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Episode
014
“Some martial arts are very pleasing to the eye. They are flashy
and use fancy moves. Beware, they are like wine which has been watered
down. Other martial arts are like olives. They have a tang, a kick. They
may not be as fancy, but you know they are genuine. Many people develop a
taste for olives. No one ever developed a taste for watered down wine.”
“You heard about the shooting on campus, right?” Marilyn asked,
as she bent over, stretching her side. “Right near the coffee house?”
“I heard.” Alan said, as he sat cross-legged, stretching his
right arm over his head. Dressed in simple sweats and a loose t-shirt, his
gangly height made him stand out, even as he sat. “I heard that Victor
and Tim saved the day.”
“I know.” Kim exclaimed, completing the circle of friends.
“Victor said that he and Tim ran off the sniper.”
“What did Tim say?” Alan asked, stretching the other arm.
“You know, I haven’t really seen him since last night.” Kim
said. She looked to Marilyn. “What about you? You seen him?” Marilyn
shook her head. “He’s a bit of a recluse.” She muttered. She spread
her leg out, bending her body over to touch the tip of her sneaker. “Do
you think letting him into the Alliance so quickly as a good idea?”
“He seems really dedicated.” Marilyn said. “And he can keep
up with you and Victor.” She added, looking to Alan. “That’s not an
easy thing to do.”
“I guess.” Alan shrugged. He looked at Marilyn a wry smile
appearing on her face. “I thought you two were together?” He asked.
“When was the last time you went out on a date?”
“Date?” Marilyn said, laughing. “We don’t have time for a
date. I’m too busy with classes and running the Alliance.”
“Malcolm’s the president, but I founded it.” Marilyn said.
“It’s my baby. And besides, Victor and I know hoe we feel. We don’t
need to date to show it.”
“Fair enough.” Alan shrugged.
The two rows stood before their teacher, their white dobaks
standing taut against their out-stretched arms. “Six!” Yelled the
teacher. In a blaze of motion, the chambered arms shot out as the extended
arms came back in, then the two reversed instantly, then went back again.
The original arm was left out, while the group remained standing, panting.
“Seven!” Yelled the teacher. Again, the students moved in rapid
succession, their arms moving like lightning.
The padded footfalls echoed in Victor’s ears as he ran around the
indoor circle. His walkman blared music into his ears, but he focused on
trying to keep moving. The circle passed by him quickly. Starting again
all too soon. He passed the clock, checking his time. “Not bad.” He
said to himself.
He came around to the side of the hallway, his pace staying
constant through the curve. In the dim lights of the evening, the in-door
track hung hauntingly close to him. And in the isolation of the university
gym, he felt distanced from everything.
But as he came back around to the front of the college gymnasium he
ran in, he saw a man sitting on the stairs, stretching in his sweats and a
shirt. He had black skin, darker than Victor’s, a toned body that looked
like black granite.
Too quickly, Victor raced by the man. He glanced behind him, to see
the other student coming up to the starting line. “Oh good grief.”
Victor said to himself. He smiled. “Now, I’m just going to have to
embarrass you.”
A second set of padded footfalls echoed through the in-door track.
Victor let the music in his ears carry his heart as he raced on.
The track spread out before him, but he kept glancing back, to catch a
glimpse of the other runner before he disappeared with the curve of the
track. Victor smiled. He might even come up behind the other runner.
The footfalls closed in.
Victor listened closely over his music, listening to the echoes as
he turned the curve of the circuit. The footfalls were getting closer. He
took a chance and glanced over his shoulder as he came around the open
bend of the track.
The other runner was right behind him.
Victor pressed himself to run faster. His feet carried him with a
quicker intensity and all too soon, his lung began to burn with a new
pain. He broke his stride for a jog and started to run at a fast pace,
trying to get ahead of the other runner. On the inside of the track, he
had the distance advantage, the curve moving technically faster for him.
But when he glanced over, his jaw dropped.
The footsteps sounded right next to him.
Victor looked over, to see the other student coming running around
the bend. His hands were empty, devoid of the usual apparatus for
listening to during the long run. Victor looked down at the man’s feet,
seeing his casual gate, even at the high speed. As the runner moved past
Victor, the look in his eyes shocked Victor. It was a calm, casual look.
Not a look of someone who was running or sprinting.
It was the look of someone who was out for a nightly jog.
“Twenty!”
The arms shot out, rechambered, and shot out again. The line of
students panted and sweated as they stood before their teacher, the class
only half over. “Good work.” He said to the students, his Korean
accent thick with his old age. “Now. Sparring.” A large noise rose
from the class, some with delight, others with dread. “Full-contact.”
He added, smiling at the varied looks.
Marilyn threw a punch at Kim, but the girl blocked the blow,
narrowly redirecting it out of the way. In return, she threw out her hand,
only to have it blocked by Marilyn. The two circled as they punched, the
intense cycle of punch, block, and counter-punch following through
endlessly.
“Okay.” Called the teacher, at the front of the school. He held
up his hands, getting everyone’s attention. “Guys, I’ve got to run.
My mom’s sick.” There was some snickering and some noise, but everyone
stayed at attention.
“As you know, I teach three styles of kung fu here.” He went
on. “Shaolin, Wing Chun, and then, finally, Dim Mak. Well, since I’ve
got to go, I’m going to go ahead and dismiss the novice and intermediate
Shaolin students. Advanced Shaolin students, though, you guys are going to
stay on with my student from my advanced Dim Mak class.”
The teacher stepped aside as a young black man stepped forward. He
was dressed in traditional silken kung fu pants, but a long-sleeved
t-shirt covered his chest. “This is Ledger.” The teacher said,
motioning to the student teacher. “He’ll be teaching the remainder of
the advanced class.”
“Malcolm.” Came the thick voice. Malcolm turned around, still
attaching his chest pad, having trouble with the thick foam-dipped gloves
he wore over his hands. The teacher walked up, leading a younger student.
“If you would, I’d like you to spar with Armand here for the class.”
Malcolm looked the student up and down. He wore a Karate gi rather
than a Tae Kwon Do dobak, but the lining around the heavy canvas jacket
was still black. Around his waist, he wore a red belt, with a black stripe
in the center. Malcolm glanced down at his solid black belt, then looked
to his teacher. “Sir, if you really think so.”
“He’s very good.” The teacher said.
“No I’m not.” Armand protested humbly.
“I’m game.” Malcolm said. The two students stepped into the
back of the room, the others watching.
“Ready.” The teacher said, standing in the middle, his arm
raised. Armand held up his two fingers to the teacher, saluting between
his eyes. Malcolm nodded to the teacher. The teacher’s hand dropped in a
fast chop. “Fight!” He shouted.
Armand flew in at Malcolm, swinging out with a hard side kick.
Malcolm stepped back from the kick, only to watch as Armand spun with the
momentum, spinning around as he lifted into the air. His rear leg came
back from behind, slicing through the air at Malcolm. Malcolm threw up his
hands to block the kick.
The impact knocked Malcolm back, inspite of his bracing for it. He
slammed into the wall hard, shock running through him. His arms felt like
he had just been hit with a baseball bat. He looked up, to see Armand
still coming.
Malcolm threw out a low kick to slow Armand’s approach, then he
spun around, swinging his leg in a tight round-house. Armand blocked the
kick, then slammed his own leg into Malcolm’s stomach, knocking the
martial artist to the ground.
Malcolm threw his legs up as soon as he hit the ground, his
determination flaring. He rolled back up onto his hands, then kicked his
legs forward, kipping up to his feet. He landed ready, and Armand came in.
Armand threw a fast kick for Malcolm’s head, but the student
ducked under it, swinging at Armand with a fast punch. Armand blocked the
punch with both his arms like a boxer, then he rocketed forward, slamming
his fist into Malcolm’s face. The punch knocked Malcolm back, only for
him to get knocked down to the ground by a hard hook punch.
Malcolm lay on the floor, panting and in shock. He looked up at
Armand, but the other fighter stood waiting, his hands ready. He wasn’t
even panting. |