Children of the Knight - Michael J. Bowler (best books to read non fiction .txt) 📗

man was up to. She’d wanted to know that Lance was safe, and Lance was not only safe, but apparently quite happy from the look of him. Yet, if she went with Arthur to who knew where and told no one, they could easily make her just disappear, and no one would be the wiser. She considered this possibility for a brief moment. No, she knew, that was not this man’s intent. Lance would never be with him if the guy were dangerous. Lance was too smart for that.

“All right. I’ll come.”

Arthur grinned, a look that struck her as very handsome. Though she hated to admit it, he was very charismatic. He took her by the arm and led her gently into the shadows Lance was waiting. Then the three of them walked to Jenny’s Prius parked in the rear lot that abutted the campus.

Lance sat in the backseat of the compact car and Arthur in front with Jenny. She glanced over when Arthur directed her toward the nearest storm drain entrance. He merely smiled and sat a trifle uncomfortably in his seat. She surmised this must be his first time in a car, and it clearly unnerved him.

Entering through the storm drain grate was the first of many surprises for Jenny that afternoon and evening. Arthur had arranged for Esteban, Darnell, and Reyna to conduct training in his absence, and all was in full swing when the king, Lance, and Jenny arrived.

She gazed about in amazement as they wended their way through the various tunnels. Arthur pointed out the different training areas, sleeping quarters, eating areas, the weapons and clothing storage. Jenny was astonished to see Reyna and her girls teaching teenaged boys how to shoot a bow. Chris especially enchanted her when he latched onto Lance as soon as they entered The Hub, and wouldn’t let go.

Mark and Jack, who’d been sparring with swords and shields, ceased their workout when Arthur and Jenny appeared. Arthur introduced her to the boys, but failed to notice Mark’s lack of cordiality toward her. Jenny saw it, however, and wondered the reason. She was certain she’d never met Mark before. She could feel his angry gaze on her back while she wandered The Hub, and squirmed with discomfort.

All that she had seen rendered Jenny speechless, but what astonished her most of all was the obvious love and fealty these children felt toward Arthur. In her mind, she’d conjured all manner of nefarious scenarios involving the man and his plans for these kids. But maybe Karla was right. Maybe he was teaching them more valuable lessons than they could ever get in school.

Just then, little Chris tugged on Arthur’s luxurious tunic, and the man scooped him into his arms.

“What is it, my boy?”

“Is it dinnertime, Arthur?” Chris responded, eliciting an easy, comfortable laugh from Arthur.

Lance quickly stepped forward and grabbed Chris from Arthur’s arms. “I’ll feed him,” he said, a bit of sullenness in his tone. Then he added, “I mean, you’re… busy.”

He took off before Arthur could respond, but Jenny had noticed the tightness in his voice and frowned. Arthur led her to his throne and seated her carefully in it.

Jenny felt awkward and out of place, but no one was really paying any attention to her except Mark and his angry looks in her direction. She noted from the corner of her eye that his friend Jack looked upset as he tried to engage Mark, but the blond boy wasn’t engaging him back.

What could all that be about?

“Now, milady,” Arthur began, interrupting her thoughts, “that ye have seen my new Round Table, what be your opinion?”

Jenny didn’t really have a response. This was way too much to process all at once. So she shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it depends on what you plan to do.”

He flashed that winning smile, the one that accentuated his good looks, and replied, “I plan to ask you for a favor.”

Her eyebrows rose questioningly.

The following day proceeded much the same as the previous one for Arthur’s young and exuberant knights. They fanned out across the city, searching for cast- off junk they felt could be reused. Today, they targeted construction sites, inquiring if there was any wood or old fixtures that were being tossed out.

At one large site where several buildings were being demolished in preparation for the raising of new ones, a group led by Lavern and Enrique, dressed in older, less fancy tunics for fear of dirtying the newer ones, explained to the foreman of the site what they sought. He told them that most of the area was “hard-hat” and off-limits to them. However he did point out a spot toward the back of the site that was used for the throwaway stuff.

“You boys are welcome to take whatever ya want.”

Lavern and the others, per Arthur’s instructions, thanked the man with a courteous bow before heading off in that direction. The foreman and all the workers gaped at the kids in astonishment.

Lavern and his crew found old wood, not-quite empty paint cans, nails, bathroom fixtures, and a host of other so-called throwaway stuff they felt certain could be used again, and loaded it all into the truck Enrique had driven.

Within the warehouse owned by Mr. R. and Mr. L., Dwayne handed over a large wad of cash and a handgun, setting both onto the table before Mr. R. As always, Mr. L. stood, rather than sat.

Mr. R. studied the slightly jittery Dwayne, eyeing the boy with deep scrutiny. “You seem jumpy, Dwayne. Been sampling my goods again?”

Dwayne’s eyes bulged in fear, and he shook his head. In truth, he had been sampling. R.’s meth was the purest around. “No, sir!” he insisted, but Mr. R.’s eyes told him he knew the boy was lying.

The man stared at him for a long, hard moment. “You’re sure they saw you?”

Dwayne nodded vigorously. “They seen me. Prac’ly stuck my whole head out the winda!”

R. nodded. He snapped his fingers, and one of Mr. L.’s Asian footmen hurried over. R. indicated the handgun. “Dispose of this.”

The young Asian, who looked, to Dwayne, younger than him, scooped up the gun and exited the office.

R. gazed long and hard at Dwayne, who was so hopped up he couldn’t help shifting from foot to foot. “Villalobos was the target, Dwayne, not his little sister, and even at that, the girl didn’t die.”

“It was hard, Mr. R., trying ta shoot an’ make sure they all seen me too,” Dwayne protested. “Plus that fool Marquis be swervin’ the car too much fo’ me ta aim!”

He was sweating now, profusely.

Mr. R. drummed his fingers lightly against the wood of his desktop. “I wanted a gang war, Dwayne,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “It appears this King Arthur has robbed me of that. He’s becoming a liability, and I can’t have that.”

“That ain’t my fault, Mr. R.!” Dwayne exclaimed, his voice cracking with fear.

R. sighed again. “I suppose not. Mr. L.?”

L. stepped forward and pulled a wad of bills from his thousand-dollar suit pocket and handed them to Dwayne. “For selling, and half for the shooting, because you missed the target. Do you have a problem with that?”

Dwayne hurriedly pocketed the cash and shook his head vigorously, anxious to get out of there.

“You may go.”

Dwayne gave a nod to Mr. L., glanced once more at R., who was lighting a cigar, and then bolted from the office.

Jack and Chris played catch in the river basin near the grate entrance to Arthur’s underground kingdom. Much as they enjoyed all the training and sparring with weaponry, the shadowy darkness of those tunnels got to everyone after a while, so they’d go topside and soak up the sunlight or play ball or just walk and hang out.

Arthur would not allow them to practice swordplay or archery outside during the day for fear they would be spotted. While Chris idolized Lance above all others, Jack knew the boy loved him for his muscles and athleticism and because Jack could always make him laugh.

Jack had been teaching Chris how to throw and catch a football for the past hour. The California sun was setting with its usual kaleidoscope of red and orange and gold, and Jack knew Arthur and Lance would likely be at the park with that teacher lady by now. He considered the implications of Arthur’s idea. So far, the gathering of materials for Operation Clean-Up—a name Mark had come up with—had been going well.

But tonight, Arthur planned to introduce himself and the crusade to the city at large, and that might change everything for him, Mark and all the kids. Would it change for better or for worse? So far, people had been confused, but nice, when Arthur’s knights had asked for their cast-off junk. But what would everyone else say? Would the police and politicians try to stop them? The future, which seemed so clear and joyous the evening he’d been knighted, now suddenly seemed very cloudy and uncertain.

As he and Chris tossed the ball back and forth, Jack’s eyes kept flitting involuntarily to Mark, who sat on a concrete balustrade deep in thought and looking forlorn. Jack had told Mark about his talk with Lance and how they were all buds now, and that seemed to please his friend. But there was something eating away at Mark, and Jack felt despairingly certain he knew what it was.

Chris tossed him a long bomb—for a six-year-old—with a perfect spiral. Jack easily plucked it from the air and trotted over to high five the boy.

“That was perfect, Chris!” he enthused. “I couldn’t throw a spiral like that at your age. NFL, here you come.” Chris laughed with delight, and they high-fived again.

As they did, Jack caught another glimpse of Mark. His best friend hadn’t budged for the entire hour. Now was the time.

“Go on in now, Chris,” he told the boy, tossing him the football. “It’s getting dark.”

Chris beamed excitedly. “Thanks, Jack, for all the tips. I’m gonna be a big, buff football player when I grow up. Just like you.”

Jack grinned down at the small boy who’d already grown so much in the past few the months. “You know it, little man.”

Chris got that devilish look in his eye that always made Jack smile. “Can I punch you one more time ’fore I go in?”

Jack laughed, as always. “Sure.” Chris had recently discovered how hard Jack’s abs were, and he loved punching them because he said it was like hitting a wall.

Pulling back his small fist dramatically, Chris punched with all his might. His fist impacted with Jack’s solid abs. “Ow!” he screamed dramatically, shaking his hand as though he’d broken it.

Jack chuckled.

“Gonna have those too,” Chris insisted, still shaking his hand.

Jack tousled his shaggy blond hair. “That you will. Now head on in. Almost dinnertime.”

Chris beamed that innocent, trusting smile that melted Jack’s heart and almost made him feel innocent again too.

Almost….

The little boy darted through the grate and vanished into the darkness.

Jack watched him depart and then turned to gaze at Mark, who looked both beautiful and sad beneath the reddish glow of the setting sun. A light breeze ruffled Jack’s unruly hair, and the ever- present sound of freeway traffic in the distance filled the coming night. Sighing, and with a heavy heart, he approached the boy he loved and sat beside him.

Hoping he was wrong, he decided to try a light approach. “Okay, Marky Mark, out with it. You been in the dumps all day,