Date: Tue, 13 Feb 1996 20:17:33 -0500 Reply-To: NSumsion@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: "Nathan R. Sumsion" Subject: The Value of Friends (7/10) This story contains some violence and mild profanity. The Value of Friends. Part seven of ten. by Nathan R. Sumsion SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA. 1996 Jacob sat on a bench, not far from Gerald's. He hadn't wanted to go home after being released from the police station, so he had travelled here. Gerald lived in a dump. There wasn't any nicer way to put it. He lived in a run-down townhouse, part of a run-down string of structures on a run-down street. Jacob was seated on a bus bench across the street from Gerald's home. Gerald was not there. Which was odd. Generally Gerald didn't do much of anything during the day. Jacob was beginning to get worried. He didn't want to start jumping at shadows, but he was seeing everything as being orchestrated by this person August. His best friend of fifty years, Lamont, was dead. His most intimate associate, Jessica, was preparing to return home to Chicago, due to threats her husband had been receiving. She knew, as did Jacob, that August was San Jose, not in Chicago. Still, it would be pure idiocy to ignore the threats as meaningless. August obviously wanted Jessica out of the way, and neither she nor Jacob were prepared to risk her husband's life on a gamble. His only other Immortal friend in the Bay Area, Gerald, was being harried by another of their kind. That may or may not be related to Jacob's current troubles. Then there were the loss of many of his financial assets, the damage to his character, and the preposterous charges of child abuse, which would take a long time to clear up. Jacob wasn't normally prone to brooding, so he came to talk to Gerald. Finally, he felt the presence of an Immortal coming near at the same time he heard the sound of a car approaching. Actually, it was more than one. Gerald's rusting blue Peugeot came screeching around the corner, losing its last hubcap in the turn. And right behind it was a white Saab. Gerald came flying up into his driveway and threw open his door and ran into his house. The Saab made a hasty stop, blocking off the end of the driveway, and a man that Jacob did not know hopped out and ran into the house after Gerald. Jacob might not know who the second man was, but he did recognize that he had a sword under his trenchcoat. Jacob hurried and opened his car door, grabbed his Rapier, and ran into his friend's house. He found the two Immortals squaring up against each other, with Gerald's thrift-store couch between them. Gerald was unarmed. They both looked at him as he entered. "Back off," the Immortal exclaimed, "he's mine." "Go away, Jacob," Gerald agreed. Jacob could recognize in Gerald's voice that he had no intention of fighting the man. He was giving up. "I'm not leaving," Jacob stated seriously. He looked right at the stranger's eyes. "I will not stand by and watch you kill my friend." The stranger scowled fiercely in anger and tried to maneuver closer to Gerald, hurling a small footstool away from him. Jacob moved between them as the stool crashed through one of the room's windows. Gerald's neighbors began pounding on the walls. The stranger hesitated, then began backing out of the room. "Another time, then," he said to Gerald. "When your friend is not around." He turned and ran out the door. The sound of the man's car starting and tearing away from the curb was heard over the neighbors' complaints. Jacob turned towards Gerald, only to have his friend shove him roughly into the couch. "Why did you do that?" Gerald asked, his voice anguished. "You had no right to do that!" And at this point, all of Jacob's frustration, all of his grief and loss despair from the events of recent weeks suddenly hit him all at once. He dropped his sword to the ground, stood up and marched Gerald back into the wall. Jacob was nose to nose with his friend and Gerald had no retreat. "Dammit, Gerald! No more! You've lost family and friends. Deal with it. Life isn't turning out rosy for you? Tough. I'm done making excuses for you, I'm done trying to make you're life better! I've lost two close friends this week. I've got enormous problems of my own. You're the only friend I have left here in town and I don't want to lose you too. But if you're so much of a cold-blooded bastard to not care then you just go ahead and hand your head over to this guy." It wasn't what he wanted to say. Jacob rarely let his emotions overcome his reason, because he hated trying to clear up any pain caused by a few seconds of letting go of self-control. But he'd had it. Gerald didn't say anything. His face voiced myriad different emotions vying for control. But his eyes seemed to reflect something... something new. Jacob picked up his sword and walked to the door. He paused before leaving. "My friends are the most important thing in my life, Gerald. I've lost too many good friends. I don't want to lose any more." ******************** Jessica was getting frustrated. The cab had been a few minutes late in picking her up, and she desperately needed to catch her plane home. The traffic lights seemed to be conspiring against them. She couldn't remember one they had caught green. It had begun to rain, instantly, no warning. One minute it was overcast, the next sheets of rain were pouring down. And now she thought the cab driver was lost. "No! You moron, I need to go to the airport! Where are you going?" The cabbie, eyes looking nervously at her in the rearview mirror, seemed unusually anxious. Something was wrong. As soon as she realized it, the cabbie had opened his door and fled out into the rain, abandoning the cab at the traffic signal. Jessica hurriedly got out of the car and looked around her. She was in a district of small business high-tech factories. There were lights on in all the buildings, but no one was out on the street. It was difficult to see very far, for now the rain was, if anything, intensifying. She felt the presence of another Immortal. Cursing, she pulled her sabre out of one of bags. Looking around, she finally spotted the figure standing in the alleyway between two buildings. He beckoned her with his sword, and backed away into the alley's depths. "Let's get this over with," she growled to herself. She walked across the street, leaving her other bags and coat discarded near the cab. She kicked off her heels as she crossed the street. She was drenched, every portion of clothing glued onto her with the torrent of water. She stepped into the alley. It was clean, with only a few dumpsters between her and its end a block away. The alleyway ended at the back of a third building. There was no way out. Her opponent waited for her at the alley's end. She approached him cautiously, unafraid but unhurried. "August Wilmont," the red-haired man introduced with a flourish of his sword. Jessica smiled. "Then this will indeed be a pleasure." She leapt to attack him. He easily blocked the swing, but wasn't prepared for the follow-up, and cursed as the tip of her blade sliced across his chest. The wound would sting but wouldn't be serious. They circled each other, splashing in the large puddles, cautiously wiping the streams of water from their eyes. Wilmont looked as if he was reconsidering the wisdom of this course of action. He was obviously outmatched. Jessica was grinning fiercely, enjoying every moment of the combat. He darted in, performing a difficult combination of an upper slash and quick thrust to her midsection. Jessica blocked and stepped out of the way, giving him a gash across his cheek for his troubles. He hacked savagely at her, hoping to overpower her. She turned everything aside and kicked him soundly in the stomach, staggering him back. August was bleeding from about a dozen shallow wounds and he had yet to touch her. This was definitely not going as planned. His arms were tiring and she looked as if she were gaining her second wind. Before he could devise a new stratagem, she was on him. He furiously attempted to block her attacks, but was not always successful. She hit him hard on his left shoulder, crippling that arm, and seconds later, his sword dropped to his feet. August curled up on the ground as Jessica brought her sword up, a wild look of triumph in her eyes. "Now, Conrad! Now! Now!" August screamed. Jessica glanced to her side briefly and then back. She prepared to bring her sword down when her chest erupted. The shots were silenced, but twin rose blossoms of blood bloomed from her chest. She staggered backward, eyes widened in surprise. She struggled to remain on her feet, but the world was tilting crazily. August ripped her sword from her grasp and shoved her to the ground. His eyes were mocking. He brought her sword up. "Oh, Chris," she mumbled around the blood in her mouth. "I'm so sor..." Her world went black. ******************** Jacob's phone rang. He had been sitting in a rocking chair, staring out the picture window into his back yard for... three hours now. Trying to sort things out. "Hello," he answered, not really caring who it was. "It's Gerald. Um... you know what you said earlier?" Jacob paused, coming out of his reverie. "Yes?" There was silence on the other end for a moment, then, "I need your help." ******************** The Immortal showed up at the designated rendezvous and felt the presence of his opponent. "So," the man sneered. "You decided to stand your ground after all." Jacob emerged from out of the shadows. They were in a warehouse full of paper, and it was deserted at this time of night. "Gerald did decide to stand his ground. He asked a friend for help." The man hesitated. He had never heard anything of whether this Hamilton was any good with a sword or not. Rumor was he hadn't had a fight in over a year. "My quarrel isn't with you." "Your quarrel is with me," Jacob corrected. "If you're after Gerald, you have to go through me." They squared off, Jacob holding his sword low, the other man to the side. Jacob was patient. He knew how to bide his time. He waited for the attack to come. Jacob was good with the sword, he just didn't care to kill people to prove it. But he wouldn't hesitate now. Jacob smiled as his opponent finally ran out of patience and attacked. The man was decent, but he wasn't a master. Unfortunately, Jacob was. On the third time they crossed blades, Jacob slipped his sword up the length of his opponent's blade, severing the man's thumb. The man howled in pain, but to his credit he quickly transferred his sword to his other hand before he could drop it. He managed to block Jacob's next two strikes. But not the third. Jacob ducked under the man's swing and ran the length of his blade through his opponent's chest. The man toppled backwards, hitting the ground roughly but still keeping himself seated by leaning on his good hand. He was fighting unconsciousness with everything he had. Jacob rested the edge of his sword against the man's neck, but it was unnoticed. Jacob looked down at the man. With one quick motion, about one second's worth of effort, he could end a life that had spanned several decades. Had all the man's decisions brought him here, to this warehouse, to this end? Was it the same for all of them? Could his life boil down to one ill-made decision? Jacob regretted being the cause for the end of all that this man was. Because he wasn't able to control circumstance the way he would wish, he would have to carry around the burden, and the guilt, of another man's murder. Another murder on top of too many others. But that was the game. He was bound by its rules, no matter how much he despised them. He had grown used to the Quickening he would receive, but he had yet to come to like it. "There can be only one," he whispered to himself as he brought his Rapier back for the final stroke. "But I hope to God it's not me." ******************************* End part seven. Please send any comments to me at NSumsion@aol.com =========================================================================