Legacy

Chapter 2

A light shines in my face, fricken LED's. The person holding the flashlight is oulined, there silohuettte easily six-foot-two, hefty, but not in muscle, he was fat, like one of those sumo wrestlers.                    

"Who are you?" He spoke anxiously, and I can hear him shaking, obiously frightened, he must be knew.  

"Your worst nightmare." I say flatly, reciting one of my favorite movies.  

"Boy don't mess with me," He growls, his anxiety flowing away like a river, "You don't know who I am." My hand inches toward my pocket, groping for the comforting grip of my semi-automatic pistol.  

"Actually, I know exactly who you are," I say, my confindence csharp in my tone as my hand wraps swiftly around my gun. He is new, inexperienced, I'm lucky.

" You are a new guy, and obviously not a very bright one." I enunciate the last words, knowing I hit his sweet spot, and rolled to the left justas he slammed his large fist into the ground where my head had been. I spun to my knees firing two shots in succession, but not at him. The bullets skyrocketed, ramming into the tree limbs above. His large body hitting the ground to avoid my shots that the earth shook.

"Those were warning shots, the next won't be. Get my jist." I growled, watching his eyes, full of fear, hatred, and acceptance of defeat. "The way I see it bud, you have three choices. Fight, which leads to death, walk away and never come back, which will lead to eventual death, or join me." I could see him pondering,but not hard, he had a question.                                                                                        

"What if I join you?" He asked, his voice quivering slightly, but I heard it. He was afraid, I could tell                                                                                                                                                                                        

"We'll see. won't we." And I turned to leave. I walked for ten paces, counting, knowing what to expect. I turned around as soon as I heard the thundering of his footsteps.        

"So what's your real name?" I asked, the hefty man-child walking beside me. His voice was no longer that of a frightened child, but calm, collected, intelligent.

"Arthur, my friends call me Art." He looked at me, and I regarded him with a distant, absent look, showing no sign of interest, yet that I was still inquisitive.

"I'm Jake, from America. I lived in Florida, with my Dad." A question crossed his mind, but he suppressed it.

"What? Ask me. If we are going to be partners, there shouldn't be any secrets.

"Well, was he brought into here with you?" His voice wavered at 'he' but he continued anyway.

"Yeah. He was a good guy. We met a girl in here. She joined us, we were kind of a thing. The Watchers got to them, they didn't have a chance." I spoke, the sadness evident in my voice, a tear welled up into my eye, but I brushed it away.

"What was her name?" He asked me this as if we were old pals chatting at the diner about my new girlfriend, his voice full of interest and it hurt me, the memory of her.

" I... I can't, I'm sorry." This is weak, I shouldn't get emotional, I can't, not in here.