The Descendants Series Vol. 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“I’m going out,” I said once we got back to the house.  I headed straight for the back of the back door.

“We just got in,” Grandma said.  “You don’t want to stay here with Lyric?”

“Do you notice what she’s doing right now?” I asked.  Lyric was in Grandma’s arms, sleeping, with her head on her shoulder.

“Okay, fine,” she said.  “Just don’t stay out too long please.  I need to talk to you about something.”

“I won’t,” I said, heading out the back door.

I’d always felt comfortable in the enclosed place the trees made around me, even as a kid.  I went deep into the tress.  It was the only way I could feel like I was away from the world, away from the terror the country had become.  I could relax there, completely free my mind of any thoughts that had been in my head. 

I made my way to the clearing that my dad had found to teach me how to fight.  It was the place where I still felt close to him, like he was always there beside me, guiding me in all that I did.  I could still picture him in my head as he was teaching me.

“Hold it like this,” he would say as he readjusted my grip on one of the knives.  “That way you can throw it well and, if someone were to attack you, your hold would be perfect for a fight.”

He had taught me a lot of things before he had died.  After, I would come here to escape from my mother, who would lie in her bed and cry for days at a time.  Sitting in the clearing, I felt like he was still there beside me, even though I knew I would never see him again. 

After a few more steps, I was in the clearing.  Something felt off, like someone had been or might still be there.  I looked around, but all I saw were all of the trees with marks from my knives.

I heard something move behind me and I turned quickly, but saw nothing but small rays of sunlight coming through the tree tops. 

I tried not to think about it, tried to block everything out, and took the knife at my waist.  As I looked at it, tears sprang to my eyes.  They weren’t tears of sadness, they were tears of anger.  How could everything have come to this?  How could someone allow people to lose their loved ones so tragically and not even feel any emotion?

I clutched the knife in my hand, took a deep breath, and threw it as hard as I could at one of the trees.  I heard it whistle as it flew through the air, and then it thud when it hit the tree trunk.  I felt powerful and in control when I threw it, like I’d be able to take anything – or anyone – down.

I took another deep breath to calm myself down, and then walked over to where the knife was stuck in the tree.  It was in there pretty deep, so it took a second to work it out. But when I turned back around, I stopped dead.

Someone was standing just a few feet away from me.  He was very tall with a muscular build.  My hand tightened on the handle of the knife, ready to throw it if he came any closer.  And even though I hadn’t seen his face before, I knew it was the same guy from town, the one who had been with the other guy who was following me.  I noticed his jacket and the Directrix symbol on the sleeve.

“If you come any closer, I’ll kill you,” I said through my teeth.  My hand tightened around my knife.

“Oh, really?” he asked.  “I’d like to see you try.”

“Why are you even here?  Shouldn’t you be off destroying some other city?  Or are they all gone now, too?”

“I haven’t come to destroy Chicago.  I wasn’t the one who did it the first time.”