Chapter Five
"Come on," said Mara as she grabbed John by the hand. "If we don't hurry, we're going to be late."
John found himself being pulled along the street toward a small eatery six blocks away from where they lived. He had been promising Mara for weeks to take her out for dinner, and today he had no excuse. Business was slow at the shop and Lam had given him the day off much to Mara's delight.
"Slow down," John pleaded as he tried to keep up with her. "There's plenty of time to eat and I doubt if the place will be full, it's only Tuesday."
"That's not the point," shouted Mara above the noise of the street. "I'm hungry, and for once I want to sit down to a good meal knowing that I won't have to clean up afterwards."
John resigned himself to letting Mara lead the way, threading a path through crowds of people that turned to look at the two young couple, laughing amidst the squalor and dispair.
"You know Mara, I think your father has come to accept us being together, in fact I'm sure he even approves of us."
"And that's because of you John," Mara replied. "He knew he couldn't stop me from seeing you but he was waiting to see if you were the kind of man who would stay with me."
"There's no need for him to worry," said John. "You and I will be together forever Mara, I promise you."
"I know John, and now dad knows it too."
The two had slowed from a brisk walk to a casual stroll, taking their time to look at the sights around them. People of all kinds were busy about their business. Tradesmen were hawking trinkets to passersby while prostitutes stood in doorways, throwing a look if disgust at the young man with a pretty young girl on his arm.
John glanced down at Mara who had pulled close to John and held him by the arm. He couldn't help but smile at the way things had turned out. He was content and at peace with himself, and for once he knew where he was going and what was to happen to him. Barring only the gravest of misfortunes, he was sure he was going to spend the rest of his days with Mara and that was fine by him.
The two continued walking for several blocks until they came to a wall of people. A crowd had gathered on the street before them, apparently something was going on though John hadn't the slightest idea what all the fuss was about.
"What's happening?" asked Mara.
"I'm not sure," answered John. "You wait here and I'll see if I can find out."
Mara let go of his arm and John made his way toward the crowd, pushing his way past stragglers and peering over heads in an attempt to see what was going on. He could discern nothing, and pushed his way through the throng until he stood on the edge of the curb, looking at a horrific sight.
There was a dead body lying on the street, a young man in his early twenties had been decapitated and blood pumped from the severed neck, it couldn't have happened more than a few minutes ago.
John stared at the body, fighting the natural inclination to look away. There was something familiar about it, it's clothes, the shape of the hands. He had the distinct feeling he had seen this person somewhere before and it had not been under pleasant circumstances.
Then John realized it was Steve. The young man who had been part of Alex's gang that day several months ago. He had never been close to Steve and felt little compassion for the dead man before him, but it brought up the important question of what had happened to Alex. John had seen him hurt people, but to his knowledge his old friend had never committed murder. And if Alex was responsible for this then John was glad he had refused Alex's offer to rejoin the group, for this could easily have been his body lying here.
John turned away and started pushing his way through the crowd. Mara was back there and he had left her alone, a decision that now worried John as he struggled to erase the gruesome scene from his memory. He would rejoin Mara and tell her there had been an accident and that they should take an alternate route, one that was well lit.
John emerged from the gawkers and looked left then right, he was sure that he had left Mara standing right here and she was not likely to have wandered off.
Now John was frightened, he scanned the street, looking for Mara among any female face he encountered.
Then he saw her. Mara was standing at the next block with two strange men. They were talking to her and Mara was looking away, pointing at the street and offering short replies to their questions.
John felt the blood rush to his head and he balled his fists, the sight of that dead body and his instinctive concern for Mara had suddenly wiped away any common sense or rationale. He was possessed with a hatred he had never experienced before. A desire to injure and inflict pain upon another, coupled with natural feelings of jealousy that drove him into a state of rage.
He rushed at the two men, pumping his arms and legs to help assauge the adrenelin that raged through his body.
"No!" he heard Mara plead, but it was too late.
John struck the nearest one on the side of the face, knocking him to the ground and delivering a vicious kick to his ribs. He heard the man's bones crack as his vicitm cried out in anguish and clutched his chest.
John turned to face the other man who appeared to be in a state of shock.
"Who the hell are you!" the man screamed at him.
John's reply was to punch the man in the jaw and send him staggering back against a wall. John leaped forward and grabbed him by the collar, holding him firm as he pummeled his victim with a series of blows to the jaw and nose. He felt a hand on his shoulder try to pull him away but he ignored it. He was caught in the heat of the moment and there was no stopping him until he had seen enough blood to satisfy him.
"Stop it John!" he heard Mara scream in his ears. "None of this is what you think it is!"
John pulled his shoulder free of Mara's grasp and continued to hit the man, his own arms starting to tire and his knuckles aching from the repeated blows.
He struck the man several more times and then heard the sound of running feet. He looked over his shoulder and saw Mara running away, holding her hands to her face to stem the tears running down her cheeks.
John let his victim go and the unconscious form slumped to the ground. If he had continued a moment longer he would have been guilty of murder.
"Stop!" shouted John at Mara's receding figure. "Come back Mara, why are you running away?"
He took off in pursuit, weaving his way through passersby that threw an angy stare and the occassional curse as he ran into several of them. The same prostitutes that a moment before had looked at the couple with disdain now smiled in contempt. Men they knew, were not to be trusted. And love was only for the moment.
The two had ran for several blocks with John steadily gaining on her. He was desperate to explain his actions and to find out why she had run away, when suddenly Mara fell, tumbling to the sidewalk to lie at the feet of people who couldn't have cared less what had happened to her.
John ran to her side and put his arms protectively around her. He glared up at the vacant eyes that stared as they passed by the pair, accustomed as they were to the daily violence of the scrapyard.
"Come on," John said softly. "You have to get up Mara, we'll go somewhere and talk about this."
John tried to pull Mara to her feet but she reached up and pushed his hands away.
"Leave me alone John, you just don't understand anything do you."
"What are you talking about?" John replied. "I was only trying to help, those two creeps were giving you a hard time so I hit them, isn't that what a man is supposed to do when the woman he loves is in danger?"
"I wasn't in danger," Mara retorted. "Those two were just asking for directions, that's all. You beat up two innocent men John, they were no more a threat to me than to you."
John fell silent and stepped back from Mara. He realized he'd made a grave mistake and fumbled for an apology.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I was just concerned for you Mara, you can understand that can't you?"
Mara looked to a low step leading to a clothing shop. Without a word she turned away from John and walked over to it, setting herself down and letting her gaze fall to the ground.
John shuffled over and sat next to her. He felt a complete fool and had no right to speak to her. Mara would talk first and he would listen without interruption.
"What I saw today was a different side of you," began Mara. "I knew that you came from a violent background but I was shocked to see you hit someone. Is there a hidden side to your personality, a man capable of brutality in the heat of anger? Tell me John, has the year we've spent together been nothing but an act, another game to get what you want?"
John stared in shock at Mara, how could she possibly think that? Yes he admitted he had acted in anger without thinking, but how could she possibly think that he had been lying to her?
"No Mara, you're wrong. Yes I made a mistake and I regret it, but my feelings toward you are genuine. And I would never do anything to harm you, you know that."
"I'm not so sure John," she answered. "What if you became angry with me? Would you hit me John, could you strike me in anger without thinking? That's not the kind of man I want to marry and it's certainly not the kind of father I want for our daughter."
John looked strangely at Mara and frowned. What was she talking about? Sure they had talked about getting married, but they had no children. Then the realization came to him.
"Wait a minute," said John nervously. "What are you saying about a daughter? We have no children, unless there's something you want to tell me."
Mara looked at John and nodded her head.
"Yes John, we're going to have a baby. I've known for several weeks now and was waiting for the right time to tell you. I wanted to give you the news tonight while we were having dinner but all that's changed."
John was speechless. He had never given any thought to having children, and the idea of him being a father was something he hadn't planned for. It meant assuming a great responsibility, both for Mara and their child. But John also felt the elation all men experience at this time. He was going to be a father, and there was going to be a little part of him left to the world when he was gone.
He leaned over and hugged Mara, rubbing her shoulder and whispering to her.
"That's wonderful," he said. "It's a little unexpected but I want the baby. I hope you'll forgive me for what happened Mara, I'll never do anything to hurt you again. And I'll be a good father to our child, you'll see."
"I want to believe you John, but I would be lying if I said I didn't have my doubts. I won't live under the shadow of violence, it killed my mother and I won't let it happen to me or my daughter."
"Our daughter," John corrected.
John stood and pulled Mara to her feet. They began the long walk home, the scrapyard seeming nothing more than a painting stretched along a wall. None of it real, just scenery that passed the time until one reached a door that opened to the real world.
***
John grabbed his coat off the nail and pushed his arms into the sleeves.
"I'll be going now," he threw over his shoulder to Lam. "That is, unless you need me to stay and help you clean up."
Lam glanced up from the blade he was working on and pushed the protective goggles back on his forehead.
"No, go right ahead," he answered. "You work pretty hard around here kid, and I know there's other things you'd rather be doing than pushing a broom."
John smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
"Yeah," he answered sheepishly. "I have a girl waiting at home, but I guess you've known for a while now."
"Of course," said Lam. "You're living with Inoda and his little girl so who else could it be? I've known her since she was a kid and her old man used to bring her around to the shop sometimes."
"I kind of figure that," replied John. "Mara has mentioned a few times that she knew you."
"Well just be sure to treat her with the proper respect John. She's all that Inoda has and I happen to like her too. The girl has spirit, and she's not bad looking either."
John smiled and waved good bye. He pulled back the door and started across the expanse of trash and rusted iron that littered the landscape. He was so familiar with the terrain that he could have closed his eyes and not stumbled once.
When he reached the other side he entered a narrow lane and emerged onto a busy street. He plunged his hands into his pockets and turned east, following the same route he took every day. John spotted the familiar newstand he passed on his way to and from work and paused. He had been rather busy lately and his thoughts had been on other things. It might be a good idea to buy a paper and catch up on the news of the city.
John picked up a copy of the Scrapyard Daily and tossed a fifty chip coin to a small man who tipped his hat in return.
John continued on his way, thumbing the pages and occasionally glancing up to see where he was walking. Nothing unusual in the way of news. Crime was down twelve percent, so said Tiphares. And there was a new champion of Motorball, some suicide junkie who had racked up a string of victories in the first league.
John continued to leaf through the paper until he came to a section at the back devoted to wanted criminals. He looked down the page, staring into the eyes of hardened killers and thieves,wanted for everything from murder to pickpocketing.
Suddenly John froze. He stood completely still and gripped the edges of the paper so tightly his fingers ached. Near the bottom of the page were three pictures of men wanted for murder and theft of factory property. It was of Alex and the two remaining members of his gang, Schill and Tremon. John ran his eyes over the headline and the text that followed.
According to the article, earlier today a gang of thugs had beaten up and robbed a factory merchant named Vector. They had made off with a substantial amount of money and had killed Vector's bodyguard. Due to the extreme nature of the offense a substantial reward was being offered. Forty thousand chips for each of them if the criminals were dealt with before the next morning.
John crumpled the paper in his fist and felt his heart grow heavy. This had been the big score Steve had spoken about, and if John had went with them he would now be a hunted man like his friends.
So stupid, he thought. If this Vector had died in the robbery then Alex and his friends would have gotten away. But they had been identified and now it was just a matter of time until some hunter-warrior took their heads. They would be lucky to survive the night.
John threw the paper away and hurried on his way home. He wanted to be in a warm house holding Mara in his arms, and away from the street that his friends were to die on.
Chapter Six