[First Draft Sneak Peak] Outside Chapter 9 Part 1
Chapter 9 Part 1: Sam Learns to Fight
“You want me to what?” Tyre looked at Sam through wide eyes, shaking his head as if his mind were invaded by an annoying sound.
Sam never got over his initial fear of Tyre. He knew that the whole ‘chopping off the head’ thing was a lie, a computer-generated fabrication. However, most of his life was a computer-generated fabrication. That didn’t disqualify its personal impact. It was his life. It was his experience. Part of that experience was Tyre the decapitator. Tyre was, after all, a man of violence. The particular images of Sam’s experience may not have been valid, but that didn’t mean that Tyre had never actually cut someone’s head off--or more crucially, wasn’t capable of cutting someone’s head off…namely Sam’s.
“I...uh...I want you to teach me how to fight.” Sam’s voice cracked in a pathetic attempt to sound confident.
“You want me to teach you how to fight.” Tyre mocked. “To fight? You?”
Sam nodded and set his jaw. His eyes betrayed his insecurity.
Tyre was standing with Sylvia, Doc and Felix, a member of the central crew whom he had assigned as part of the scouting team. Sam had walked up behind him and remained courteously quiet while they conducted their discussion. When there was a break in the conversation, Sam politely, but not a little desperately, cleared his throat for attention.
Tyre shook his head as Sam nodded, openly mocking the thought of teaching this Walldweller to fight. “No.” was his answer, and he turned his back.
“Tyre,” Sylvia admonished. “Hear him out.”
“Hear him out? He wants me to teach him how to fight.” Tyre pressed his knuckles into Felix’s thick, muscled chest. “I work with guys like this. Guys who’ve been fightin’ their whole lives, born with clubs and chains in their hands. Now he wants to learn how to fight. He can’t hardly lift his own body weight.”
Sylvia shook her head. “He’s not the same man we found being chased by a Roverbot eight months ago. He’s much stronger now. Sam’s been lifting his weight and then some. He and Syd have pulled that cart probably two hundred miles. Look at him.”
It was true. Sam was physically and noticeably transformed by his time with Abode. He was no longer soft. His muscles were tight, like guitar strings. His once doughy, pear-shaped waist was now lean, his pants tied in crumpled creases with a length of twine. The muscles on his arms were clear and defined under firm, tan skin. The stooping posture from a life of sitting and reclining had been pulled back on what were now square shoulders. He still had a limp from his experience with the Roverbot. The joints in his legs, shoulders and back were still stiff and occasionally spasmed in tight knots of pain. For the most part, however, Sam was now able to keep up with almost all of the Abode. Even pulling the cart and Syd’s supplies no longer caused him to fall hopelessly behind. When the Abode stopped to make camp, Sam and Syd were there rather than catching up after sundown, consigned to eating a cold dinner.
On the other hand, Sam was nowhere near able to keep up with Tyre’s crew. Even Philippa, her leg still weak from her injury, outpaced him. Upon reflection, it was pretty arrogant of Sam to ask to be a part of this number. But there it was.
“It’s about Philippa.” Sylvia whispered into Tyre’s ear. “They’ve been getting close. He wants to be able to protect her.”
Tyre’s voice raised a decibel. “Protect Philippa? Philippa can fight. Let Philippa protect him!”
Sylvia shook her head and crossed her arms, “I can fight, too, Tyre. That doesn’t stop you from wanting to protect me.”
Her husband’s eyes went wide. He hated it when she made a point he could not counter...which was typical in most discussions. She was, after all, much smarter than he was. They both knew it. More often than not, when it came to non-tactical matters, she was right on her side of any disagreement.
But this was a tactical matter...
...or was it?
Now Tyre wasn’t so sure.
Sam jumped into the conversation. “It’s not just that.” he almost whispered.
“Well?” Tyre, Felix and Sylvia stared at him as if they were not expecting him to have anything further to say. This issue would be decided without any further input on his part.
“I see what you guys are doing as you lead Abode north. I see the scouting parties come and I see you change directions subtly. Sometimes you take the more difficult routes, and I don’t think you are doing that because we need the exercise. You are doing that because there are dangerous people around, other communities, gangs maybe, and you are trying to avoid them.”
Tyre nodded. “Yeah. A few times we encountered tribes and gangs. We avoid their territory and they leave us alone. What of it?”
“Law of averages.” Sam replied. “Eventually we are going to wander into a tribal area or gang territory. You are going to miss the signs, or you are not going to see them, or they are going to see us first, or there won’t be a detour. Maybe they’ll be in the process of expanding their territory and we walk into the middle of it. What I’m getting at is that at some point we are going to have to fight. When that time comes...and it will...I don’t want to be a burden. I want to at least try to hold my own. I certainly don’t want someone to get hurt trying to protect me, or because I can’t protect them. God forbid someone dies. I don’t want that on my conscience. I don’t want to be the reason one of the Abode dies.”
A tear welled in Sam’s left eye, but resisted falling. He struggled to keep it in, but failed. “I really can’t live with that.”
“He’s got a point.” Sylvia shrugged. “Can’t really argue with that.”
Tyre couldn’t figure out what was happening. He was just standing there getting a vanguard report and now...now he was being attacked by his wife and by Sam. “I can argue with that by sayin’ ‘hell, no!’ I’m not going to do it.”
“Now you are just being stubborn. You know we’re right.” Sylvia’s hands went to her hips and her big, dark eyes became scolding. Sam realized that Felix was no longer standing there. He had disappeared, stealthy as the scout he was.
“You want to teach him to fight, go ahead,” Tyre scoffed. “Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ you.”
“He would be better off with the person who taught me.” Sylvia responded. In fact, Tyre had, in essence, offered a rare compromise by suggesting that Sylvia should train Sam. It was a good and workable idea, but Sylvia understood that that wasn’t the point. Sam needed to be trained by Tyre, not by her. Besides, her husband’s stubbornness had ignited her own, and she wasn’t about to let him off easy.
Tyre shook his head with quick jerks. “Nope. I have better things to do.”
Sylvia huffed, “Like what? You don’t do anything but hang around all day getting reports from your vanguard and runners. You’re even startin’ to get flabby!” she poked her husband in the belly...it was rock solid, but that wasn’t the point.
“Oh, I’m flabby now!”
“I’m just sayin’.” Sylvia shrugged, a sinister little smirk crossed her face.
Sam couldn’t help but smile and, perhaps...entirely against his will...he may have giggled a little bit.
Before he knew it Tyre was a blur of motion, his great, brown fist appearing as if by magic just at the tip of Sam’s nose. Behind that impossibly long, thick arm his eyes burned fury.
