Chapter 16

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The officials working under the Pariah named Change brought us back home to my father's house where he was waiting for us on the front step. Ezekiel did not look too pleased seeing the officials, and they did not look too pleased to be there either. My father walked us all over to the cellar where there were tons of dried fish that had been cured with salt. There was enough to last for the full year even though I doubted it would last that long seeing as how the neighbors would also visit when they could not find food. My father was literally the 'village father' despite his young age. He began removing some fish from their racks and placed them in a container as we all observed from near the doorway.

 After bringing the container of fish upstairs, he took some cornmeal and boiled it with okra and made a fish sauce to go along with the salted fish and gave it to us to eat, while packing up more fish to take to the university with us. I used 4536 to call the university bus so that it could pick us up from our location. The driver was planning on coming this direction anyway for food. We made arrangements that he would be there later in the evening, which would give us time to train with my father in the dojo downstairs. I also wanted to put in a short workout in the makeshift gym.

Meanwhile, Maverick and Change were busy helping to build a new cellar with ice that did not melt. Strange as that may seem, it was possible with their powers. Carlos helped as well but I am still confused about what exactly he did. At some point, he told me how he changed the machinery in the cellar to keep it at cold temperatures. Tech Pariah stuff, I guess... After I finished eating, my father took me downstairs where he trained me for a few hours. It was fun and familiar, bringing back old memories of when my father used to teach me all sorts of martial arts for my own protection. We both smiled as we fought, him with his Sai and I with my two guandaos.

You would think with such weapons in my hands, I would easily win, but it was not the case. My father is an amazing fighter and he easily handled me, but I never gave up. I continued to get up and I kept fighting, determined to somehow counter a blow and disable his weapons. Nothing seemed to work, but he did say I was noticeably improving and to keep practicing. One day I would be a greater fighter than he ever was. I just smiled at the thought. I wondered as I often did if my cousin, Jonathan, was just as good. I hadn't seen him for a long time since our fathers were no longer in touch as far as I knew. When we were younger, we used to play fight often. I knew that Jonathan preferred stealth fighting but I preferred open combat. But I had no idea what his fighting style would be like now.

"Listen, son" my father's voice interrupted my thoughts, "I think it's time for you to go. I can hear your ride coming."

"How? I do not hear anything." I replied.

"Not by my ears, son," my father said as he tussled my hair. "Through the ground. If you remain still and listen with your feet, you can feel different vibrations".

"I am starting to think you might be a Pariah, because I do not feel anything," I said with a grin.

"I doubt any one of us will ever have the misfortune of becoming one," he stated.

"Yeah, that's right!" I exclaimed in the hopes of hiding my own shame.

"Well, son, I have something to give you," my father handed me something wrapped in a thick cloth. "Here it is..."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Open it," He replied.

I took the cloth from his hands and began to slowly unravel it until my hands touched a cold metal that shone with a significant beauty. It was a dagger that looked newly made, however it was signed by my great grandfather, his signature etched into the metal. It had to be over fifty years old, but it still glistened like new and its blade looked sharp enough to cut through bone without much effort. I laid my hand on the handle and shifted my weight, stabbing at the air and trying various martial arts stances with the blade in hand. It would be a useful weapon in close combat. I looked at the small dagger again and read something else etched in its side: SOLO CREE.

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