His back was slammed into the cold brick wall of the
7-Eleven, its rough exterior cutting into his flesh.
His heart beat fast, one two, one two, like pistons pumping.
Another hit and he felt a bone break somewhere in his arm.
His body slumped to the ground, his back to the wall, as he
heard the sound of running feet on the pavement. His heart
beat, one two, one two three, one, one two, one, one --
trailing off into the dark city streets.
"Like this, Daddy?", he said as he twisted his little
fingers together, attempting to mimic his father's
movements. His father smiled slightly, small wrinkles
appearing around his eyes.
"No, no, little one. Like this." His father took a
hold of his hands and moved them around, forming with
them the gestures that he himself had learned so long ago.
A dull blue glow formed around the child's hands. His eyes
danced as he watched the light growing slowly on his
fingertips and felt the tingling at the base of his skull.
"There, my son. You have learned your first lesson.
Practice hard and you will make your father proud."
He hardly heard what his father had said. He was
concentrating on the flickering light. Concentrating on the
warm sensation flowing through his body. A sort of tug at
his brain. His small lips formed into a smile as he stared
at his first successful channeling of the Ta Kar.
One, one, one two, one two, one two. His heart beat
slowly at first, struggling to push itself to work again.
Two beats, eight beats, and blood flowed again smoothly and
regularly. His breathing was shallow and irregular as his
eyes opened. He pulled himself to his feet, slowly, as he
felt the bones creaking inside of his body. Three were
broken. Two ribs and one of the bones in his arm. His legs
were wobbly as he stood and rested himself against the old
brick wall. Blood trickled from a wound in his cheek.
He slipped into the torn leather front seat of his cab
and checked the cash box. Empty. They'd taken everything.
The trail they'd left was still hot, burning red on the
street. He twisted the key and the car lurched forward,
following the trail the thieves had left behind them.
"Mommy, mommy! Look what I can do!" His little
fingers weaved in and out of each other, almost impossibly,
until his hands glowed a fiery blue. A dazzling butterfly,
his latest achievement, leapt from his hands.
His mother smiled at him, giggling as the butterfly's
wings tickled her cheek. She tried to catch it, but it was
gone.
"That's wonderful, Kim. You're learning your father's
lessons well. Remember everything he says. Everything."
She stared intently into his eyes, seeing the life and
playfulness there. She relaxed her expression.
"Now... go wash up. Dinner will be ready soon."
"Yes, mama."
He peered through the windshield, his eyes gleaming in
the moonlight. He could still see the trail. It had faded,
but only slightly. A tingling began in the base of his
skull. He reached out through his fingertips, out towards
the trail. In moments, he felt the thieves. They weren't
as far away as he'd expected them to be. He'd be able to
see them soon. Kim felt the eyes of his ancestors upon him.
He felt their scorn for him. For his departure and for his
actions. He ignored them.
Kim knelt beside his father's deathbed. He'd been
stricken by a sort of disease of the heart. No one was
exactly sure what it was. Or at least no one was giving any
answers. Kim's tears fell on the wrinkled sheets.
"My son. Do not weep for your father. I go someplace
else, and I will be happy." He paused to take his son's
fingers in his own hands.
"You have learned much of what I have taught. Remember
everything. Remember how to use the power you have been
given. Most of all, remember when to use it. Be wise, my
son. And you will make your father proud."
Kim nodded silently, tears still streaming from his
glistening eyes. Still holding his father's hands, he
watched him slowly die. First his eyes closed, then his
breathing became more shallow and stopped, and at last his
heart faded away. Kim stayed there for a while, staring
into his father's dead face. Then he stood, turned, and
walked away, leaving the body of his mentor behind.
It was twelve years after his father died when Kim saw
the van that the thieves were driving along the trail. He'd
left Hong Kong behind ten years ago to come to America. His
fingertips were already glowing hot and red, the base of his
skull was tingling wildly, almost as if he was going to
shake apart. He ignored the sensations, no matter how
strange they felt to him. He'd had enough of this
treatment. Of being robbed and beaten, left for dead. Of
living in this country not his own. With a flip of his
fingers, an arc of energy danced across the air, slipped
into the van's gas tank, and it was gone. The explosion
could be seen for miles.
Kim turned around and drove away from the wreckage.
Blood seeped from his wounds, life from his fingertips. The
tingling at the base of his skull faded and disappeared. He
could feel the eyes of his ancestors upon him, more scornful
than ever before. He smiled at them, knowing they were
right. Knowing that anyone with the power of the Ta Kar
could never leave Hong Kong.
As he drove on, his heart began to beat less and less
with every passing moment. One two, one two three, one two,
one, one, one -- fading off into the clouds on a stream of
energy.
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