Chapter Six
"Hello Mara, I'm home."
John closed the door behind him and looked down the hall toward the sitting room. Usually Mara was curled up on the sofa reading a book but this time she was nowhere to be seen.
He removed his shoes and set them next to Mara's as he always did. The house seemed unusually quiet, as if he where the only one here. John poked his head in the kitchen and looked around, then made his way toward his room. It would feel good to take a bath and remove the sweat of the shop before dinner.
He paused in front of Mara's room and pushed the door open. Mara was lying on her bed, she wasn't fast asleep but rather seemed to be taking a light nap. Small wonder, he thought. She does a lot of work around here that he and Inoda seemed to take for granted.
John walked over to the bed and looked down on her.
"Mara, are you awake?" he asked.
Mara opened her eyes and looked up at him.
"I am now," she replied. "I just felt a little tired that's all. If you hang on for a minute I'll fix your dinner."
John flopped down on the bed next to her and put an arm around her waist.
"No hurry," he replied. "I think I'll just lie here for a while next to you. You're not sick are you Mara? If you are I can get you something."
Mara turned to face him and lay a hand on his cheek.
"No I'm fine John, it's just that a lot has happened today and I need to rest for a while."
"What do you mean?" inquired John. "Nothing bad I hope."
Mara turned over and spoke with her back toward him.
"I'm not sure John. Dad came home this afternoon and immediately put on his hunter's clothes and weapons. He seemed excited about something, but when I asked him about it he just smiled and said that this was the big one, the kind of bounty that every hunter dreams of. I don't know anymore than that."
John stared at the ceiling and rested his arm on his forehead. Inoda had left already and that in itself was unusual. Whatever Inoda was up to it must be important.
"Well you know what that means," said John playfully. "We have the house all to ourselves for the evening. And I think we should practice making another baby, I don't think I have the hang of it yet."
John kissed Mara on the neck but she didn't respond. She was obviously not in the mood and he felt dejected.
"Not tonight John," she mumbled. "I just don't feel like it. It's not you, but I have this bad feeling that something isn't right. It's nothing you've done but I just want to be alone for a while. Do you understand?"
John sat up on the edge of the bed and let out a deep breath. Damn, women were complicated. If only they would come right out and say what was on their minds instead of speaking in riddles. But he also recalled hearing somewhere that women often became sick when they were pregnant. Maybe that's what was wrong with her, and if that was the case he should be a little more understanding.
"Okay Mara," John said glumly. "I'll fix my own dinner and then I'll go to bed. I hope you're feeling better in the morning."
John walked from the room and closed the door behind him. He was to be alone by himself for the rest of the evening, and that was something that hadn't happened in a long time.
***
John stared at the bedside clock. He had been looking at it for the last half hour, his mind vacant, simply killing time until until it was appropiate to rise and begin the day. He had gone to bed early the previous evening and as a result he had awakened earlier than usual.
John rolled to the edge of the bed and stretched out a hand for his clothes that were draped on the back of a chair just out of arm's reach. He grabbed the leg of his pants and pulled, the chair falling to the floor and sending his socks and shoes flying under the bed.
He swore and groped beneath the bedframe for the rest of his clothes. Eventually he had everything assembled and proceeded to dress, taking his time to make sure that his toes fit snugly into his socks.
When he was finished he shuffled over to the door and pushed it aside, entering the hall and making his way to the kitchen. He hoped that Mara was already up as usual and making breakfast. John stopped in front of the door to her room and looked in. Mara wasn't there, and that could only mean that she was feeling better and was in the kitchen preparing food for himself and Inoda.
He put on the most cheerful face he could muster, he was suddenly in a good mood and ready for whatever life could throw at him.
As John walked to the kitchen he passed by the sitting room and saw someone sitting on the sofa with their back toward him, it was Mara. She had her arms resting on her legs and her head was down. She seemed to take no notice of John as he walked around the sofa to stand in front of her.
Maybe she's still sick, he thought.
"Mara, are you okay?" he asked "If you're ill then maybe you should see a doctor."
Mara looked up at him. Her face was streaked with tears and her hair was matted to her face. It was obvious that she had been crying for hours.
Now John was worried, this was not like Mara at all. If she was ill he was going to take her to see a doctor, regardless of the cost or if she complained.
"What's wrong Mara?" he asked. "If you're not feeling well then I'm taking you to someone that can help, I'm not going to let you suffer like this."
Mara simply stared at John for a moment. She didn't appear to be in any pain, but rather she seemed to be upset at something.
"What time is it?" she asked weakly.
John was taken back by the question. What the hell did the time of day have to do with what was troubling her?
"It's just after six am," he replied. "But I don't see what that has to do with anything."
Mara looked away and stared at a point on the wall. She answered John by speaking to herself.
"It's father," she answered. "Dad always returns at five am, he's been doing that for years. And if he's an hour late that means that he's not coming home at all."
John shook his head in confusion. He hadn't the slightest idea what Mara was getting at.
"I don't understand Mara. So Inoda isn't home yet what's the big deal? Hunters don't keep regular hours, and you said something last night about him going after a big score."
At those words John realized what they meant and he felt his heart leap in his chest.
It was Alex and his gang, what else could Inoda have been referring to? John's tiredness and his concern for Mara's well-being had prevented him from seeing the obvious. Inoda had gone after Alex and John knew that his former friend was now capable of murder. And Mara was right, if Inoda hadn't returned home yet then that could only mean he was in serious trouble.
"I have to find him," said John. "If something's happened to Inoda I have to help him."
"No!" Mara shouted to him but he ignored her.
John turned away and hurried to Inoda's room. He had never entered here and was unsure of where to look. He saw a huge bed constructed of a cast iron frame and a chest of drawers set against one wall. Inoda had taken his sword with him and John had never seen him with another so it was doubtful that the old man had a spare. He flipped the mattress over but found nothing. Then he moved to the chest and started to pull the drawers out, dumping the contents onto the bed and rummaging through clothing until his hand touched something hard. He grasped the object and held it to his face. It was a large knife with a serrated edge. It was polished to a high gloss and John could tell that the blade was extremely sharp.
He reached behind him and slipped the blade into the back of his belt, once his coat was on the weapon would be hidden from sight until needed. It wasn't much, but it was all that could be had at the moment.
John strode out of the room and headed for the front door. He was working on the assumption that Inoda had gone after Alex, and if that was the case then John had a pretty good idea of where to look.
John was barely a few steps from the door when he heard Mara running after him.
"Don't go!" she pleaded. "You can't help him now John. If father hasn't returned home then that means that he's dead, and there's nothing you can do to change that."
"I have to," John replied. "Maybe he is dead, but if he isn't then I'm the only one that can help him. You can't just expect me to leave him in the street to die, not after all that he's done for me."
"No John you owe him nothing, he wanted you to be a hunter like him. That was his only motive for taking you in. You have a greater responsibility now, to me and to our baby."
John turned and stared angrily at her.
"Listen to yourself," he said scornfully. "This is your father we're talking about. You may hate him because you blame him for your mother's death but he's still your father."
"No matter what I may think of him he's my father and I do love him," replied Mara. "But I love you too John, and if you go out that door there's the possibility that I might lose you as well."
John looked at Mara for a long moment and then snatched his coat from it's peg. He pulled it on and then opened the door to the hallway.
"If you go John then I won't be here when you return."
John stood in the doorway for a moment, refusing to look at her. Mara had given him an ultimatum and he was torn between his loyalty to the man that had given him a new life and the woman that would occupy it. John knew that Mara was not the kind to make idle threats, but if he turned back now he knew he could never live with the guilt of having abandoned Inoda. John was simply not that kind of man.
Without a word he stepped into the hall and shut the door behind him. He knew that Mara would not run after him, for she was not the type of woman to beg from anyone, not even him.
John started down the stairs and whispered two silent prayers to whatever deity might be listening. First, that Inoda was still alive. And second, that Mara would be waiting for him if he returned.
***
John ran through the streets, heading west toward the old neighbourhood that he and Alex had called home for most of their lives. The sun wasn't quite up yet, and peeked between buildings occasionally as it continued to rise and burn it's way through the constant haze that hung in the scrapyard.
He ran past the alley where he had first encountered Inoda and a chill ran up his spine. The old man had saved his life that night, and despite Mara's protestations John felt more sure than ever that he was doing the right thing. He owed Inoda, and he silently vowed to find out what had happened to him. And if he encountered Alex he would have to take the situation as it played out.
There was a lane just ahead on his right. John knew that it ran back from the street a ways until it ended in a low wall, and on the other side was a small courtyard leading to a block of deserted buildings he and Alex had used occasionally to hide out in. He turned into the lane and ran to the end of it. When he reached the wall he place his hands on the top and pulled himself over, dropping to the other side and crouching behind the burnt shell of an abandoned car.
John peered over the back of the vehicle, scanning the windows of the buildings for any sign of movement. There were none, and John knew that to enter the nearest building he would have to expose himself in plain view, there was no other way.
He straightened up and walked around from behind the car, keeping one hand behind him ready to grasp the knife at the first sign of trouble.
The street was dead quiet as John entered a low-rise with an open door at ground level. There was little ambient light streaming through broken windows but it was enough for him to see. He looked at the floor and could plainly make out fresh footprints in the layer of white soot that cover every exposed surface of the interior. Someone had been here recently, and several scuff marks on the walls and an overturned cabinet were indications that a struggle had taken place.
John pulled the knife from under his coat and held it in front of him. He crept down a corridor toward a large room he knew well. It was a place where he and Alex had spent many nights sleeping on the floor to avoid confrontations with rival gangs.
He reached the entrance to the room and stopped, peering around the corner and listening for any indication that someone might be in there.
John saw Inoda lying on the floor, he was on his back and there was a large amount of blood pooled around his body. John bit his tongue to stifle the urge to cry out. He entered the room and ran to Inoda, his body shaking with fear to the point that he almost dropped the knife.
He knelt next to the big man and placed a hand on Inoda's chest. There was no heartbeat and the body felt cold. There was a large entry wound to the heart and he had been dead for a couple hours at least.
John closed his eyes and lowered his head in sadness. How could he possibly tell Mara that her father was dead? He looked at Inoda and made a silent vow to the man that he would take care of his daughter, and that when their children were old enough he would tell them all about the grandfather who would never hold them in his arms.
John stood and looked around the room, it was then that he noticed two other bodies lying on the floor behind him. They were near the wall to the right of the door he had entered and had escaped his notice completely, so concerned had he been at the sight of his fallen friend.
It was Schill and Tremon, both were dead from wounds to the chest. It was obvious that Inoda had killed them and that brought up an important question. Where was Inoda's sword?
John looked back at Inoda and realized that the weapon was nowhere to be seen. Alex must have it, and possibly he had wrestled it from Inoda's grasp during the struggle and had killed Inoda with his own sword.
Now John was angry, he strode away from the gruesome scene and made his way back down the corridor to a staircase leading to the second floor. He made no pretense at stealth for he wanted Alex to know he was coming. Despite what his old friend had meant to him at one time John was going to kill him, and he wanted Alex to know it.
John paused at the top of stairs and looked around. He spotted a drop of blood several meters away and walked toward it for a better look. It appeared fresh, an indication that Alex was wounded and that meant that John might have a slim chance against him if Alex had taken Inoda's sword.
There was a doorway just ahead and as John entered a small room he was shocked to see Alex sitting in a chair at the far end. He appeared to be resting, his eyes were closed and the sword was propped against the chair next to him. The front of his coat was soaked in blood and John noticed the shallow rise and fall of his chest as Alex held his hand protectively over his stomach to stem the bleeding.
Alex opened his eyes and looked at John. He smiled and held out a blood soaked hand, beckoning John to come nearer.
"What took you so long?" said Alex weakly. "I've been waiting all night for some hunter to show up and finish the job, but I'm surprised to see that it's you."
"I'm not a hunter-warrior," replied John. "But that man you killed was my friend and I can't allow you to live."
"Don't worry," said Alex. "The old man got me pretty good and it's only a matter of time until I bleed to death. Why don't you keep me company? We'll tell stories about the old days and maybe have a drink or two."
John took several steps forward until he stood in front of Alex.
"How could you be so stupid?" he asked. "Did you really think that you could steal from the factory and get away with it?"
"We would have," replied Alex. "But we needed you to pull it off. I had to kill Steve to keep him from spreading word of what we were planning and that left us a man short. If you had been there to back us up we could have pulled it off and we'd all be sitting in some bar right now, living the good life."
John shook his head and lowered the knife to his side.
"You can't blame me for this," said John as he stared away out a window. "Everything that's happened is your fault, and if you were a man you would take responsibility for it."
"Oh, can't I?" answered Alex with a hint of sarcasm. "You abandoned me John, we've always been a team ever since we were kids and the rest of the guys I could care less about. But you John, you were the closest thing to a family I've ever had and you let me down."
As Alex spoke he began to slowly move his right hand toward the hilt of the sword. John was looking away and failed to notice what Alex was doing.
"No Alex," said John as he turned to face him. "I just grew up, that's all. We're not kids anymore and there comes a time when we have to realize it. Well you didn't and look at what's happened to you."
Without warning Alex leaped from the chair and swung the sword at John's throat, but all that practice with Inoda had paid off. John instinctively stepped back just out of range and the weapon sailed harmlessly by. John raised the knife to chest height and lunged forward, he fell into Alex and plunged the blade deep into his chest just above the heart.
John saw the look of disbelief on Alex's face as the two crashed into the chair. Alex let out a deep breath and John felt his body go limp, the sword falling to the floor as blood spurted onto John's shirt and soaked his skin.
John stood and took a step back. He had never killed a man before and he felt a mix of elation and revulsion. And there was anger as well, anger at the dead man before him for forcing him into commiting such an act.
John picked up Inoda's sword and held it close to his face. He had never held Inoda's sword before and he could tell the weapon was well balanced, and that Lam had put his heart into making it.
John turned and walked away from the gruesome sight. There were only two things left to do, tell Mara what had happened and then take her away from the scrapyard. Somewhere the air was clean and the streets were safe to walk on. The idea appealed to him, and he was sure that Mara would feel the same way.
***
"Mara, where are you?"
John looked down the hallway and could see no sign of her. He looked first in the kitchen and then the sitting room. Mara was nowhere to be seen, and the only sound he could hear was the beating of his own heart.
He walked to her room and pushed the door aside. Everything appeared as usual and he stepped inside and looked around. There was a small chest of drawers near the bed and John pulled out the top one. It was bare, and John knew that Mara kept if full of clothes and personal momentos.
He ripped the other drawers open and saw that all of them were the same. They were empty, indicating that Mara had packed up her belongings and made good on her promise.
John hurried from the room and ran to the front door. He looked at where Mara always set her shoes and coat and saw that they were missing.
John threw the door open and flew down the stairs. He burst into the street and twisted his head left and right, ignoring the looks thrown to him by passersby.
Mara was gone, she had made good on her threat and left him. And with her she had taken all his hopes and dreams for the future.
He shuffled back to the steps of the building and sat down, burying his face in his hands and unable to stop the tears that welled up in his eyes and spilled onto his face. In a single day he had lost so much, and most of it had been his fault.
John sat there, ignoring the hunger in his belly and the cold air that came with the night. It wasn't until the next day that he left that spot and walked away from the building, never once looking back.
Chapter Seven