The Paladin Book 1 Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Friday

December 17th

Rachel sat perched on a nearby rooftop, peering at me in my classroom through a pair of binoculars while she nibbled on a cruller. She had been doing this the past three weeks now, ever since Thanksgiving. I’d start to notice after a while, but I figured that she wanted to be seen, otherwise she wouldn’t have been. A couple minutes into my class she got a text from her employer. Status report, any news on the Paladin? She took a few bites of her cruller, then holding it in her mouth began to respond. Same as the last three weeks, no activity, want me to take him out and move on? The response was nearly instant. No! Can’t have you kill a random kid, not until our plan is in motion, then even he can’t stop us. If he puts on the armor again, take him out, but not until then. That didn’t bother Rachel all too much. If it were up to her then she would have preferred not to get into it with me. Not because she was scared, but more out of her respect for the young man who stood toe-to-toe with her SEAL Team and walked away. Besides, the last couple fights they had with me were more ostentatious than they were used to, and they hadn’t survived as long as they had by being conspicuous.

Meanwhile, in my math class, I twiddled my thumbs and tapped my feet, itching to get out. Ever since quitting being the Paladin I had an excess of energy that I found myself unable to work out. I tried working out, going for runs, biking to school, but I couldn’t shake it. To try and take my mind off it I putzed about on my phone, checking out the latest video game announcements, reading a few online comics when suddenly I got a text. I’m sorry to group-text you all like this but Tres is missing, he wasn’t in bed when I woke up this morning. Please, if you see him, or if he comes to you please tell me! It was from Nancy Knox, I had forgotten that I even had her number. When I read what had happened I hoped and prayed that she found him, Tar City was not the type of place for a young kid to be wandering around alone, especially not in December. The more I thought about it the more it reminded of me when I was in Freshman year. After my brother was confirmed K.I.A. I often would just walk off during school, walk around for a while, thinking. In the end, I always wound up in the same place which is how my parents knew how to find me. Sterling National Cemetery, a military cemetery on the Southside of town. It was a stone's throw away from my house, near the Moss nature preserve. Bingo. Just like that, I knew where he was going. As if on cue the bell rang, signaling the end of the period and by the time it stopped I was already out the door. He’s on the move, cutting class, following him now, Rachel texted, climbing down from her perch.

I tossed the cabbie a twenty and told him to keep the change as I got out onto the hallowed cemetery grounds. The place looked serene, even in Fall when the leaves covered the gravestones, somehow it maintained its majesty. When I walked in I picked out a few lonely widowers, parents, siblings, and children who were mourning at their loved one’s graves, all of them spread out amongst the rows. It took a couple minutes of looking but sure enough at the crest of the hill, there he sat cross-legged in front of a marble headstone, eating a sandwich and applesauce from his lunch box.

“Tres,” I greeted in a friendly tone. He whipped around with a look of fear in his eyes.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“My name is Booker, I’m a friend of your mom’s. I came over a couple weeks ago to talk about your father,” I reminded. He looked down at his feet, his eyes carving into the stone. “Can I sit down?” I inquired.

“I don’t know you, and my mom told me not to trust strangers,” he rationalized. Hard to argue with that logic, especially in Tar City.

“Hmm, okay, I’ll call your mother and she can pick you up,” I offered.

“No! I don’t want mom to come, if you call her I’ll run,” he made clear. Despite the obvious fact that if he ran I could catch him, I didn’t want to resort to carrying a nine-year-old back to his mom kicking and screaming through a military cemetery. I wanted to show a bit more decorum than that.

“Alright, new plan, who else do you trust? Is there anyone I can contact that can vouch for me?” I asked. He scratched his chin, thinking deeply about his answer.

“Paladin, if he says you're okay, then I’ll go with you,” he bargained.

“What?”

“The superhero.”

“Yeah I got that, but why?”

“My mom says not to trust anyone, but she also says he’s a good man. If he says you're okay, I trust him and can trust you,” he explained. I thought over my options for a bit, I could have just called his mother, but I’d been in his shoes before, and I didn’t want to pull the rug out from under him like that. I had a chance to give this kid a little bit of empathy that no one in his life was in the position to give him.

“Paladin, okay, I can do that. I’ll get the Paladin. If I go get him, you promise you’ll be here though, right?” I made sure. He nodded. I sighed, dressing up in the Paladin get up in broad daylight was not a good idea in the first place, but I didn’t see any option I preferred. I jogged off back to my house, sneaking through the backyard to my forge where my armor sat in a duffle bag collecting dust. Within a couple of minutes, I was suited up and had snuck my way back into the cemetery. When Tres spotted me and a shot of excitement ran up his spine like he just saw his… well I guess his favorite superhero. I turned on the voice modulator.

“You’re him!” he exclaimed.

“You’re Tres right?” I asked. He nodded excitedly. “My friend Booker told me you’d be here. Also told me you ran away from home." He nodded once again this time more ashamedly. “You left to visit your dad?” I figured.

“Mom said I couldn’t visit him today, that I had to go to school, and that I can’t be coming here so often,” he confessed.

“This his spot?” I posed.

“Yeah,” he answered glibly. I sat down next to him and he scooched over to make room.

“You know my brother has got a spot here too? His is a bit further down the hill, that way,” I pointed out, gesturing towards the bottom of the hill.

“Did he die in war too?” he asked.

“Yeah, he was in the army like your father. He was also a hero like your father was. They both died protecting what they love,” I made clear.

“My dad was a soldier, he wasn’t a superhero like you,” he muttered indifferently.

“That’s not true. What they do takes just as much courage and is as heroic as anything I do,” I insisted.

“Why did they have to leave us? Why didn’t they just stay? Why did they wanna leave?” Tres questioned, obviously having dwelled on the question a lot. I sighed, not knowing if I had found the answer to that question yet.

“Sometimes it’s not a matter of want. We live in a scary world sometimes Tres, and some people are born with a need to change it. However, if you are gonna change the world a lot of times you have to make sacrifices. Your father, my brother, and everyone else here had to make sacrifices to change the world, they sacrificed to make it a little less scary so that everyone can be happier, not just us. That make sense to you?” I explained.

“I guess,” he agreed with the same glib tone.

“Hey listen, it’s not easy dealing with their sacrifice. It feels like you’re not in control and like the world is out to get you. I understand. But if your father and my brother can be brave enough to give their lives, then I think the least we can do is put on a brave face, and be happy for their sakes. Because I know they wouldn’t want us feeling bad for them, right?” I continued. He nodded in agreement. “Okay, so what do you say? You think if I grab my friend Booker, you two can head back to your mom’s house. I know he’s not as cool as me, but he’s lost someone like us, and I trust him. If you ever need to talk to someone, you should try him,” I suggested.

“What if I wanna talk to you?” he asked. I smiled under my helmet.

“Tell you what, if you wanna talk to me, let him know, he’ll put us in touch. Promise,” I assured, holding up my pinky. He pinky promised and I started to walk away to get changed.

“One thing!” he said before I left. I turned around. “People are saying that you’re done. They haven’t seen you and they are starting to think you quit.”

“And?”

“Have you?” he posed.

“My work’s not done yet?” I replied, walking off to the back of the cemetery where a duffle of my clothes were waiting for me. Do you have a lock on Booker? What’s he up to? Rachel, peered down the crosshairs of an ACOG scope, tracking each step I took with her rifle, considering whether or not to pull the trigger. Nothing, just cutting class, she replied, sliding her phone back into her pocket, and packing up her sniper gear.