Walking to School

[Cyco†]

((continued from Stopping for the Night))

Neilson's Muay Thai had been significantly downgraded. Formerly located in a small but adequate building downtown, next to a music shop, Reg Neilson had been forced to move the whole setup into his even smaller home due to lack of income. It was true the old guy had put forth quite an effort to make the place more accommodating for martial arts training; his living room cleared out save for a TV in the corner with a Buddha figurine perched on top, the basement equipped with the punching and kicking bags that had adorned the old club, and he'd even managed to hang on to the old gym sign, keeping it out on the front porch so the small house was easier to spot. But it certainly wasn't drawing in new students like the old place did. It looked unprofessional.

Up at the head of the living room sat Neilson in his wheelchair, decked out in his black club shirt and red jogging suit he wore every class. He was very old, 74 actually, and his health had been steadily deteriorating for the last seven or eight years. Bryan, among the other veteran students, remembered when Neilson needed only a cane to get around. Now he was reduced to dragging himself stubbornly along in his chair with his legs, refusing any help to push him. And he'd recently lost a couple teeth in a nasty fall the previous winter, having to get a new false set that burned a hole in his pocket. But he was a tough sonofabitch, he still was, and he always maintained a surprising optimism despite his poor health, wealth and living conditions.

"If it's not one thing it's another," he'd smile as he would say, pronouncing all of his S's as SH's as he always did. Neilson had accomplished quite a lot over his lifetime; he was a Korean War veteran, an 8th degree Tae Kwon Do blackbelt, a 9-time North American kickboxing champion, and a grandfather. To Bryan he was a close friend. Closer than anyone his age, even, but that wasn't saying much.

On this occasion a fellow student--Derek was his name--was discussing his plans to join the military with Neilson after class. He wanted to train to become a sniper and go fight in the middle east. Neilson was against it, and expressed his displeasure with the idea accordingly. He said, "If that's what you want, you'd better wave goodbye to your friends, your family and your entire life." This was the expected response from someone who had suffered grenade shrapnel in his spine and lost every single one of his close highschool friends in combat. Bryan hadn't been able to help but listen in as he stood at the door putting on his boots. He wasn't sure if Derek would heed Neilson's warning, and he had no intentions of joining the army anyway, but he would always remember those words.

~~~

Bryan made his way over the wide expressway separating the hotel and the expanse of mottled brown grass leading to the industrial zone. It was starting to rain, just as that prick Danya had promised. He'd retrieved his daypack from the lobby on his way out of the hotel and caught Mari and Tori's message. They said to meet at the school building. So did Seth. Either they'd planned it out from the beginning or the school was a popular destination at that point during the game. Bryan hoped it was the former, because he was really hurting for some sleep and didn't want to be bothered by anyone.

The industrial yard was ahead, where he'd traded shots with that SMG guy on day one. That sucked ass. It had been impossible to get the upper hand with such a short-range weapon on so much open ground. That reflection reminded him that he had to conserve his ammo; he had fifteen shots left, and no backup weapon if and when he ran out.

'Just get to the school first and we'll worry about that later,' he said to himself as he headed toward the familiar industrial yard.

((continued in The Wicked Game))