might be skittish on just spacing everyone. So, entertainment, then slavery in a prison mine where there isn’t a lot of paperwork filed, I expect.
Helton: ( Looking briefly around at the terrain) Sssshhhhiiiiit.
As his eyes come back to the people around him, he notices that a little way back, behind Harbin, six tough looking youngish punks are gathering.
Helton: ( Nodding slightly toward them) That doesn’t look good.
As he kneels there, Harbin casually glance s out of the corner of his eye, back at Helton, then bends as if stretching and surreptitiously picks up an oblong rock in one hand.
Harbin: ( Very quietly, nodding slightly) Good call. Can you move OK?
Helton stretches carefully , grimaces, and nods slightly.
Harbin: Right. Follow my lead.
Harbin slowly stands up, flexes, and goes toward the six punks. They look at him suspiciously, also stretching, flexing, and making fist-into-palm motions. Harbin grins a wicked grin as he approaches, while also taking a moment to leer at one of the ladies. They spread out, preparing to fight him all at once. When he gets close, but not quite touching range, he speaks quietly, pitching his voice as a whisper for their ears only.
Harbin: Kill the other men, then rape and kill the women and kids , take all the water? Make for an easy walk to the mine.
Thug1: Shit , yeah!
Thug2, Thug3, Thug4 all smile.
Thug5: Kill ‘em, then rape ‘em. Can’t hurt you that way, and it’s faster.
Thug6: I like the way you think!
Harbin: ( With a nod and an evil smirk) Thought so. Here’s how.
Harbin steps t oward them, waving them in slightly as if to huddle for a quick plan. There is a whirl of kicks, chops, lunges, smashes with his rock, a head butt and neck twist. In a few brief seconds of violence five of the punks lay dead, or at least out cold and bloody. The sixth, who was biggest, is fighting with Helton. They are about evenly matched. As they clinch and struggle Harbin steps up and efficiently whacks Thug6 in the back of the head with almost casual precision, laying him out very effectively, like it’s something he’s done many times before.
Everyone else is scrambling out of the way, then staring in wonder and fear at the sudden turn of events.
Helton: Thanks.
Harbin: ( Not the least bit out of breath, nods acknowledgment, and speaking quietly, keeping it just to Helton) Thank you. Four isn’t a problem; six is pushing it.
They look at the bodies, then at the fearful groups of passengers.
Helton: Well, that helps the water problem, anyway.
Everyone has scattered , putting some distance between themselves and the violence as they assess the situation. A few have grabbed water bottles as they moved. Then, everyone is still, eyes on Helton and Harbin as they walk toward the small heap of remaining water bottles, suspicion showing on their faces. Some of the adults shield their children behind them. Helton squats to pick up a bottle and hands a second to Harbin. They look around to evaluate their position.
From between two groups of passengers, a frail looking elderly man in a monk’s habit slowly gets to his feet, then walks stiffly toward them. They watch him silently. He stops a few yards away and regards them intently. His face is ashen and yellowish, even the whites of his eyes are yellow, but his expression is sharp and inquiring.
Monk: What now, my violent young friends?
Helton: Well, (takes a drink) We make a plan, and get everyone to safety.
Monk: ( With a small smile) I admire your faith, my son, but you seem to have more hope than sense.
Harbin: ( Skeptically) Doesn’t your God preach “God will provide?”
Helton: Yeah, right now all He’s provided is an abundance of shortage.
Monk: Perhaps. But He provided them (waves his hand to indicate the rest of the passengers) with you (nods to indicate the fallen punks).
Helton: ( Sarcastically) Which only proves He’s got a really odd sense of humor.
Monk: ( Wryly) Perhaps. But you don’t look like