Chapter 18
Law 51
Tears Are for the Weak
Akeem worked tirelessly by Doc’s side for hours. The amount of injured boys tolled in the high twenties. They stitched wounds, set broken limbs, soothed burns, and calmed a few boys that were not yet accustomed to the mayhem of Fifteen. Akeem was numb, emotionless. He worked without looking into the faces of the injured boys. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t provide words of comfort. He left that to Doc. It was the only way to get through it, the only way to deal with the horror of it all. He just went on, functioning like a mindless machine—unyielding, cold, and distant.
The sky showed the faintest glimmer of light when the camp was finally cleared of the dead and injured. Akeem turned wearily toward his shelter, anxious to lie down and close his tired eyes. Doc pulled him on.
“There will be no one on the ground for the next few days. We must take to the trees,” Doc muttered.
“Cruz,” Akeem mumbled weakly.
“Already been moved.”
Akeem was too tired to think anymore; he just followed Doc and a handful of other weary boys toward the Trapped Forest. They trudged through the campground, heads down, minds beaten. Akeem was so tired, he could have fallen asleep walking if not for the fear of another Angel attack.
“How did they get through our defenses?” a boy asked despairingly.
“It’s been years since Angels were bold enough to enter the Dog House. We have become lax, overconfident.” Doc shook his head.
“But why? Why now?” Akeem wondered aloud.
“They probably came for their girl,” another boy offered. This revelation hit Akeem hard. They came for Piper? No! His tired mind reeled. She was his only link to Quinn. He still needed information. He raced off into the trees without another word.
“Akeem! Where are you going?” Doc shouted, exasperated.
“I’ll be back,” Akeem responded without breaking his stride. How he found the energy to go on he did not know, but he was thankful for it. He raced through the trees and skidded to a halt when he heard Big Red’s rumbling snores. He tiptoed over to the pit and looked down into its blackness.
“Piper?” he whispered. Although she didn’t answer, shuffling and startled breathing confirmed she was still there. He sighed with relief. “Did fatso give you food?” A gnawed rabbit bone flew through the bars and bounced off his head. “You’re welcome,” he hissed sarcastically before turning to the red-haired boy. He kicked him in his ample rump hard enough to roll him a few feet, then he grabbed the boy by the arm and yanked him up roughly. His arms would hurt later from the strain but for now he was too angry to feel anything. He pushed and shoved the stammering boy out of the clearing and far enough away so that the girl in the pit couldn’t hear.
“The Dog House has been attacked. Gideon’s been taken. They came for the girl. You’re lucky I caught you sleeping and not Thaniel or you would be walking the left side of the path right now,” Akeem snarled menacingly, making the boys knees quake. “Stay awake!” Akeem bellowed then pushed the boy so hard he fell to the ground and flipped over backward.
Akeem could barely hold back his rage. This idiot could have cost him his only chance of finding Quinn. He wanted to rip the kid’s head off with his bare hands. He started toward the boy with his hands fisted. The red-haired boy scooted back on all fours, cowering and blubbering apologies as he went. A memory of his father brought him to an abrupt stop.
His father had been applying ice to Akeem’s swollen eye. “What happened?” he asked.
“Some big kids were picking on Tyrone,” Akeem cried.
“But why do you have a black eye?” his father asked between fitful coughs.
“I couldn’t let them beat him up, Daddy.” To Akeem’s surprise his father swooped him up into his arms and spun him around.
“It’s much easier to be a bully than it is to be a hero. I am very proud of you for sticking up for your friend. So proud, I’m taking you to get ice cream! Double scoop.”
“Mom’s gonna kill us,” Akeem said, smiling from ear to ear.
“Yup, but it’ll be worth it.”
Akeem’s eyes misted as he thought of that last fun day with his father. Then he looked at the cowering boy in front of him. The boy was frightened of him, terrified. The thought was like a slap to the face. He looked at the scared kid, and his anger melted away as swiftly as it had flared up. What was he doing? He was picking on a helpless kid. This boy was probably put in this dark corner of the forest because he couldn’t defend himself worth a damn. He looked down at the boy cringing at his feet, and then took several steps back. Akeem was overcome with shame. He felt like a bully, a thug. He turned away, disgusted with himself, and stormed off back toward camp. What was happening to him? What was he becoming? How could he have lost control so suddenly and completely? The thought of losing Quinn had driven him to the brink of insanity. He was appalled by the realization that he really didn’t care about Piper’s well being; his only concern was that she stayed alive long enough to lead him to Quinn. Bile rose in his throat and he struggled not to vomit. He looked up at the sky for answers but none came. Mouse’s last words echoed through his mind. Keem, I want to go home. At the moment, Akeem wanted to go home too. But even if he found a way out, he couldn’t leave. Not without Quinn. He shook his dreads and walked on.
The sun rose and with it came some much-needed light to the dark forest. He stomped through the trees angry at the world, mad at the situation he was stuck in, but mostly, irritated with himself. Was he turning into a monster, losing his mind like the majority of the boys in Fifteen?
A flash of stumbling feet caught his eye. He stood stock-still, senses on high alert. Someone was out there. Whoever it was heard him coming and stopped moving. Akeem squinted through the dim light, searching for movement. Suddenly, there was a faltering of feet and a heavy body hit the ground hard.
“Bloody hell,” a voice moaned, making Akeem’s heart leap. He dashed forward and pounced on the huddled form. “Gerroff me, you devil!” Gideon said weakly.
Akeem laughed. “I thought the Angels got you.”
“No Angel nor devil can hold Gideon Stone. Pinched a knife off one of them bush pigs, cut me way free of their net, and fought me way out. I ran, they chased. Couldn’t lead ’em back to camp, so I cut into the forest. Big mistake, mate.” It wasn’t until then that Akeem noticed the bleeding gash on Gideon’s head.
“What happened?”
“Thaniel and his beastly traps. Got me melon cracked a good one.”
“Come on, let’s get you to Doc.” It took far longer than it should have to get back through the Trapped Forest. Gideon’s head injury seemed to get worse the longer they walked. He began to mumble incoherently and stumbled too many times to count. It was a struggle just keeping the boy on his feet. At one point, Gideon punched Akeem in the eye, called him Larry, and tried to run off. Akeem had to put him in a leghold to calm him down. Finally, as the sun was reaching its apex, several boys walking sentry found them struggling on at a snail’s pace.
“Akeem found Gideon!” One of the boys shouted into the sky. The call echoed through the trees, picked up and passed on by others.
“We need to get him to Doc, quick,” Akeem stated. The boys formed a litter with their hands and carried Gideon toward camp with Akeem following wearily behind.
Doc’s pod was one of the largest and stood nearly in the center of the sprawling tree city. It took the boys no time to jerry-rig a lift that safely raised Gideon the fifty feet to the landing that circled Doc’s tree house. It took much longer to manhandle him inside the abnormally shaped pod. The interior of the pod held a tiny sitting area that could accommodate three people if they didn’t mind their knees touching. Several hollowed out gourds filled with handmade candles burned, casting a calming glow. Overhead, staggered like enormous steps, were narrow, wooden cubbies, carved into the trunk of the enormous tree. Within each cubby was a bed covered in animal pelts. Cr
uz rested fitfully in the nearest one. Akeem’s eyes traveled up a slim bamboo ladder and across a narrow footpath. He gazed longingly at one of the cozy-looking beds. His tired eyes had never seen anything that looked so good in all his life. He wanted to burrow into one and sleep for the next two weeks. He looked back at Doc, who was cautiously examining Gideon.
“Bugger off, Larry!” Gideon shouted, beating the air with his fists.
“Ouch!” Doc gasped as one of Gideon’s flailing limbs whacked him across the bridge of his nose, sending his glasses flying.
“Who’s Larry?” Akeem asked, picking Doc’s glasses up and handing them back. He patted Gideon’s shoulder absently.
Doc shrugged. “No idea.”
“How’s he looking?”
“We have to close up that head wound, and he’s got a nasty slice on his leg also. A millimeter to the left and he would have bled out in three minutes. It’s too bad really.” Doc had said the last part under his breath. “He will need stitches, and he appears to have a dangerous concussion. Well, it’s either a concussion or he’s finally slipped completely into madness. He’s been doddering on the edge for years.” Doc chuckled as he poured something viscous into a wooden cup and handed it to Akeem. “Here, make him drink this while I stitch up his leg.” Making Gideon do anything he didn’t want to, even with a cracked head proved an indomitable feat, but Akeem managed to get him to drink most of the brew while Doc stitched his leg with professional efficiency.
“I hope that was something that will knock his big butt out because I only have one good eye left,” Akeem said, touching his tender eye with one hand and blocking Gideon’s fists with the other.
“I’m afraid to put him under; he could slip into a coma and die. We have to keep him awake.” Doc said.
“For how long?”
“Eight hours, ten to be sure.” Doc heaved a sigh as he started to work on the gash on Gideon’s head. Akeem’s hopes of getting any rest dwindled.
“Can’t we just let him go to sleep, we never liked him very much anyway,” Akeem kidded. Doc laughed tiredly and shook his head.
“Larry,” Gideon grumbled. “Can’t take much more of this.”
Doc looked at Akeem. “Keep him still, will you?” he pleaded. Akeem huffed then squatted in front of Gideon.
“Somehow it’s all connected to ’im, isn’t it? It’s all ’is doing,” Gideon whispered fiercely, eyes red, veins bulging in his neck. He grabbed a fist full of Akeem’s shirt and pulled him so close he sprayed the poor boy with spittle.
“Don’t worry; we’ll get him to talk,” Akeem said, playing along with Gideon’s delusion. “He’ll tell us everything; just calm down before you bust a blood vessel.” Akeem peeled Gideon’s fingers from his shirt. Doc sat back on his heels and looked at his handiwork. He had managed to put four stitches in Gideon’s head without him noticing.
“Ok, the hard part’s done,” Doc said while rinsing his hands in a bowl full of water. “Let’s get him cleaned up, and then we must get him up and walking.” Akeem hung his head in despair.
Gideon grabbed him by the dreads and pulled his head up. “You listenin’ to me, Larry? ’E knows the way out. ’E’s known for ages!” Suddenly Akeem was wide awake, his head was buzzing. He glanced at Doc and noticed that he was frozen, his eyes wide and arms hovering in the air. Akeem leaned in closer.
“The way out of where?”
“This devilish place,” Gideon growled. His haunted eyes gazed around and his hands grabbed at the air as if he wished to take the whole of Fifteen and squish it in his fingers.
“Somebody knows a way out?” Doc asked dumbfounded, but Akeem never took his eyes off Gideon’s crazed face.
Akeem urged gently. “Tell your buddy Larry. Who knows the way out of Fifteen?”
“That blue-eyed duffer knows,” Gideon hissed. Akeem looked at Doc. His mouth opened then closed, he had no words. Doc’s face was flushed, his eyes enormous. “Thaniel! Thaniel knows the way out of Fifteen!” Gideon bellowed.