Date:         Sat, 11 Jun 1994 02:34:02 EDT
Reply-To:     Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.BITNET>
Sender:       Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.BITNET>
From:         Hobert@AOL.COM
Subject:      CANGES,  Part 5 of 5  (First Third)

Changes
by Kevin Robnett


Part 5

          The lone man slept in a small cave by the water's edge.
All night, all day.  At dusk, he was roused by a voice in his
head, prodding him to wake.  Slowly he stretched, then ran
his hands over his now unmarred skin.  He bent to pick up
his clothes.

          <Where do I go, now, guys?  Mexico?>

                    [Why?]

          <Because I'm wanted for murder.>

                                        /I wager they have closed that case./

                    [Did they know who you were, or just a description?]

          <A description.  Unless they found fingerprints.>

                    [There are many red-headed teenagers around...]

          <So you think it's safe to stay in the States?>

                    [Yes.]
                                        /Definitely./

          <Mako?>

                                                  <Stay.>

          <And go where?>

                              *Dallas, honey!*

          <Hello?> [Who is...?] /Another one?/

                              *My name is Mary May Jones, but you can
                                call me Mamie.*

          <Why Dallas?>

                              *Nearest airport that services Albuquerque
                                besides El Paso.*

                    [Why an airport?]

                                                  <His sword!>

                              *You got it, sweet thing.*

                                                 < ! >

          <So what now?>

                              *I-10 is, mmm, northeast of here - Can't
                                guess how far, but it's your best bet.*

          <And once I get there?>

                                        *Hitchhike!*

                              /Excellent idea./

          <Well, let's get started.>

                    [Leave the shirt and shoes.  Tear the legs off the
jeans.]

          <Huh?>

                    [You will be running a long time.  These things
                    will only slow you down.  Now, do not argue.
                    We will begin by doing a few stretching exercises.
                    Follow my example...]

                              *You don't have anything to be ashamed about.
                                You're quite a looker, child.*

          <I'm hungry.>

                                        <Tough, boy.  If you really want to
catch
                                        a rabbit, and eat it raw, feel free.>

          <No thanks, Mako, I...>

                    [You are not concentrating!  Now...]

          <Take the body.  You don't need me for this.>

                    [Sacre bleu!]

          It was well after dark before he began jogging to the
northeast, looking for any signs of life.  The conversations
continued in his head, Richie mostly listening.  The hours
quickly passed until Phillipe decided to stop well before
the sun came up.  The time was used for rudimentary
lessons in movement and forms, Phillipe impressed with
the smattering Duncan and Charlie had shown him, but not
entirely satisfied.  He added several new forms, and
rearranged many more.  Once satisfied, he left the young
man to practice the kata in peace.  The sun rose on the
redhead, virtually naked on the arid landscape, the
blossoming colors unnoticed as he concentrated.

                    [Very good.  There is much room for improvement,
but you have potential.  Sleep now.  We run again at dusk.
There is so much to learn, and understand.  You suffer from
being born as the Gathering is upon us.  You will not have
the skills that centuries can provide.]

          Two days passed as the Immortal ran and trained,
his teachers perfectionists and tyrants.  By now, the drudgery
of running seemed normal and the blandness of the kata a
calming force.  The third dawn brought his first basic
lesson in yoga, in front of a fire he had finally started
with two sticks.  He gazed into the flames...

< < < < <

          ...as Duncan passed on the far side, moving to the
cliff edge overlooking the lake and valley.  In the distance
somewhere was the cabin he had built himself.  At this
point each night, he usually suggested sleep, but tonight,
something kept him awake and restless.  Richie didn't know
how to ask, so the youngster sat quietly, waiting for Duncan
to do something.  This camping and hiking had been Tessa's
suggestion, a way for the two to 'get to know each other
better.'  So far, the only thing Richie had learned  was he
snored.  Loudly, according to Duncan.

         "Why do you like it here?"  Richie finally asked, when
Duncan hadn't moved from the edge.  Time passed, and Richie
was afraid Duncan was ignoring him again.  From the dark
shape, a soft, ghostly voice emerged, thickly filled with a
Scottish brogue, sounding far away and ages past.

                  "It reminds me o' home.  The Highlands.  My family.
My lass..."  Once again silence took over.

         "Have you ever gone back?"  Waiting for Duncan's reply,
he stood, brushing the dirt from his pants.  Moving around
the fire, he stood behind the mysterious man, looking at
the view over Duncan's left shoulder.

                  "No' in three hundred years.  The last time was...
                    too painful."

         "Do you miss it?"

                  "Aye."  The longing and wistfulness could barely
fit in the word.  Another silence filled the air, this time
broken by the Immortal.  "You do no' like it here."

         "It's a nice place to visit, but... it's not for me.  I'm
too much a cement and neon kinda guy."  Richie smiled,
but the other didn't seem to catch the humor.  "What was
it like, growing up there?"

                  "Ahh.  There were feasts, an' battles, an' little
bairns all over the place.  I could beat my kinsmen at all
the fightin' games.  They said I was a born warrior.
My father was so proud..."

         "What happened?"

                  "I died in battle, as all good warriors do.
Only I lived.  They called me a demon.  Stoned by my bloody
kinsmen an' chased into the woods.  Connor found me, and
trained me....  I let him down.  I wanted to make it right,
but I dinna' know how.  I bloody don't know how.  Each time
I see him, I think this could be the last time, tell him.
But I can't.  How do you say you're sorry four hundred years
too late?"

         "I couldn't imagine."

                  Slowly Duncan shook his head, as if waking from
a dream.  The accent had almost faded.  "Enough.  It's my turn
now.  I see the way you look at me.  You think I'm a crazy
bastard.  Don't you?"

         "Hey, man.  I never said anything like that."

                  "You didn't have to."  Duncan pivoted to look at
Richie beside him.  "Even after everything you've seen, you
don't believe me."

         "Believing you was never part of the deal.  So I saw a
few bizarre things.  Sword fights.  Lots of sparks.  People
jumping off of bridges."  Richie took a measured step back
toward the fire.  "A psychiatrist would..."

                  "You don't even believe I'm Immortal."  He moved
closer the Richie, watching the redhead start to panic.
Richie stuttered excuses as Duncan pulled a hunting knife
from his belt.  He grabbed Richie by the wrist, dragging
him toward the light of the fire.

         "Mac...God, Mac, you're hurting me....  Stop this...
I don't need..."  All Richie saw was madness in the
Highlander's eyes.  He tried to stop Duncan from placing
the knife in his hands, and closing them around the hilt.
Duncan was just too strong.  Time stopped as Richie
looked at the knife, gleaming blade pointed straight at
Duncan's heart.  He slowly looked into the madman's eyes,
and saw the need for acceptance.  Duncan smiled and
forced Richie to plunge the knife into the waiting chest.
He screamed into the night as blood spurted everywhere,
soaking his hands and clothes.

                  "You need to understand, Rich..." were Duncan's
last words as he collapsed on the ground, driving the knife
deeper...

> > > > >


         ...into the sand.  Soon, a small amount of water formed
in the depression, enough to slack the dry throat of the redhead.
He used the last to wipe the sweat and grime from his hands
and face.  Below, the cement thread of the Interstate crossed
the land, his ticket to civilization.

                  *Now just go on down, honeychild, and stand there and
                    look invitin'.*

         <Why can't I just pay someone to give me a lift?  I still have
          Greg's money.>

                  *The first thing they'll do is skin you alive, and leave
                    your bleedin' corpse on the side of the highway.  No,
                    child, you gotta give them somethin' anybody can use.*

         <Now, Mamie...>

                  *Hush up.  I gotta concentrate.  Hike up them shorts.*

         <So I'm offering sex for a lift with five thousand dollars in
          my pockets?>

                  *I ain't crossed this great land twice on my own two
                    feet without learnin' a little somethin'.*

         <Mako.  Phillipe.  Help me.>

                           [She's right.  No one would believe anyone
                            with money would be stranded a la natural
                            on the side of the road.  But a lone man
                            could go far on his looks.]

         <So you agree with her, Phillipe?>

                           [Oui.  Frankly speaking, we both have a lot
                           to offer the female species.  I have the
                           experience, and you have...  well, your body is
                           not quite par with what I had, but with a little
                           work and practice...]

         <So what if a guy stops?>

                           [Grit your teeth and...]

                                    /I thought today's youth were open to
                                    that sort of thing.../

                  *Quiet, Esmerelda.  Here comes a tootin' little
                  sports car.  Is twin blonds more your taste, my
                  captain?*

                                    <Oh God, Es.  We're trapped with a group
                                    of over-stimulated sex maniacs!>

                           /Now, Mako.  I'm sure you were young once, too.
                           They just have fancier toys./

                                    <Somebody wake me up when we get there!>

                  *Smile, sugar.  You gotta make an impression.*

                           [Flexing always helped me...]

                                    /I've always found a little tongue
action.../

                                                 <Esmerelda!>

         <Guys!> "Well, hello there.  Can you ladies give a lonely guy a
lift?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

         Later, the sports car pulled off the side road and cruised
east along the highway.  Richie lay spent in the back seat
watching the blond hair of the twins billow in the wind
from the open window.

         <Well?>

                  *Oh, 10!*
                           [Definitely a 9.9]
                                    /Two thumbs up!/
                                             <A stunning achievement! >
          <Thanks, guys.>
                                             <NOT!>
         <Mako!>

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