Read Online This Shattered Land - 02 by James Cook - Free Book Online Page A

on the living room carpet as a
little boy. I had to swallow a few times against the lump in my throat when I
turned away. Brian emerged from the bunker and brought over the two red plastic
knives, extending one to me hilt first.
    “Okay,
let’s go over some basic blocks and strip tactics.” I said, falling into a
fighting stance. Brian followed suit as we circled one another.
    “Remember,”
I said, “don’t use the same tactics against the living and the dead. The dead
don’t feel pain.”
    Brian
nodded and shifted his stance a bit, putting more weight on his left side. The
momentary distraction let me lunge in with a strike at his mid-section. Brian
saw it coming and managed to swing a forearm around to deflect the attack,
nearly knocking me off balance. Before I had a chance to recover, he executed a
deft little spin move and dropped his weight while aiming a reverse slash at my
knee. I hopped out of the way, but only barely. A grin spread across my face.
The kid was fast and devious, a natural fighter.
    “Nice
block. Blocks are great, but they are not fight-stoppers. This time, try to
strip the knife out of my hand.” I said. Brian nodded.
    I
lowered my center into a crouching stance and scuttled forward. Brian gave
ground and circled.  A quick fake to the right, then a drop step to the left
drew his attention. My training knife flew out toward the fingers of his knife
hand, then abruptly switched direction to hurtle toward a point just above his
hip. He sidestepped the stab by a fraction of a second and brought his free
hand underneath mine in the same motion. Gripping my wrist, he brought his
knife hand down with a hammer fist strike at my blade just above the thumb. The
thumb is the weak point of your grip, and if you put leverage against it in the
right direction, you can easily strip a knife or a gun out of someone’s hand.
Brian’s strike demonstrated that principle by smashing my knife to the ground.
A fraction of a second and a quick snapping motion later, the tip of his weapon
stopped just short of my throat. I nodded my approval.
    “That
was a kill. Nice work.” I said. Brian beamed back at me.
    I
heard clapping off to my right, and turned to see Gabriel leaning against the
shed with a half-smile on his tattered face.
    “Not
bad, kid. You’re pretty good with a blade.” He said as pushed of the wall and
walked over to stop in front of Brian, kneeling down eye-to-eye with the boy.
    “Your
mother told me that today is your birthday.”
    Brian
shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. That stuff doesn’t really matter anymore.”
    Gabriel
frowned at him, and placed one hand on his shoulder. Brian’s arm looked
painfully thin and frail under Gabe’s scarred hand.
    “Your
birthday is still important, son. Here, I got something for you.”
    He
reached into his coat and pulled out a knife in a nylon sheath. It was a
venerable Buck Nighthawk. Brian’s face lit up in a smile as Gabe handed it to
him. All of his premature seriousness and maturity melted away, and for a moment,
he was just a happy kid again. My heart warmed to see it. I could almost
imagine him before the Outbreak, playing baseball in the park, or eating a hot
dog at a back yard bar-b-que. A boy his age should have been running around
playing with his friends and making mischief like kids are supposed to, not
learning how to kill a man with a dagger.
    “I
can have it?” Brian asked.
    “Of
course.” Gabe said, smiling. “Every fighting man needs a good knife.”
    Brian
looped the knife onto his belt, and practiced drawing it a few times. The black
blade looked eerily natural in his hands. He turned and scampered back to the
cabin to show his birthday present to his parents.
    “Dad,
look what Gabriel gave me.” He said, turning to the side so that his father
could see the knife in its sheath.
    “That’s
nice, son.” Tom said, looking up from a map. “Did you say thank you?”
    Brian
stopped and flushed, realizing that he