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(TFT) Huddled under the trees

   There, huddled under the trees are Rebel Patrol and one or two members of
each other patrol.  This isn`t about recognition or being included this is
about sharing in the guilt of a crime.  They have done it.  They have appealed
to my dark side.  I want to know what is going to happen.

   ``Light me.``  A Rebel voice says in the dark.

   A sliver zippo flips open and lights.  It`s a fiberglass bow with a target
arrow.  Tied down with twisted wire around the last 2 decimeters to the tip is
an oil soaked rag.  The arrow and rig looks advanced, like they have tested
and developed it.  But apparently in all their dress rehearsals they have
never actually tried this  during darkness.  I don`t know how many readers
have been in the dark and suddenly looked into a fire but . . .

   ``I`m blind!``  He`s standing there with the drawn arrow and turns to his
right.  ``I CAN`T SEE!``  Everyone takes a step back.  He turns more to the
right, almost 90 degrees from his original facing, and lessens the pull on the
string about half way.

   The arrow slips free and flies live.  A sphere of illuminated space follows
the arrow showing us the ground, a person, roots, a tree, and then strikes the
youngest member of the Rebel Patrol, standing next to the tree, in the chest.
He actually catches the slow moving lobbed arrow with his right hand and in
his instinctive backward step trips over a root and falls on his back.

   I don`t know what the others think they see as they tear off into the woods
screaming and growling in all directions.  He is laying there on his back
holding a flaming arrow though.  Just as he tosses it aside the Rebel with the
bow says ``Oh-my-go-I-killed-him!``  He runs to his side.  At which the
youngest kid laughs at his face.

   So that`s the flaming arrow story.  Oh and that day with the knives and the
machete I stay behind to watch the 6 of them mount their two bikes.  I have to
see how they do this.  The two oldest kneel down and the youngest climb onto
their shoulders.  They mount the bikes and the other two climb backward onto
the handlebars.  They peddle away.

   Then the youngest tosses the machete handle to the other youngest.  A
perfect one handed catch.  Then he reaches into his back pocket.  The bikes
leave the parking lot and enter the street.  He pulls out a pair of pliers.
Holds the machete sheath, reaches in with the pliers and grips them.  Then
pulls out a full machete blade.  He holds it straight up over his head as they
ride away.

   Their Chits still intact.

David Michael Grouchy II

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