted she
returned to the radio. This time she went for broke and switched on the
thousand watt linear booster.
The thought crossed her mind, that even if the signal didn't reach
him under-ground then at least the people in Mexico and half of the Reformed
United States of America would know one ten year old boy was in big trouble.
Suddenly the hand held
transceiver on his belt squawked to life. "Leo, if your not home in five
minuets you'll think your butt is in napalm after I'm through with you and I'll
call the M.P.'s... You remember what your father said he would do the next time
that happens. Base one, out."
Leo finished arranging his
gear exclaiming, "Oh-my-gosh! Mom's gunna' kill me for sure!"
He ran all the way to the
mine entrance throwing caution to the wind at the bottomless pit where his
trusty, rusty bicycle awaited his return. In his own mind even if he had fallen
into the pit it would have been a quicker end to his impending judgment. During
one of his earlier expeditions Leo kicked a piece of electrical conduit over
the edge of the pit and never heard the expected clang at the bottom and there
after he was convinced that there was no bottom at all. There was evidence of
an elevator hoist and it surely must have been the express ride to hell. Leo
pedaled at full speed across the desert sands. It was most of an hour before he
arrived in front of his home panting and gasping for breath.
As he climbed off his bike
he heard the approach of a flight of jets turning on final. Because of the
screaming scramjets passing over head he could only see his angry mothers lips
move as he climbed the few steps to the porch. Boy was he glad.
Leo had his mother’s eyes
and his father’s face. His dirty hair was usually a light blonde but now
covered with the dank mine’s dust it was a dirty brown, the same color as his
father’s.
Once inside, his mother
demanded, "Well Lt. Fearsome, just where have you been?"
Looking down at the sheepish
little boy she could see a miniature version of her husband looking back at
her. Her mood lightened only slightly.
"I...I
tried to call in but there's something wrong with my unit." He croaked in
reply.
"Uh hu...well, lets
take a look." She said with a suspicious glare.
"Well...I...I
took it over to Jim's and we fixed it over there." He said, looking down
at the floor in fear that his ruse would be seen in his guilty face.
"We'll see what your
father thinks of your bull-lony story. Now get in that bathroom and get cleaned
up for your cold dinner.
"Perhaps you'd rather
spend the next few days working around the house."
“Oh Mom.” Leo said, knowing
he deserved more than just a few days for his disobedience. He went to the
bathroom to check out his haul for the day and maybe wash his hands.
At that moment the visa-view chirped its singsong tones. The
proximity sensor diligently watched for someone to come to the machine and when
Larra did, the image of Leo's father flickered into a bright high-resolution
picture.
Lt. Colonel Johnithan Fearsome was a gentle but commanding six
foot three inch, two hundred forty ponder with light sandy brown, curly hair
cut to regulation. His handlebar mustache was the constant center of harmless
teases. In addition to being the Armed Forces Martial Arts heavyweight
champion, he was the senior test pilot for the Air Force of the Reformed United
States and also the most highly decorated combat pilot of the “Rag Head” wars
of the 2020's.
"Hi love, just called
to tell you I'll be late so don't hold dinner."
"Oh, thanks for the
early call. It's already stone cold."
"I'm sorry dear, I got
tied up in a briefing. You know, sometimes I wonder if Donnols is trying to
kill the program."
"It's okay really.
Leo's been a pill all day. Boy, will I be glad when school starts again."
She brushed her soft hair from her face reviling the strong yet lovely
portrait.
"Yah, I bet.”
“What do you mean about
killing the program? You all have worked so hard.” Her brow wrinkled in
thought.
“Oh, I don’t know. He just
throws wrenches into the works sometimes. Hay, I have to go...oh, that reminds
me. General Donnols wants us to go over to their house tomorrow night for
cards."
"We sure are lucky they
don't mind being beaten continuously. What time?" She said with a chuckle.
"He said about nineteen
hundred."
"Okay, love you,
bye." Larra said longingly.
"Bye, now."
Johnithan saluted her as if she were the Chief of Staff.
Larra turned from the
visa-view to find Leo standing behind her, face still grimy. "Well, Mom
looks like it's just you and me for food again."
"Get in there and wash
that face, you silly thing." She shook her head as she watched Leo hurry
into the bathroom and wondered who he would become with so much mischief at
hand.
Leo examined the papers he
obtained at the mine. Several old style photos showed pilots that were involved
in a secrete mission. The lead pilot was Wade Fearsome. He was standing next to
an XB-70, high speed and long range test bed and was in full flight gear. This must have been in the nineteen sixties.
No Fearsomes showed up on his X-plane pilot list other than his father, Leo
knew them all by heart going all the way back to the Bell X-1. Aviation trivia
was one of his and John’s favorite past times. He would have to look at this
stuff in more detail later.
In hanger eighteen Lt.
Colonel Fearsome and Major Randy (Rod) Phillips inspected the new top secret,
prototype fighter code name "Have Hammer". The air
superiority/anti-satellite orbital vehicle's design specification centered on
the ability to take-off and land on standard, National Aerospace Plane, twenty
thousand-foot runways. It would cruse at Mach four with dash speeds up to Mach
six below ten thousand feet and Mach twenty-six plus at high altitude with
low-earth orbit capability.
The operational atmospheric
range on internal hydrogen-slurry fuel was four thousand miles plus optional
weapons bay tanks to extend the atmospheric range to seven thousand miles.
Duration in orbit was not to exceed forty-eight hours. Payload was to include
all inventory missiles capability.
The Colonel caught up with Rod after the day’s successful mission.
He had been unable to attend the post flight briefing due to the meeting with
the General. His interest was more than curiosity; he had a need to know.
"Major, how about a summery on your post flight report?" The Colonel
asked.
"Yes Sir. All
prescribed objectives were accomplished without any failures to perform. The
thrust vectoring programming change you ordered increased efficiency by five
percent." The Major replied.
"Thanks, Rod how did it
help with takeoff roll?"
"I'm not sure. Do you
want me to get a report from telemetry control?"
"No, I'll do it myself.
You coming to the tournament in the morning? It's my son's brown belt
test." Johnithan said with that sparkle in his eye only a father has.
"And besides I need someone in my corner for the exhibition match."
"Wouldn't miss it John.
Are we through here?"
"I don't see why not.
O' eight thirty at the coliseum?"
"I'll be there Colonel.
What happened with General Donnols today? He looked like a well fed shark when
he left."
“I’m not sure myself. He
ordered me to audit the prime contractor again and to not proceed with flight
testing until it was complete.” John said with a shrug.
“What does he expect you to
find? I’ve never worked with a better group. They’re under budget and ahead of
schedule but not for long if he keeps this crap up. I don’t know how you’ve
kept this program rolling.”
“And they’ll stay that way
if I have anything to do with it. I’m on my way over there now to get the audit
started tonight. I have some over-time money left over from Phase One I was
saving for a rainy day. With luck, we’ll be back in the air by next month.”
“He’s not on that material
contamination thing again is he?” Rod asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No, I put that wild goose
to bed once and for all with the X-ray diffraction analysis results. Even he
couldn’t question double blind results from five different labs.”
“What a bull dog.” Rod said
shaking his head.
“Easy there pard. He is in
command and I’d hate to have to bust you for insubordination.” Johnithan looked
over his shoulder as if watching for a spy.
“Yah, that would blow. On second thought, would I get out of the
audit oversight duty?” Rod saluted sharply and hurried out of the hanger walk
through door.
Johnithan didn’t bother to
answer. He returned the salute and shook his head with a smile. “Your
dismissed, Major.” Johnithan could not figure out what the General would gain
if the Have Hammer program were to be canceled. The general had nothing to
lose, his position was secure, but how could he profit from it? The whole
situation didn’t make any sense. Fearsome on the other hand would suffer
dearly. The program was his responsibility and if heads were going to roll from
failure it would be his first. John finally said out loud. “Over my dead body.”
John loitered in the hanger
like a hungry wolf appreciating the awesome aircraft looming over him as though
it were his pray. He anticipated the time when the flight envelope would be
expanded to the point that it would be his turn to reach out to the stars and
take the Hammer trans-atmospheric at last. But alas, that was still nine months
on the development schedule. The disappointed pilot booted the nose gear tire
as he left for home and his loving wife and son. As he departed he turned for
one last look.
The Have Hammer's graceful,
tail-planeless sloping lines of the fuselage appeared to have no cockpit canopy
and mated with a thirty six foot, variable geometry wing span that telescoped
to a full fifty feet for low speed maneuverability. Devious looking active
canards on the nose gave it the look of a huge bat with fangs as the small
forward wings drooped down slightly. Twin low drag, variable geometry intake
nacelles flowed to the two, eighty thousand pound output, axial-flow
hydrogen-slurry, turbo scram-jet engines and were coupled to wide angle thrust
vectoring nozzles. The plane was coated in a stealthy, three tone gray
camouflage and was a beautiful yet frightening site to behold. The four
internal weapons bays provided an ample supply of carnage capability.
John shook his
head and thought as he turned to leave, Man,
I'd hate to be on the receiving end of that. He knew that no machine could
fully makeup for a poorly trained pilot but with this plane even a cadet could
expect to give an F-22 handled by a veteran a run for his money and with the
same veteran it would be unmatched in the skies.
That night Leo studied his liberated goods in earnest.
There wasn’t much on the pilot named Fearsome or of the others for than matter.
Inside the reports it described how the Air Force covered up the crash of an
XB-70 making it look as though it was an accident during a photo shoot. An
F-104 Starfighter was caught in the currents surrounding the XB-70 and sucked
up over the back, spun around one hundred eighty degrees and smashed into the
center of the right wing, tearing off both vertical stabilizers and damaging
the left wing tip as well. After several seconds of struggle to maintain
control of the doomed plane it departed into a flat spin and only one of the
pilots was able to eject just seconds before impact. But what really happened
was an aircraft that was never photographed caused the crash. Witnesses
described an aircraft of unknown design using some kind of weapon on it causing
a mechanical failure. It was the only airframe to be totally lost but the
program was quietly shut down and forgotten. It was the first time Leo came to
understand that the government would do just about anything to hide the truth.
He knew the stories about Roswell and Area 51. They were legend but now they
seem to hold some truth. It was fun to think that his family had a connection
to those legends.
Leo practiced
his katas every day in hopes of advancing to the brown belt in Tae Kwon Do. The
judging panel would test very hard a young boy trying for such a high degree
position. He also knew that he had to defeat an opponent in combat to prove he
had mastered the techniques of that level. For a full hour after every workout
he meditated on style and conquest for future success and mental centering.
John taught Leo the path of the So Shin Do technique
of meditation from the time Leo first showed interest in martial arts. Leo
demonstrated control few ever attained even after years of study. John learned
the So Shin Do path when he had toured in South East Asia from a Master of the
lost art. As far as John knew he and his son were the last of the So Shin Do
practitioners. In the way of the So Shin Do, masters would reach levels of
consciousness that entered the realms of the paranormal. The technique was a
combination of ancient Taoist yogic breathing, mediation and exercise methods
with emphasis on acupressure patterns to direct bio-energy, but more than that
it was a method of directing that energy with conscious intent of the spirit.
Part of its very name means spirit way in Japanese. Its roots dated to over
five thousand years and was believed to have been developed in secrete
monasteries in Japan during the feudal pasts when Shogun ruled and only his
philosophies were excepted and all others were criminal acts against the state,
being caught practicing meant sure death. As a result the art was hidden and
fell into obscurity passed down through family lines until the path led to the
Fearsomes. The technique saved John’s bacon on many occasions during combat and
test flights when superior concentration meant the difference between life and
death. The ability to focus his mind while pulling G’s so high that other
pilots would blackout allowed him to outmaneuver his foes sending them to their
fiery deaths or regain control of experimental aircraft after it separated from
its flight path and overcome other deadly conditions that threatened him.
The next morning Leo and
John were up early going over advanced maneuvers for Leo's fight and doing yoga
exercises to extend his flexibility. John was amazed how quickly Leo learned
and knew he was a one in a million natural. Leo seemed to learn through
osmoses, he only needed to see a technique demonstrated once and he could
reproduce it with almost perfect precision. It had taken John most of five
years to reach the brown belt and now Leo was about to obtain his in less than
three.
It was already warm and the
sun was just beginning too bath the base in golden light when Larra called the
boys for breakfast. She prepared Leo’s favorite pancakes made with blueberries
and cashews. Leo invented them when Larra had been in the hospital for minor
surgery. At the table, Leo was very quite and removed. John watched his son
quietly pick at his pancakes. John had no trouble remembering his first really
important competition in his second year at the academy.
The gymnasium was packed with cadets and the sounds of excitement
echoed off the whitewashed walls. Everywhere John turned someone was yelling
for him to knock the other guy's block off. John hadn't wanted to fight his
instructor but when his Captain discovered John had held a black belt for five
years the Captain forced him into a demonstration match. Now that John was in
the ring he was determined to win. John was in his prime and his instructor was
several years older but had been competing for a very long time. After the dust
had settled both fighters were in pain and exhausted but no one had won
decisively, it marked the beginning of John's amateur fighting career and was a
very important transitional point in his life.
John broke the silence,
"We'd better eat light, don't you think Champ?"
"Yes Sir, I don't want
to be weighted down." Leo said as he traced an intricate hand technique in
the air.
"You still need your
nourishment even if you are super mutant ninjas from outer space." Larra
said with a smile.
"Oh, Mom." The
boys chorused in harmony.
“Hay Dad, you ever hear of a
pilot named Wane Fearsome?”
“Sure that was your Great
Grandfather.”
“What did he do?”
“He flew SR-71’s and TR-1’s
for the CIA.”
“Wasn’t the TR-1 similar to
a U-2?”
“That’s right.”
“The SR-71 was that really
fast one, wasn’t it? The Blackbird I think.”
“Mach 3.5 cruse.” John held
his hand out and Leo slapped it.
“Did he ever fly the XB-70?”
“Oh, you mean the North
American Aviation, Valkyrie. Man, what a plane. It was designed as a high-speed
long-range bomber. Cost the Russians plenty. They developed the Mig-25 just to
counter it. Then we ended up not even fielding the damn thing. Honey,” He
turned to his wife. “It had wing tips that folded down sixty five degrees at
high speed to produce compression lift so that it could fly at higher
altitudes. Let’s see, first flight was in…1964 and last flight was in 1969. It
had the best lift to drag ratio of anything designed up to that time. It was
the first plane to cruse at mach 3, publicly anyway.”
Larra just nodded her head
as she tended the pancakes. She rarely heard the details of the lessons on
aviation history. Not that she didn’t care, she had just heard it all before at
one time or another.
John looked at his son
wondering where he was getting those questions. “I don’t remember Wane ever
being involved with development programs. But he could fly anything with wings.
It was said that he flew the 747 carrying the Space Shuttle once when the real
pilot got sick. Now why he was even on the plane to begin with is a mystery.”
“That’s not the only one.”
Leo said as the family got up from the table to leave.
“You’ll have to tell me
about it some time.” John rubbed his boy’s hair.
Leo wasn’t ready to confess
his ventures into restricted areas again.
The family soon left for Los
Angeles where the tournament was to be held. John made sure that his shotgun
was loaded and locked in its slot along the driver’s door of the dark brown
electric van. The shotgun traveled any time the family did. There had been a
recent increase in insurgents from the south and the gangs were stepping up hit
and run strikes along the highways leading into L.A. and a Fearsome wasn't
going to go down without a fight.
The ride in the electric
cruiser was smooth and quite with only the soft hum of the motors and
occasional bump in the ceramic road. There was no way of knowing when they left
one city limit and entered another because it was solid with buildings the entire
distance from Edwards Air Force Base to L.A.
From the back seat Leo
watched as the scene scrolled by. In the distance he could see several gun-ship
helicopters circling an area hosing it with rapid fire cannons. Only after a
bellowing cloud of black smoke rose above the skyline, did the choppers cease
their attack.
"Those dirt bags won't
be so cocky next time. Will they Leo?" The Colonel said looking at his son
in the rear view mirror.
"No doubt." Leo
could almost feel the stick in his hands as he envisioned himself strafing the
gang hoards.
As they pulled into the
packed multi-level civic center parking lot, Leo got a strong rush of
adrenaline that sent a chill up his spine that was triggered by the thought of
reaching his hard sought goal. They spiraled up to the top level where they
found a parking slot and joined the crowd that was funneling across the
sky-bridge into the coliseum. The coliseum gleamed like a giant pearl in the
mid-morning sun. This event was one of the biggest in California and was a good
place to see the top competition for the different championships, even though
there were no titles on the line.
Leo and John had
pre-registered via the Internet so they only needed to check in with the judges
and obtain their locker numbers then change into their uniforms. The locker
room was packed with males of all ages who had come from all over California to
test their skills and become ranked in the national listings. Leo was at the
far end of the huge locker room and couldn’t even see his father as he slipped
into his traditional costume that bore his family logo across the back. The
logo was made up of an open hand over a closed fist forming the top of a
triangle, the arms sloped down forming two sides with a staff making the third
side across the bottom, an eye between brain hemispheres was in the center of
the triangle. He recognized some of the other people from the events he had
attended in the past. He tipped his head with respect as he made eye contact
with those that showed recognition. Leo made his way to the kata test mats and
could hear the crowds respond to the exhibition fights that were being carried
out on the upper level of the coliseum, that was where John would be by now
working through the elimination portion of the day’s activities. If Leo passed
the kata test he would go there next as well.
After waiting behind a long
line of students that grew longer throughout the day Leo finely met his judge.
The short Asian women looked at him with a frown of doubt as she examined his
test request. Her hair was pinned in a bun atop her head and she wore a belt
that was black with four white slashes at the ends. Leo bowed deeply to her and
she returned it with a shallow tip of her head and called out the katas in
order of progression. When Leo had performed the last required style she
ordered him to demonstrate the different kicks and punches in a series that
started with the simple to the advanced. Before she stopped she had progressed
into techniques that were delving into the levels of the black belt. She hardly
seemed impressed that Leo never faltered even when taxed beyond the required
techniques. Sweat streamed down Leo’s face and he was sucking air past his
teeth laboriously. Without warning she declared him passed the kata test and
placed an adhesive backed sticker on his uniform that allowed him access to the
combat test and the upper level of the coliseum. Leo looked at her in surprise
and she bowed deeply and smiled at him as though she was his best friend, at
that point she surly was.
Johnithan advanced through
the elimination bouts without harm and Leo was surprised to learn that three
hours had passed sense he had left the musk smell of the locker room. Larra
congratulated Leo on his effort and reminded him of the next step to his brown
belt. “You looked good out there kid. Do you think you’re up to the combat
test?”
“He can handle a fifteen
rounder. Can’t ya boy.” Rod said as he punched Leo on the shoulder.
“Hay, Uncle Rod!” Leo
shouted with a confident grin. Leo wasn’t as sure as his face portrayed. His
feet felt like lead weights and his hands were like bricks.
“You’ll be fine Son.” John
said as if he had read Leo’s mind. He knew exactly how Leo felt, he had been
there many times before.
They took a break for launch
and ate light and drank water to keep their strength and fluids in the green.
After which Johnithan sat Leo down and talked him into a trance like
meditation.
Leo found himself in
a cool lake with blue waters that supported him like an air mattress. As the
light waves of refreshing coolness lapped across him his fatigue faded until he
was totally at rest and had slept a full night’s worth. Just as suddenly
cumulus clouds gathered and continued to build and he drew strength from them.
Soon the clouds were a ragging storm and with every strike of lighting Leo
became more powerful until it seemed as though he could defeat an army single
handedly.
When
Leo opened his eyes he could hear the throngs of people around him and was
almost surprised to find them there. “How do you feel?” John asked him. It was
time for Leo’s combat test and the judge was motioning him to his staging
circle on the mat.
“Great,
thanks Dad.”
“Get
em, Leo!” Rod said.
“Be
careful Honey.” Larra said as she hugged him.
“Oh
Mom.” Leo’s cheeks turned a bright red.
John strapped Leo's gloves and pads on while trying to keep his
son's attention off the other boy, who snarled every time Leo looked over.
Leo’s state of relaxation started to slip away as his surroundings soaked in.
He tried to control his anxiety but all he could see was the boy across the
mat, the way he spat into a bucket and wiped his chin with the back of his
hand. He looked mean. Leo became so nervous that the world seemed to close in
around him as he stepped onto the mat. The moment of truth for Leo had arrived
and he had to defeat the large, tough looking young man that stood at arm’s
length. He was about to explode with anxiety as he waited for the judge to step
onto the mat. The blood rushing through his ears was all that he could hear as
the judge began the match.
The taller, more mature boy
made the first move with a front kick at eye level followed by an advancing
back-fist, reverse punch combination.
Leo parried the kick,
sidestepped the fisted attack and countered with a spinning back-kick, which
landed in the ribs of the other boy. Leo was scored a full point and they
returned to middle court.
Apparently unaffected by the
blow to his side, the young man resumed his attack upon the signal from the
judge to start. He threw a series of over hand strikes with lighting speed, one
of which landed and brought a flood of bright red blood streaming from Leo's
nose. He was awarded a full point.
John had to hold Larra back
to keep her from stepping across the white line that marked the out-of-bounds
to help her son.
"If I weren’t a lady
I'd slap a hair lip on that bully!" She said as she covered her eyes.
John just smiled and said.
"Yah, he's damn lucky he's not fighting you." Rod held back an urge
to laugh.
The doctor was called out to
determine if the match could continue. After examining Leo vary closely and
being able to stop the bleeding he decided to let them resume their contest.
Leo stooped to adjust his
shin pad and catch his breath.
His father told him.
"Leo, it's okay. Center yourself. Don't let him hit you like that again
and everything will be fine."
Leo thought that was about
the dumbest thing he had ever heard. He remembered the time back at their work
out room when he had gotten too cocky and his dad had knocked his head off and
he had just fought that much harder. This time was no different and this guy
was a lot smaller than his father.
"Kick his butt
Leo!" Rod yelled shaking his fist.
With his newfound
determination he stepped back onto the mat with a round of cheers from the
crowd.
The judge gave the signal to
begin and Leo attacked with a ridge-hand strike followed by a reverse punch.
His attack was effectively fended off. Leo continued the assault with a
stepping sidekick that put his opponent off balance. Leo pressed forward with a
front leg snap-kick that caught the other boy out of position and connected so
hard Leo thought he had broke his foot, instead it had broken his adversary's
jaw. The boy was laid out on the mat as the doctor made his examination and
stopped the match. Leo was given a full point for scoring the hit making his
total score two to one, which gave him victory and his new belt. There was a
mix of positive yells and boo’s coming from the crowd as the judge raised Leo’s
hand above his head. Leo bowed to the judges and the other boy’s family who had
rushed to his aid then jumped high into the air with elation.
Larra ran from her seat and
grabbed her son with loving affection and said to him, "Are you all right
Leo? I'm so proud of you. You'll eat steak tonight."
Tears formed in John's eyes
as he opened his mouth to speak but only croaking sounds emerged. He roughed up
his boy's hair as he hugged him hard enough to make Leo gasp for air.
"Thanks Mom, Dad, I
love you both so much." Leo said softly.
With the excitement of Leo's
accomplishment behind them they pulled together for their next challenge. The
military had sponsored martial competition for years in an effort to bring ever
more aggressive recruits into the ground forces as a result many members of the
military were active in all levels of amateur and professional contact sports.
Most of the lead ranking, martial arts competitors were also combat veterans on
active duty.
John's most dangerous
opponent was Gary Cortez, a NCO in the Special Forces who had virtually walked
through all of his adversaries. Gary was known in all of the cyber news as the
“One to watch”. He was ruthless. Fans referred to him as a practitioner. He had
studied around the globe and enjoyed displaying his exotic forms. He was more
than a stand up fighter or a wrestler or a martial artist, he was an expert by
every definition in the book. He had run out of serious competition in the pro
circles and found artist in the amateur leagues. Fearsome was his next target.
Their match would be the last one and the highlight of the tournament.
Rod made his way through the
other competitors and spectators to congratulate Leo and to help psych-up John.
"Hey, well executed moves kid!" Rod rubbed Leo's head knocking Leo's
hair into his face. Rod turned to John. "You ready to punish that army
flatfoot?"
Rod had known the Fearsomes
ever sense the last “Rag Head” war and was John’s wingman during that time. He
was of medium build and had a boyish face that made him look much younger than
he really was. His short premature graying hair always looked like it needed
combing and would have been quite curly if it were aloud to grow out.
John said without even the
slightest amount of apprehension. "I intend to make him whine all the way
back to Fort Bening."
"Sergeant Cortez has
requested Freestyle rules. You going to go with it Colonel?"
"Why not?" He
shrugged his shoulders.
"Why not? Why not? I'll
tell you why not. That guys a killer. He might fight by the rules but he won't
hesitate to use dangerous locks or holds. What if he breaks a bone? How will
you fly then?"
"Look Rod, I've had
some two hundred matches in the last fifteen or so years and not all of them
fought fair. I can take care of myself. Okay?"
"Just be careful
Colonel." He put a concerned hand on John's shoulder showing the
friendship that went back to the days of the “Rag Head” wars. It wasn't the
first time Rod had seen the Colonel take risks. Back when they fought together
in Syria, John was known as the "Man of Flame" because he refused to
disengage from the enemy until his plane was either burning or the enemy's was.
Needless to say, John kept Air and Sea Rescue busy on a regular basis.
"I thought you were
supposed to get me charged up not burn me out."
Rod shrugged his shoulders.
"Since when do you need anyone to light your fire?"
John punched Rod on the
shoulder with an affectionate tap.
The public address system
boomed the announcement of the main event. "Ladies and gentlemen the
moment we've all been waiting for is about to begin. This is a non-title bout
scheduled for three regulation rounds. The three knockdown rule applies. Much
to the enjoyment of all, this is a Freestyle contest. Will the competitors
please report to your assigned corners?"
John headed toward the main
event ring with an air of confidence. Larra held Leo back as she let her
husband go striding through the crowd without them. She always had the need to
be separated from him at least physically when he took risks with his health.
She knew there was nothing she could do to stop him and she was more afraid to
try. She could easily remember the pit in her stomach the day he shipped out on
his first combat tour of duty and the lecture she had received when she tried
to get him to retire his commission. She could also see how much Leo was
becoming like his father and wouldn’t risk the pain to change it.
Once in the ring the
introductions were commenced. "In the blue corner. Weighing in at an even
two hundred forty pounds. The two-time Armed Forces Heavyweight Champion with
twenty-five consecutive knockouts for a total of sixty-six wins, two draws, no
losses. Lieutenant Colonel Johnithan Fearsome!" The crowd roared with
approval and there was a long pause waiting for the crowd to settle.
"In the red corner
weighing in at two hundred thirty seven pounds, founder of Praying Mantis
Kenpo, five time National Amateur Heavyweight Champion, Two Thousand Twenty
five Olympic Gold Medallist with an impressive amateur record of one hundred
fifty five wins, no draws, no losses. Staff Sergeant Gary "The Dark
One" Cortez.” Again the crowd exploded in waves of inpatient expectation.
The two warriors met briefly
at center ring long enough to receive the typical explanation of rules by the
judge which neither of them heard, and a quick bow to each other and the
judges. They stepped back, faced off and the match was on.
The first round passed
without much action both men cautiously sizing the other up. Fainted and pulled
faked moves attempting to draw the other into a mistake filled the seconds. The
crowd sat in silence holding their collective breath waiting to see who would
fall into the trap first. When the bell rang closing the round a loud gasp
filled the coliseum.
The second round however was
much different. The bell rang and Cortez almost ran to Fearsome's corner
growling like an animal and attacked with a furious volley of kicks and
punches.
Fearsome parried and blocked
until Cortez left himself open to a counter-punch, which snapped his head back
showering the audience seated within five rows with sweat and blood from above
his eye.
Modern civilization was not
that much different than those of ancient Rome or any of the other blood
thirsty cultures and these people were very hungry. They leaped from their
seats almost diving in competition for the blood that sprang forth.
Undaunted Cortez came back with an elbow that made it through John's defenses to his Solar Plexus that knocked the breath and his mouthpiece out. Cortez continued to pound Fearsome until the bell finally saved him.
Fearsome staggered back to
his corner breathing laboriously. "Man, he almost knocked me out." He
said gasping for air. Sweat poured from every pore as he fought for control of
his body through the pain.
"I see that.
Swallow." Rod commanded as he squirted water into John's mouth.
"Don't let him get inside you, he's using Kenpo so watch out for more of
those inside elbows and knees. Now get him!" He slapped John on the back.
"I think I'm getting to
old for this shit." John said as he stood to return to battle.
The bell rang and again The
Dark One met Fearsome on his own ground slamming every hand, foot, elbow or
knee he could into John.
Just when it looked like it
was all over, the champion in Fearsome came to life. John stepped through a
doorway in his mind and the world took the back seat as he handed back with
each gloved fist payment in full for that which was distributed across his
body. He was making a historic comeback. John could see in slow motion,
Cortez’s hand met his wrist at exactly matched velocity, and remained in contact
as he recoiled. John was only aware of the contact because of his heightened
senses. He was powerless to break the hold and the resistance that wasn’t
there. It was as if Cortez had fused himself to Johnithan and when the force
reached an apex he found himself flying over the top rope out of the ring and
crashing into the mob of people that had (luckily for him) rushed the ring in
hysterical jubilation.
Rod thought John was injured
in the fall and threw in the towel ending the match. As the blood stained terry
cloth left his fingers he knew he had made the wrong choice.
John rolled to his feet with
fluid motion, infuriated with Rod's action, and stormed over to where Rod,
Larra and Leo waited.
"What did you think you
were doing?" John roared at Rod, who took several steps back while Larra
moved between them.
"Now John, calm down!
We all thought you were too injured too continue." Larra pleaded in
defense of Rod.
"I'll see you all at
the cruiser." John said, coming down slightly from his rage. He turned away
and stomped off.
"Hey, old man, want to
finish this now or wait for the Armed Forces Championship." Gary called to
John with a laughing sneer.
"Up yours, ass
hole!" Leo yelled back and gestured a crude sign language with his hand.
"Leo!" Larra
scolded.
Rod gave Leo the thumbs up
when Larra wasn't looking. And Leo returned the signal to Rod.