Strike by Jim Heskett

Author:Jim Heskett [Heskett, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Royal Arch Books
Published: 2019-01-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

In the morning, Yorick waited for Rosia at the front of the dorms while others streamed out of the building. Blues and Reds, some dressed in battle suits, some in regular clothes, holding their suits like pet animals as they shuffled along.

Something in the world didn’t feel right. Levels of conversations were low. Worried looks crowded faces. Often, before battle, you’d hear boasts about future victories or playful taunts from each team. This morning, there was none of that.

Everyone seemed to smell the impending doom in the air.

Or maybe that was how Yorick saw the world. Two days until the farm serfs would revolt, to take on Wybert’s contingent of guards. Utter lunacy. Wybert would stand them all up against the wall. Or, at least, the ones who survived the initial assault would end up against the wall.

And even if Yorick and the Blues did not join in, their lives would probably be forfeit, as well. With no field workers left to tend to the harvest, what would become of the rest of them? Would Wybert still have time to make silly war games when his livelihood was in jeopardy? No. The lord would lock them inside the plantación and burn it all to the ground.

A finger tapped him on the shoulder and Yorick whirled, fists raised. He found Paulo a meter away, flinching back from Yorick’s reaction.

“Easy, amigo,” Paulo said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“I get it. Everyone is a little edgy right now.”

Yorick nodded. “Thank you for your help yesterday.”

“We did what we could, but it was a lucky break that the guards were all drinking themselves into stupidity inside the gym for most of the evening. I know we didn’t get a chance to talk about it yet. Did you learn anything? Make any progress?”

“Not really,” Yorick said, lifting his palms upward. “We thought we could sneak around under the mansion and… and I’m not sure what we thought would happen. Maybe that we would find Hamon.”

“Hamon is gone,” Paulo said, his expression weary.

“I know. I know he is.”

“We all miss him too. But we have to accept he’s not coming back.” Paulo clapped him on the shoulder. “This is not a good time to be thinking about the ones we left behind.”

“You’re right,” Yorick said. “Got to put my guerrero face on.”

Paulo spread a flat smile and gave Yorick a wink as he strutted off toward the battlefield, hoisting his arms above his head to stretch as he went. With all the other guerreros out of the dorms, Yorick enjoyed a moment of silence. The gentle cawing of birds off in the distance, the light whoosh of a breeze cascading down the plantación walls.

Rosia came out of the building a moment later, her black battle suit clinging to her. Hair tied up in a bun at the back of her head. She narrowed her eyes as she approached him.

“What’s wrong?”

Yorick shrugged. “A lot of things are wrong. I don’t have enough fingers to list them all.

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