As always Vote, Comment and thank you for reading.
Edited by BizarreSmalls
Chapter 5
I look at the tarp-covered lump again and shake my head. I don't know why I'm still working on it. The idea for it came from something Theo said a couple years ago, though it feels like a lifetime ago that I started working on it. The heroes were still fighting the good fight and my idol, the Professor, was still alive. He was killed at the Last Stand three month's ago with so many others.
I methodically clean the bits of grit and grime from my hands and underneath my fingernails. A small twinge of guilt goes through me. I've told no one about my little project, not even Theo. He knows everything about me, except this. My hands clean, I take my round lens-ed reading glasses off their perch on my nose and start to polish its lenses. I fall into a light meditative state as I slowly rub the lenses.
When I was thirteen, I started having trouble with faith and understanding my place in the world. Unlike many people with my level of intellect, I didn't rely on science having all the answers. I wanted to have faith in something greater than myself that didn't involve science; but the older I got and the more I learned, the harder it became.
Then one day, Theo and I were watching an old kung-fu movie that featured a shaolin monk as the main character. As we watched the strange combination of warrior, philosopher, and priest. I told Theo the problem I was having with my faith. Theo went quiet for a time. I knew to stay quiet and let him think. Theo is far smarter than he gives himself credit. On top of that, he has a understanding of people and situations that I didn't at the time, and still don’t. I've gotten better, but my mind always slips into the logical way of seeing things. While my intelligence makes me who I am, it often makes it hard for me to understand people and understand the deeper meaning of things that don't involve science. Then Theo point's at the TV and say's, “Maybe there's your answer.”
I spent a long time considering my best friends words. After a time, I decided what could it hurt to do some research. I quickly found that there was only the most general information available on the net about shaolin monk's and their order as a whole. After five hours of searching on the net, I found a very poorly put together page on a small temple three hour's away. What information I had gleaned from the net about the order was intriguing. I'm still not sure why I got on a transit bus and went to the small temple; all I know is, I've never regretted the trip.
The single master of the temple was more than happy to speak with me at length that day. That was nearly three years ago. I spend a month and a half each summer at the temple training and studying. I reworked the temple net page and I use it for my makeshift training with the master. The number of full time disciple's tripled, and there's a dozen others like me learning over the net, so I'm a nerd that knows kung-fu.
“Owen sweetie, you have a visitor.” Crackles my mothers voice over the intercom.
“Send them back to my workshop.” I frown at the intercom.
Who could it be? If it was Theo, she would have said that he's on the way back. And did she sound chipper about whoever it is? I exit my secret workshop and activated the door panel that conceals my secret shop. The door closes silently and seals with the faintest hiss. I check the program running on my computer that is searching for any net cast on heroes. It's set to play and record any net cast it finds.
I open the door of my workshop. I look down the path towards the house. I almost don't recognize the girl walking down the path towards me. The knee length green velvet winter dress throw's me for a loop. The black leggings, heeled boots, and a waist length leather jacket are normal for her, but I've never seen Abigail in a dress before. Her emerald eyes sparkle, framed by her still lightly tanned skin and flaming red hair. In my world of numbers and logic, nothing computes when I think of her in a dress. With her, I don't want to be a math professor. I want to be a poet; but I'm a professor, not a poet damn it.
Her cheeks are red as she gives me a brilliant smile, but are her cheeks red ‘cause she’s blushing or because it's cold? It's frustrating not knowing. I've tried asking my dad how you know a girl is interested in you. He just looked at mom with a dreamy look in his eyes. Theo's just as clueless as I am. I asked my master, and he fell over laughing. A great sage of wisdom, and he was rolling around on the floor howling with laughter. It didn't help when the rest of the brothers found out what I asked the master. I was then surrounded by robed men on the floor laughing. When the master finally calmed himself, he looked me in the eye and said, “A man is as likely to understand why the wind blows as to truly understand a woman. All you can do is feel the breeze, and hope and trust it will be welcoming.” I just stare at him in complete incomprehension. He pats me on the shoulder and apologizes for laughing at me. Later, I realized I might as well ask him the meaning of life as asking him about women. He took a vow of chastity; it would be like asking a virgin nun about sex. I gave up after that.
I step out of the doorway to let her in. I watch her face as her eyes sweep over my workshop. She walks over to one of my work benches. She puts a hand on the scar wood of the bench top. Her fingers trace one of the many scars in the old woods surface. She turns to me.
“It feel's like something special is going to be made here. Something that's going to change the world.” She lets her hair fall over her face, hiding most of it from view. She just gave you a compliment, genius. Say something nice damn it.
“You’re wearing a dress.” What the hell did I just say? Abigail giggles at me.
“Do you think it look's good on me?” She plays with the skirt of the dress. I want to say something along the lines of hell yes.”
“Why are you wearing a dress?” It's official my mouth is a traitor. Her brow's crease in a frown.
“I dress like a guy all the time. I have to remind myself and everyone else that I'm still a girl now an then.” She gives me a hooded look that I don't understand. I'm a damn genius I can figure this out.
“Well you are a very active person. Men's style clothing are simply more practical for you to wear.” My traitorous mouth spew's. What remains of the happy glow she came with slips away.
“I guess you don't like the dress.” She say's this with a sigh that I know has a deeper meaning. Think, math nerd, and think hard. Slowly something's start to fit into place in my mind. But my damn mouth opens before I can finish putting everything together.
“No, I think it's a lovely dress and if you wear it to school, you will have even more boy's striving for your attention.”
Abigail flinches as if I've hit her. The look on her face reinforces it. What little understanding I've gleaned fly's out the window. I've hurt her feelings. She turns her face away from me, her crimson hair making a curtain between us, but I can still see a single tear slide from the corner of her eye.
My eyes start roaming my shop looking for something to stab myself in the chest with. I feel like a monstrous jerk. How do I fix this? Can I fix what I've done? She is not some machine that I can plug in some new part to fix her, and she's not some math problem to be rework so I can solve it. I let out a heavy sigh as I lean against my work bench. I rub a hand up over my face and into my hair. I open my mouth to speak and nothing comes out. Sure now you keep silent damn it. My computer chime's and we both jump in surprise. I move over to my computer. A net cast page comes up on the screen.
“This is the first Defiance net cast, and I'm your host, Beacon. To all the heroes out there still fighting, I thank you from the bottom of my heart and this one's for you.” The song that used to open and close Hero News play's loud and clear. Abigail turn's to me, her eyes wide. I can now clearly see where a few tears have cut a path down her beautiful features.
“Oh my god.” She whispers. All I can do is nod.
Even as I despair, hope springs anew.
<<<<<<<<<< Abigail's POV>>>>>>>>>>
After the Defiance net cast ended yesterday, Owen and I fell into a awkward silence. It was obvious that Owen didn't know what to say and I was just too embarrassed and discouraged by his reaction to try to start up another conversation. The light was beginning to fade outside, so I told Owen I needed to get home. He walked me to my car. After I got into my car he retreated to the porch. I pulled out of the driveway and as I shifted into drive, I glance over at the porch. Owen is sitting on the steps, elbows propped on his knees. His left hand is holding his head while his right hand is fisted and lightly thumping his forehead. I could see his lips moving, but I couldn't make out what he was saying.
When I got home, I called and tried to talk to Madison. She had seen the net cast too, and was too excited about it to really listen to me. I was a little put out about her not listening to me, so I just gave up on trying to talk to her. What did I do wrong? All he did was focus on was dress and how I don't wear them. Does he really see me as only some jock, and not a girl at all?
If I'd shown up like that for any other guy the night would have gone differently. Okay, Theo and Jim being the exception's, but did I really want Owen to act like all the other guys? Because if he did, then he wouldn't be the Owen I like or maybe even.... My world whirl's and I slam into the mat for the sixth time in twenty minutes.
“That's enough. Where's your head at Abby? ‘Cause it sure as hell isn't here?” Asks my Judo teacher.
I lever myself to my feet, groaning in pain. I called my judo teacher, Rick, and asked him if I could have a private session. Rick has Sandy brown hair and is all of five foot seven. His size means nothing to him between his skill and his steel cable like muscles. He is far stronger than he looks. He levels his blue gray eyes on me as he tosses me a towel and water bottle.
He point's at a stool next to him. When I started taking lesson with him three years ago I had a crush on him. He picked up on it and he privately informed me I wasn't his type, being jailbait and a girl for that matter. After that, he's taken on a big brother roll in my life as well as teacher. I slump down on the stool next to him.
“I'm waiting.” I groan again.
“My head is in Owens workshop trying to figure out why he would only talk about my dress.”
“Wait, what dress?” I glare at him. Why is it so hard for people to wrap their heads around the idea of me in a dress? “Okay, back up and tell me the whole story.”
I tell him every embarrassing detail I can remember from last night. Mercifully, he only asks a handful of questions. After I finish I hang my head in embarrassment. Rick just sits quietly thinking. After five minutes I can't take it any more.
“Well what do you think?” I demand. He starts laughing.
“You might as well of hit him over the head with a brick.” He gasps, trying to get himself under control.
“What are you talking about?” I yell at him in exasperation.
“Abby, most people with his level of intellect like to have everything and everyone in little boxes in their minds. They don't do it to be mean or anything, it's just how their mind's store information.”
“Okay I can understand that, but what are you trying to get at?”
“Abby, you didn't just step out of the box, you blew it to pieces. First you showed up at his house out of the blue, then on top of that, you were wearing a dress. Hell, I've never seen you in a dress.” I growl at him in frustration.
“Get to the point already.”
“Okay, fine. I will spell it out for you. For all we know, he could have been ecstatic that you were there in a dress. We don't know for sure because his logical mind took over and tried to get his understanding of you back into a box.”
“So basically what you’re saying, is that it was all too much for his logic circuits to handle?”
“Just a bit.” Rick holds up his hand with only a small space between his thumb and pointer finger.
“So you’re saying I need to go back and take baby steps.” I look down at the floor. “It's going to be so awkward after what happened yesterday.” I sigh heavily. He makes me look at him.
“Then you have to ask yourself this: Is he worth it?” Rick's tone is firm and demanding. It’s his training voice.
“Yes he is.” I croak as my throat goes dry and my cheeks heat up.
“Well then that answers that. Now on your feet, it's time to get back to work.”
An once more into the breach, my friends.
<<<<<<<<<<Unknown POV>>>>>>>>>>
I run as fast as I can, but my mind is still going faster than my feet. And that's saying something, considering the landscape is a blur around me. The net cast from last night keeps playing through my head. The call has been sounded once again. I answered the last call to arms and fought next to heroes, both great and small, and I watched them die or be taken one by one. They are screaming their defiance into the wilderness, not knowing there is no one left to answer the call to arms. All we can do now is survive.
The age of heroes has ended, and darkness reign's.