Chapter 3

Decker and his Gang

∞

“I can’t believe you didn’t punish that bitch right then and there!” Cree Duffman said to Decker. He was leaning up against the outer wall of their fort and watching Decker tend to his busted nose. “You gonna go see a doc?” he added.

Decker was gently placing toilet paper wads up his nose, wincing and grimacing as he did it, and taking his dear sweet time. Tending to his swollen nose didn’t keep his eyes away from the crimson stain on his shirt and jacket, however. After he finished blocking his olfactory passages, he stood up, and glared at Cree. “You’re not very smart, are you?”

Cree gave him an empty look, but said nothing.

“You’re new to the group, so I’m gonna cut you some slack, and educate you a little. When someone wrongs us we get better than even, but we don’t lose our heads about it,” he said as he walked over to the corner of their fort. He reached into the corner and picked up an Eskrima stick made out of rattan, and tossed it to Cree. He turned back, grabbed one for himself, and headed for the door leading out. “Follow me,” he ordered.

Cree looked down at the weapon in his hand. His shoulders drooped slightly and his gaze was returned to the fort’s corner. The Eskrima staffs weren’t the only weapons stacked there. The corner had accumulated an array of hand to hand combat weapons and armor. There were swords in scabbards, daggers, chain mail and breast plates, nunchucks and metal helmets. Cree couldn’t help but wonder what he’d gotten himself into. He shrugged it off and followed Decker outside.

Decker had removed his blood stained leather jacket and was maneuvering his Eskrima in a skilled combat display. The rest of his cronies were gathered around and were watching. “This is your first lesson so I will go easy on you,” he announced as Cree exited the fort. “Take off your jacket and stand in front of me.”

Cree followed his instructions. Seeing Decker with his staff reminded him of why he had joined the group. He wanted to learn to defend himself against his father.

“You don’t ever react to a situation based solely on emotion. I didn’t pound that bitch at the festival because I couldn’t have done it the way it needed to be done,” he said as he swung his staff over his head and twirled it in front of Cree. His movements were fluid and graceful and the four-foot staff made whooshing noises as it cut through the air. “It’s much better for us to wait. I know Jacob well enough to know that he won’t get a ride home. They’ll spend the day laughing it up at the festival and then walk home. We’ll ambush them on their way so it can be done proper. If I would have reacted at the festival I would have had to go light on her. I would have had to limit my response—use restraint. She doesn’t deserve restraint!”

Cree continued to watch and listen to Decker as his Eskrima staff whirled around his body with blurring speed. Decker’s feet were positioned in an athletic stance; his wrists remained flexible as he switched his hands back and forth working it in a baton like fashion. He twirled it over his head, on each side of him, sometimes going behind his back, and sometimes in front. The staff never stopped moving and continually whirred through the air.

“Isn’t that a little extreme? I mean, she is just some girl. She’s what? Eleven? Twelve?” Cree asked his mentor.

“Wasn’t what she did to my nose extreme?” Decker returned. “Did I threaten her? Did I push her to the ground and stomp on her face before she busted my nose? No! All I did was ask for a little respect and reach out to grab her arm. In return she busted my friggin’ nose! So NO ... cramming my staff where the sun doesn’t shine is a perfectly reasonable response! Besides that, the things coming down the pike will require some extreme thinking, and if you’re smart you’ll get with the program. Now get into an athletic stance and lemme show you how to use that thing.”