The Peacekeepers

Part One; Chapter Three

Training begins

It took us two days of driving almost nonstop to get to the farm in Tennessee. I fell asleep when we crossed the state line into Tennessee. When I was woken up by my uncle I saw the farm. It was pretty big as far as I was concerned.

There was this smell in the air. A smell that comforts me even today. Even in my darkest moments remembering that smell seems to make everything better.

I saw the farmhands in the distance working in the fields. We drove up to a modest house where he parked the jeep.

"Here's your home for the next year kid. It don't look like much but it works for me."

We unloaded my stuff and put it on the porch. He opened the screen door for me and led me inside the house.

He gave me a quick tour of the house. Showed me the kitchen, living room, dining room and led me upstairs to my room where we put all my stuff on the bed that had already been set for me. Something caught my attention. A set of ten, twenty, thirty-five and fifty pound dumbbell in a rack beside my bed. Right beside my closet was a rather large, black heavy bag. I simply dismissed this as "cool" and went back with Tybult.

He then led me into the basement that was very well finished. With fluorescent lights and a couple ceiling fans but the one thing that stood out beyond anything else was an octagon shaped ring with padded tops and corners.

When I saw this my jaw dropped. This was the coolest thing my eight year old eyes had ever seen.

"When we're not working we'll be training. Every single day for a year. I'll also be homeschooling you too."

The farm itself was actually owned by my uncle's friend but where he's been retired for quite some time, Tybult was the only official owner. So the house was Tybult's now. He also oversaw the activities and works his fingers to the bone like everyone else there.

I really didn't do anything that day. I ate dinner and just watched T.V. until about 9:30 then he sent me off to bed. No big deal right? Well, tomorrow was gonna kick my ass.

I woke up in the floor from where my bed was flipped over. With my heart racing I pushed the mattress off of me.

"What the heck was that about?!" I yelled at my uncle. He just crossed his arms like my dad does and laughs at me.

"Well that woke ya up didn't it kid? You'll be fine. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Never forget that Drake."

Those words will repeat a lot in the time I'm there. "Never forget that Drake." The first one was "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

Over time I would wonder why he feeding me these words of wisdom.

Anyway we went downstairs and ate breakfast. Food with enough fat, protein, carbs and sugar to power a truck for a year. Once we were done I put on the clothes that Tybult gave me and I went to outside with him.

The rest of my memories are mostly blurs of working. Learning how to till soil, cut tobacco and shuck corn and many other things. Taught me how to dig a well, purify water with sand and charcoal and to boil it. The three sisters method of planting crops and many other agricultural techniques.

After my first day of mostly tilling soil my arms, chest, shoulders and back were sore and throbbing. I was sweating, panting and sore. Mostly sore. I didn't talk much while I worked though which impressed everyone else. Nobody expected a "scrawny city boy" to work as hard as I did.

Right before dinner Tybult told me to go up to my room and that he'd be up there shortly. I really thought nothing of it so I did as I was told. I sat down on my bed and waited for him to come upstairs.

I heard the door open and saw Tybult come in. He walked over to the punching bag and motioned me over to it. I hopped off my bed and walked to it. He simply looked at me and two short words escaped his lips:

"Hit it"

I raised an eyebrow and looked at him like he was crazy. Why is he so intent on making me hit it? I didn't question him. I made a fist with my right hand and hit it. I didn't hit it very hard though. Just enough to make a sound and hurt my knuckles a bit.

"Hit it again kid! Harder this time! Imagine it's that little gangsta wannabe punk. Imagine it's him and knock his head off his shoulders!"

His voice got more menacing and louder. I froze up and started shaking like leaf. I was scared as hell to be totally honest.

"C'mon boy! Knock his ass out! Break his jaw! Shatter his teeth! Beat him down! Fuck him up!"

I just got more scared, I've never seen Tybult like this before! I obeyed him out of fear and the knowledge that the screaming would stop if I did. I reared my fist back and hit it. It was a solid impact that time. You could actually hear the flat, loud impact of my knuckles hitting the bag. It started swinging a little bit. My uncle smiled from ear to ear.

"Good job Drake" He said calmly.

I was breathing heavy from the adrenaline and fear. But it felt good. It felt really good hitting it like that. I felt liberated. Like a weight was lifted off my shoulders that's been there since that kid beat me up and embarrassed me. I felt safe once again.

"I know you're scared Drake. But so was I when I first started training with my dad and my brother. When you come back home you'll be able to defend yourself and your baby sister. Now hit the bag again but this time once you hit it with your right hand follow through with your left. Keep doing that until I tell you to stop."

There would be about a week of just this...