The Spirit

I slowly rise, and turn around. My eyes widen in shock when I see a man standing there. Someone seemingly around my age, with red-ish skin, very tribal clothing, and a bow pointed at me with an arrow nooked in. He pulls the bow back, “Give me a reason not to kill you, demon.”

I scrunch my face up in confusion, “Demon? I can assure you, I’m not some demon.”

He shakes his head, “A face of a bird, talk without moving your mouth, dark figure, and quite imposing. Seems like the demons I’ve been told about. Give me a reason not to shoot you.”

I sigh a slight bit, “Because I’m not a demon?”

He pulls the bow back even more, “Exactly what a demon would say.”

I ready myself, he’s not willing to listen to reason, “Well, I have a very good reason.”

I lunge forward, and knock his bow aside as he fires. The arrow intended for me ends up buried in my bedframe as I take advantage of the mans lack of weapons.

I take hold of his arm with the bow, and twist it until he drops it. Then I take the same arm and go around his back, wrapping another arm around his neck. I take his face, and put all my weight into my next blow. I smash his head down onto a desk, and he is knocked unconscious with that one blow. I let his body drop to the floor.

Then, I feel cool metal press against the back of my head, “Don’t move. You move, you die.”

I hold my hands in the air, “You sure this is wise? You did see what I did to him, right?”

The old voice speaks again, “I would like to think I could hold better then him.”

I smile, “Let’s test that.”

I twirl around, using my elbows to knock his gun away. Unlike the last guy, he lets his gun go flying with a single shot sounding out. He backs up away from me, and flicks a knife out from his pocket.

I complete my twirl, facing him and flicking out my karambit. After spinning it on my finger, I lie my hand in a backwards grip. The curved blade faces toward my opponent as I get a chance to study him. A green beret with a yellow patch covers the probably grey hair that his grey beard leads to. He wears a green coat with a white undershirt. The soldier look is completed by a cigarette hanging out his mouth.

He rushes me with his knife, swiping it at my body from the side. I raise my knife up to block it, deflecting it with the curved blade. He adapts to the change, and brings it at a horizontal blow to my head. I duck beneath the blow, and lunge at his neck with the tip of my blade.

He jumps back, dodgeing my blow and taking advantage of my over extension. He brings the blade down, assuming a headsman position over my head. I slip my pinkie into the safety ring of the knife, and twirl it up to meet his. The momentum of my spinning blade hits his knife, and sends it flying. Coincidentally, the blow also forced the knife off of my finger.

Both of our blades go flying, far beyond our brawl. Without skipping a beat, the both of us put up our fists. My hands protected by the gloves on them, his by callouses and experience.

I lash out with a quick jab at his face, to wich he moves his head to the side. He takes the opportunity, and hits me with a jab of his own right into my chest. My previously fat, now lean, frame takes the blow in stride. I twist on my foot to provide a left hook to his head. He ducks under, right into a uppercut my other hand is doing. The blow strikes him on the chin, slightly hurting my hand, but also sending his head flying up. The momentum from the blow sends him staggering back, closer to the door.

I take the opportunity, and move in to assault him with more blows. I direct a jab to his face, but he catches it with his hand, and twists my hand aroud. Not wanting my hand to break, I kick him in the shins with my hard boot. He lets go in pain.

I decide that kicking his shins seems like a really good idea now. I lash out with one leg, but it turns out his pain was a bluff. He sweeps his leg under my other leg, sending me crashing to the ground. He hops on top of me and starts to rain blows down. He is also smart enough to avoid the beak. One to the right, one to the left, another to the right, repeat. Luckily, my helmet is padded and hard enough that his blows don’t do much damage. But, the wind is still knocked out of me.

I catch my breath, and manage to push him off me. He stumbles back as I rise.

We both get to our feet, and stare at each other. We’ve both taken blows, but still ready to fight. That is, until a knife finds itself on the back of his neck. A knife attached to a gun. A gun held by eagle talons, “Stop it, right now.”

Discord holds the Type 99 with confidence, the bolt securely down, and the gun ready to fire. The man holds his hands up, “I surrender. Can we aggre to stop fighting and talk?”

I sigh a breath of relief, “Yes. That’s all I wanted to do. But, you forced my hand. Well, the Native here forced my hand.”

He nods, and starts moving into the room once more, “Right, that shot I fired off is going to attract all the dead in the area. I can take you back to our base, we will talk there. Grab your knife, and grab the boy if you don’t mind. I need to see if I can find any medicine around here.”

I nod, and grab my knife from the middle of the bed, where it landed. I flick it closed, and put it away, “Why do you need medicine?”

He picks up his knife as well, “We have a sick man.”

I lean down, and throw the Native over my shoulder, “No need to worry about medicine. I can help him.”

He looks over at me, “What, you a doctor?”

I start to go out the room, “I’m Survivor, the chimera is Discord. Come on, old man, you said the dead are coming!”

He grumbles as he follows me after picking up his M16, “Bill, not ‘old man’. Remember that this ‘old man’ almost beat you in a fight.”

I nod, “Yeah, yeah, that’s why I have Discord. Come on, Discord, we are leaving now!”

He snaps the rifle out of existence, into whatever void he stores stuff in, “Yeah, I got it!”

I rush down the stairs, not missing a single step due to all my practice. I rush to the front door, and open the door. With the others following me, we exit. Bill rushes past me as he jogs down the street, “Come on, this way!”

I stop for a second on the driveway, looking back at home. This is probably the last time I can ever see it again. It’s color, it’s smells, the memories. My parents, I can almost see their ghosts on the doorstep. Glowing silver, and outlined in my bright blue.

They’re waving me off, smiles on their faces. Allowed one last trip from Paradise to properly say goodbye to their son. Kendrick, he’s not there. I imagine if he was, he would moan about me living longer than him. The idiot, who sacrificed himself at school. I can only hope he is in Paradise as well, rewards for what he did. If Chem didn’t put him there, he will feel pain.

I look at my parents as they stand on that porch in front of the door. Sadly smiling, even Dad smiles, the strict father he was, always pushing me to greatness. Mom smiles, always supporting me in my endeavors, even if they might not be the greatest. I give them one last nod, and feel my eyes tear up, “Goodbye.”

They both disappear, floating off into the sky. The sky blasts out a bright silver when they reach the clouds, and behind the clouds is the bright blue sky. Discord stares at them as well as they float away, “I’m sure they were beautiful people, and they are going to enjoy a good afterlife. But, we have to get going!”

I smile at the house one last time, committing every moment I lived in it to memory.

Then, I turn and run down the street.

Sorry Mom and Dad, every kid has to grow up and leave who they were behind. I can only hope you will smile upon me for the rest of my life. Know who you raised, the two you raised. Kendrick who sacrificed himself. And me, who Survives.