The Line

Copyright 2008, 2009,2010, 2011 By Madengineer3

all rights reserved

I must remember what my siblings and I, have been taught. My father stressed it and constantly pointed out that our family was never to be the aggressors in any situation. In defense we were free to engage the enemy, but only with a measured response. However, there are circumstances in which that line must be crossed! This is hard to do when people pick you out as "strange" or "different". These people see my lack of aggression as a sign of weakness as opposed to a sign of intense inner strength. Little do they know the effort that it takes to not destroy them all in one moment's rage. They know so little, and arrogantly assert that they know how life really is to be lived. They define reality in terms of their twisted little view that those who are monetarily rich, are externally pretty, or are good at sports are the only people who matter.

I am in my senior year of college. I am a mathematics major/physics minor and am a very average looking guy. I have never excelled in sports, not because I couldn't but because in the heat of competition I might let slip the fact that my reflexes and strength don't fit the normal human mold. If normal human strength and reflexes were plotted as a Gaussian curve I, and the other members of my family, would be considered to be more than six sigma (standard deviations) above the mean.

Our family name would not register with you. In terms of normal geography my family is from a region that is a few hundred miles North East of modern Greece. We are an old family that can trace its origins back more than three thousand years. Our individual life expectancies are way outside the norm for humans. I was born when my parents were already over five hundred years old. We have a family story that one of our direct ancestors was the pre-flood Methuselah himself. If that is so it is but a small part of the our story.

My problem, at the moment, is that I, like all of my direct family, have swarthy eastern Mediterranean looks with what most educated people would say was more than just a tinge of Tartar blood. I live, and go to school, in an area where "Earth First" types of ecologists, and the Aryan Supremacists are strong. Now it may seem strange that these two groups would be strong in this one area, but upon reflection it is quite reasonable. Both of these groups see the solution to their pet areas of interest in the arena of violence and treasonous action. They both consist of "true believers" as Erich Hoffer would have defined them. It seems, at first, a strange fact that the Earth First type believers would make good Aryan Supremacists; but it makes sense when you consider that the Earth First types see population as one of Earth's biggest problems. In general when you consider who the people are who are having the largest families you can see why the two groups mesh so nicely. The only way a person can fit in with these people is to be as bigoted as they are or to excel at sports or fighting. I assume that if you were rich and famous they might also like you especially if you hate minorities as much as they do. Our family is very wealthy, but we neither show it nor admit it. There are a small number of people who are kind and accepting of me and my family. They are, for the main part, conservative Jews and/or true Bible believing Christians. Even they do not know how different our family really is. Locally these good people have sort of closed ranks around me having seen the hatred of a number of our classmates and many in the local population. A group of about twenty of these "Eco-SkinHeads" have decided to take out their displeasure with me by going after my friends. They have given up on going after me since I can be very elusive, especially at night. These vile thugs seem to lose their bravery in the light of day. They prefer to pick on people in darkness where they will not be identified as easily. Their "courage" is that of the mob. They can't stand up for their beliefs using reason and discourse. They only feel sure of themselves when they are in a group of "fellow believers". They are, individually, cowards.

A few nights ago these thugs put two of my friends, Mary Wright and Jeff Smith, in the hospital. Mary was just beaten badly. Jeff suffered a severe blow to the head. He will probably live but no one is sure if his mind will survive the damage. My inner senses make me believe he will, but even I can't be sure. The message had been left that this tactic of going after my friends would not stop until they get me.

I went to the local law enforcement agencies but in "this neck of the woods" some of them are blood relatives of some of those who are trying to get me. This leads to a horrible bind. I have made official complaints to both the police and sheriff's offices so that I have fulfilled the legal steps that a good citizen must take. But I feel certain that nothing will come of those complaints.

I am afraid that I will have to do something to "get their attention". I think I know what I need to do.

* * * *

I entered the bar that is frequented by those who I am sure attacked my friends. Conversations all but totally stopped as I came in and walked over to the bar to order a drink. The bartender appeared to be neutral, he's just running a business. I ordered a "rusty nail" and sat there nursing it slowly. After about ten minutes I could both sense and mentally picture their plan. They would send over one of the good looking girls who hang out with them. I suspected that they would have her become "friendly" and then lead me outside to somewhere private where they will try to get me. I had decided to play along with their scheme, but I also strongly suspected that later on they would decide that they wouldn't like the dark as much as they do now.

My brother and sisters had agreed to help me. Counting me there were only four of us, but four of us are enough to take on a small army.

Their girl, the "Judas goat", had come over and sat down next to me. As I can best recall the conversation went something like this.

She said: "Hi there; are you new in the area? I haven't seen you in here before."

"No, I live in one of the dorms over at the college. I just thought I'd try here tonight. The bar I normally go to holds some painful memories for me, at the moment."

"Painful memories? What happened?"

"I normally hang out with some friends who used to go there. They got hurt and are in the hospital. It's still not clear if they will recover properly or not. One of them received a very bad blow to the head."

"That's too bad, I'm sorry to hear it. So, are you trying to forget your sadness tonight? If so, maybe I could help you forget it."

"That would be nice. Thank you for caring. I'm Luke, but I didn't catch your name."

"Oh, yeah, I'm Nancy."

"O.K. Nancy, would you like a drink?"

"Sure, what are you drinking?"

"It's called a rusty nail. It is a mixture of Scotch and Drambuie."

"I'd like to try one, I've never tried Scotch. Is it strong?"

"Yup! No mixers are added to it. The only mixer comes from the melting of the ice cubes."

"I'd like one."

"Bartender, would you make Nancy here a rusty nail, please?

"Sure thing, coming right up."

A minute later Nancy was sipping her rusty nail.

"So, how do you like Scotch in this form?"

"It's different, but very good tasting. Does it hit you like a ton of bricks?"

"Well, that depends upon a lot of variables. For example what you last ate, when you ate it, if you have a cold, if you are tired, if you are taking any medicines, and the mood you are in all have some impact."

"Wow, are you a doctor or something?"

"No, just a student who likes the sciences."

A few minutes of small talk allowed Nancy time to finish her drink.

"Luke, this stuff sneaks up on you. It is feeling awfully warm in here. How about we go outside and get some fresh air? It would also let me get to know you better, if you know what I mean."

"Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

"Yeah, let's go."

I paid the bartender using my credit card.

"She led me outside. She gently guided me in the direction of the park in the center of town. It has some sections that are very private. It was in this park that the "Thugs" beat my friends. My family was following in the shadows but they wouldn't loose me. We see very well in the dark. The rods and cones in our eyes are sensitive to infra-red down to abut one micron. Most humans eyesight ceases at about 700 nanometers (That is 0.7 microns.) After we were a hundred feet or so into the park I could hear the clumsy movement in the bushes a bit behind us. I lead the girl to the left where it was darker. Darker is not good for my enemy, they can't see well enough to fight effectively.

I heard them coming after me. They showed no woodland skills at all. I would have to be deaf to not hear them. I approached my chosen battlefield, my "fatal terrain" as Lao Tsu would have called it.

I stopped and proceeded to start kissing the girl who they used to "lure" me here. She was mechanically responsive but obviously on edge. I could sense her heartbeat and smell the increasing adrenaline levels in her body. The thugs had arrived, but hadn't seen us yet. I spoke to the girl:

"I think there could be trouble, try to run away over that way and I'll try to stall them."

She looked startled, paused for a fraction of a second and then stumbled away from me. In the meantime I had kicked off my shoes.

"So, you little misfit, you fell for it. You think you are so smart, and now you are all alone with no friends to help you. After what we did to your friends, what do you think we're going to do to you? I think you better say goodbye because you ain't going to walk away from this. You got any last words?"

"Yes, you know you can stop now and walk away from this! If you continue to try what you have in mind you will discover you have made a bad mistake. By the way, what makes you think I'm alone?"

"Dream on, you're alone. We don't see or hear anyone else. You're just trying to stall things. Mike! - Jim!; Get him!!"

Under the lighting conditions all they could see of me was a dark indistinct moving shape. My family, and I could see them quite clearly.

The largest two thugs in the group moved toward me carrying baseball bats. I stood my ground and watched. For a minute it almost looked like they weren't sure about what they were doing. After all, I was just standing there with no indication that I was going to run. The lead thug moved his bat back to take a full swing. As his bat moved forward I sprang in a high arc over his head coming down behind him and took a swipe at the back of his legs with my hand. I had already willed my change. Two inch claws had already replaced the last joints of my fingers and toes. My sleek brown and black fur made me almost invisible. In one sweep I had cut the Achilles' tendons of the first thug. I cut him carefully to avoid the major arteries and veins. As he screamed and dropped I kicked the other thug in the side of his knee tearing away all the ligaments so that the knee bent sideways. Then I stood still and spoke again.

"Are you sure you want to continue this? Most of you can still walk away. Your friends, here, need medical attention, they seem to have hurt themselves."

All that could be heard was a snarl from the leader, "Get him!!" At this the other eight thugs started to move in. As they moved; my family, who had also willed the change, silently started to come out of the bushes. I'm sure to a normal human they would look like a cross between gorillas and large cats. Their fangs were bigger than those of any dog, as were the claws on their hands an feet. They were covered, like me, in their brown and black fur, which made them very hard to see. The thugs didn't see them since they were so focused on me. The fight quickly turned out to be something that the thugs hadn't expected.

One of my sisters took the "leader" who had been giving the orders. He was only cut four places and kicked in one. He lost both Achilles tendons, and the bicep muscles in the arms. Oh, yeah, he will need a large ice pack to soothe his badly damaged balls.

My other sister was at work on the rear two, of the eight, guys who were trying to take me out. She made a lateral pass behind the stragglers and cut, or severely damaged, the Achilles tendons on at least one leg of each of them. (It is truly amazing how quickly a person collapses when they loose the use of their main lower leg muscle.) After dropping them she carefully damaged the hand of any arm still holding a weapon. She disabled their thumbs by twisting them until they were severely strained. (It is hard to hold a hand weapon if your thumbs aren't operating well. It is almost as hard to effectively use a hand weapon in the less favored hand unless you have practiced to control it that way.)

I was faced with the six guys in front. To my left, my brother had moved out of the bushes and silently started to move in toward the left end of the line of six. I waited until they were about six feet from me. I made it look like I was going to run, which is what they expected me to do. A fraction of a second later I sprang to the right placing myself on the flank of their line in a position opposite that of my brother, effectively forming a pincer movement. In that way we each faced only one club wielding attacker each. As the man facing each of us started to turn ninety degrees, to face our attack from the new direction we attacked their knees. The snapping of the ligaments could actually be heard. Since they had been turning they sort of corkscrewed down to the ground. On the way they each suffered compound fractures of the collarbones corresponding to the arm that held their respective weapons.

We both pulled back and I spoke again "Four of you are still standing, do you want to quit while you are ahead?"

At this point three of the four dropped their baseball bats and ran away as fast as they could move. The fourth man reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. The gun hadn't completely cleared his jacket before his hand was crushed between my brother's teeth. As my brother was doing this my sister was busy slashing his Achilles' tendons. Oh, yeah, he also received a viscous kick to the balls. I truly hope that a good orthopedic surgeon can fix that wrist, but I'm not sure it is fixable. I'm afraid that my brother lost a bit of control and, as I found out later, several of the thug's carpal and metacarpal bones as well as the ends of the ulna and radius were broken into multiple pieces. Even if it can be fixed his wrist will probably ache for the rest of his life.

It was probably less than fifty seconds before they were either running away or on the ground with assorted serious, but non-lethal wounds. Between the six of them, counting the leader, there had to be no fewer than a dozen broken bones, fifteen destroyed joints and every one of them had a set of claw marks that would remain with them the rest of their lives.

My family quickly, and silently, faded into the trees and undergrowth. I had left my car on a seldom used side street that faced the park. We all willed the change and then got into the clothes that we had hidden in the bushes at the edge of the park. After putting on our clothes we put on full motorcycle rain suits, including gloves and slip on boots to prevent blood transfer to the car. The suits and boots were all new and had been purchased by my youngest sister in a city about two hours away from here. She paid cash so there was no record of the sale, except for the clerk's memory. She had also purchased the suits at four different stores so it was unlikely that anyone would take note of one person buying four different rain suits. When we were dressed we all piled into my car and headed out to my brother's home. It took us fifteen minutes to get to his house. (My brother's house has two full bathrooms, which was very handy at this time.) When we arrived at his house, the two girls showered first so that their hair would be dry by the time the police arrived. After they had gotten out we boys showered. My fresh clothes were identical to the ones that I had been wearing at the bar. The rain suits, clothes, and shoes, that we had been wearing were put into my brother's, dual fuel, furnace. In a short time they were reduced to ash.

Half a pizza was taken from the oven and we sat down at the dining room table to "continue" a game of Risk. It was set up so that it indicated that the game had been progressing for quite a while. I picked up my brothers' phone and made a call to 911.

"Emergency services, Please state your emergency."

"I want to report an attempted mugging."

"Are you in a place of safety so that you can speak without being hurt?"

"Yes, I am."

"O.K. then. Who am I speaking with?"

"My name is Luke Slovenski"

"O.K., Mr. Slovenski, tell me what happened."

"I had gone for a walk in the park with a girl I had just met. Suddenly a group of thugs tried to jump me. I tried to talk my way out of it, but it turned ugly. I ran away, but as I ran it sounded like some form of wild animal attacked at least one of them. I was panic stricken and drove out to my brother's place in case more thugs or animals were around."

"Where did this take place?"

"In the city park."

"When did this happen?"

"About fifty minutes ago."

"Why did you wait so long to call?"

"I was too upset and frightened to call. I needed to get to a place of safety and I needed to stop shaking and get my head together. I'm still very shaken."

"Where are you right now?"

"I'm at my brother's house. It was the only place I could go that I knew I'd be safe."

"What is the address, we need to have an officer talk to you."

"I'm at 2718 East road in Tremansburg."

"An officer will be out to speak to you shortly, please stay where you are until he gets there."

"O.K. I'll do that, and thank you for being there. I'm still shaking."

Upon hanging up I sat down at the table to watch my siblings play Risk. I had a large glass of brandy in front of me. It was about twenty minutes later that a Sheriff's deputy, Jack Frazier, accompanied by a city police detective Mark Fabrizzio, were knocking on the front door. My brother went to answer the door. Moments later he brought the officers into the dining room.

The officers identified themselves.

Detective Mark Fabrizzio spoke, "Are you Luke?"

"Yes I am."

Turning to my brother, Mark asked if they could sit down at the table with us. When they were seated detective Fabrizzio turned to my brother and sisters."

"Oh, Risk, I haven't played that game in years."

One of my sisters, Irene, responded, "About once a month we get together and try to play a full game if Risk, Monopoly, or Canasta. We've been doing this since we were teenagers."

My other sister, Agatha, chimed in, "yeah but it wasn't quite the same without Luke here as a player".

"From the looks of it this game has been in progress a while. How long did it take to get to this point?"

My brother responded, "I think we started about five thirty. That's when we had the pizzas delivered. We're about half way through the second one at this point."

"Luke, can you tell me what happened? I need to record this to make sure that I don't miss anything for my report."

"No problem detective. I think recording this would be of value for all of us so that we will be able to remember all the questions that were asked. Pete, do you still have that recorder?"

"No Luke, it broke but I have the next best thing I have my camcorder and can put it on the side board so that it can record the conversation."

"Good, please do; oh, you don't mind do you detective?".