The Bold Adventures of Master Wayne - Episode I

Happy Friday internet people! I got this cleaned up pretty quickly so I decided to share it with you before the weekend starts. This is the first of what I hope to be many EXTREMELY short stories touching on the life of DC Comic's Bruce Wayne from the ages of 14 till about 20.

As many of you Batman fans may already know, this is the time period in which young Bruce had left home to begin training himself to become the Batman. The episodes will be a conversation here, a journal entry there, some letters to Alfred and Leslie, and even a few hours of his training. But those will pop up few and far between all of my other works of fiction. Also, thanks to some friends' goading, I will be writing about a few villains. The Joker is an obvious first up.  
So check out the first of many below and be sure to subscribe or check back often for new releases. Enjoy!

Bruce took in the dark alley that surrounded him.  Rain was just beginning to come down in a light drizzle, coating everything with a dream-like sheen.  A thick fog began to roll in as his mother’s high heels clacked loudly against the cobblestone street beneath them, her warm smooth hand securely wrapped around his own.  Vanilla-scented smoke rose from his father’s pipe as he bobbed up and down beside Bruce.  He laughed as he walked, reenacting the play for his wife and son and a younger Bruce Wayne smiled, until he remembered why he was there.

As if brought on by the sudden realization, the air around them grew heavy with dampness and the vanilla-scented smoked turned bitter and rancid.  His mother’s hand was suddenly cold and clammy and Joe Chill stood just a few yards in front of Bruce’s family. Deep shadows cast by a single street lamp overhead lined his craggy face and the Waynes’ little boy began to scream.  He screamed so hard and so long he began to taste the iron in his mouth as his throat went raw and bloody.

But no amount of screaming would stop what was coming and Bruce knew it.  Joe Chill’s bloodshot eyes darted around the alley like a cockroach caught in the light as he walked out from under the lamp and towards the boy’s mother.  He wanted the pearls, he always wanted the pearls.
 
It made him sick, the way his father whimpered and his mother cried when they saw the tiny pistol.  How the benevolent and wise Dr. Thomas Wayne simply handed Chill his wallet and begged him, actually begged him, to let them go.  But it never mattered.  In 6 years of nightmares, it never mattered.
 
Joe Chill grabbed his mother’s pearls and his father’s wallet, but he wouldn’t go.  He just stood there, every single night…shaking.  Until finally, some thought, some fear or some reason would claw its way into the forefront of his mind and he would do it.  Bruce saw the moment over and over; the moment when the stranger who took everything would close those bloodshot eyes and pull the trigger, again and again.  Every night for 6 years Joe Chill killed Bruce Wayne’s parents, and every night for 6 years Bruce would watch, helpless.

Weary and depressed Bruce slowly opened his eyes.  Alfred was there, as he always was, sitting in a chair looking anxious and even more sleep-deprived than Bruce.
 
“Good Morning Master Bruce.  I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty of preparing some herbal tea and lemon for your throat.  There are some biscuits and a bit of honey as well.”

Bruce rubbed the sleep from his eyes and pushed himself up into a sitting position.  “I was screaming again, wasn’t I Alfred?”

“You were.  I am sorry to say.”  Alfred’s eyes drifted to the floor.  “Master Bruce, in 6 years you have never spoken to anyone about it.  Not even to me.  It…it could help.”

Poor Alfred.  Thought Bruce.  He is so good to me and I don’t have the decency to let him talk to me about it.  Alfred is more of an uncle than he ever was a butler. But how can I possibly sit here and talk to him, when I am forced to see it every single night?  I can’t…I won’t.

“Not today Alfred.”

“Very good Sir.  I will prepare you a proper breakfast and Ms. Thompkins is here to check in on you as well.”

Leslie.  Leslie Thompkins…My mother and father’s trusted friend and Gotham City’s best medical practitioner.  If it weren’t for her and Alfred, I don’t know where I’d be...Or do I?  It wasn’t an accident when I fell down that well just after they died...and they knew it.

“I’ll take a shower and head down.”

“Very good. I feel it is important to tell you that she has already informed me of your dropping out of Gotham Prep and that she is increasingly aware of your anti-social behavior.”

“Alfred I...”

“Master Bruce, it is not my place to judge you.  I am here to counsel you if you ask for it, but you have no obligation to explain your decisions to me.”

“Thank you Alfred, I knew you would understand.”

“I do not understand Master Bruce, and I do not pretend to.  But that is not the point.  And although I will not pester you for an explanation, Leslie most certainly will.  Now, take your shower and I shall see you at breakfast.”  Alfred turned on a dime and disappeared behind the huge oak door to Bruce’s bedroom leaving him alone to contemplate what Leslie would say.  

I don’t know why I left Gotham Prep.  It just didn’t feel right.  All those kids, smiling and laughing…I just couldn’t take it anymore.  I can’t take any of it anymore.  Not while Joe Chill is still alive.  And as quickly as that, Bruce knew what he intended to do.

When he arrived in the dining hall all of the chairs had been removed from the long dinner table but for two.  One was occupied by Leslie Thompkins, her long white hair cropped perfectly mid-way down her back, and the other was sitting directly opposite from her.  Surely this was Alfred’s subtle attempt at forcing him to sit directly across from Leslie, but Bruce knew she would confront him no matter where he sat.
 
As he took his seat, Leslie’s pale blue eyes stayed locked onto his face.  Alfred swept in, placed a steaming plate of eggs, bacon, toast and potatoes in front of Bruce, hesitated, then swept out the way he had come in.

“Bruce.” Leslie’s voice cut through the quiet dimness of the room like a knife. “Why in heavens would you drop out of school?  Do you have any idea what your parents went through to send you to Gotham Prep?”

My parents are dead Leslie.  Nothing they’ve done matters now.  “I do.  And I’m sorry.”

Leslie’s face flushed red.  “You…You’re sorry?  Bruce…I know it has not been easy for you, but you have not given life a chance to move on.  You prefer solitude when you need companionship.  You need friends Bruce.  Alfred loves you and I love you, but you need children your own age to surround you, to lift you up and remind you that life is full of happiness and love.  Everyone must face loss in their lives but it is the weak who hide in the darkness and brood upon their sorrow…Not the strong.  You see that don’t you?”

The darkness gives me strength, my solitude brings me peace. “I do.  Honestly Ms. Thompkins, I do.  I just don’t feel right at Gotham Prep.  It’s…it’s just too close to home.”

Leslie’s cold hard eyes softened and Bruce knew he had her where he wanted her.  “I see.  I can understand that.  So, then you must have a plan.  I know you are a smart boy Bruce, you may only be 14 years old but you are far beyond your years.  You always have been…An old soul, as Alfred and I like to say.”  A small smile reached her lips.

I have a plan Leslie.  You won’t like it, but I have a plan. “Well, I have thought about it.  I’ve decided to take my GED and study abroad.”

The smile on Leslie’s lips started to wan.  “Bruce, you have to be 18 to get your GED...you have 4 years left.  Where did you plan to study abroad?  I’m certain we could find another prep school that you could attend in Metropolis perhaps or...”

No more prep schools Leslie.  No more schools at all.  “No.  My parents left me everything Leslie.  You know I can buy myself a GED if I really want to.”

Leslie sat back in her chair and let out a loud sigh.  “Where will you go Bruce?  What will you do?”

Bruce’s thoughts burned in his mind and in his heart.  I will seek out the darkness inside me and I will conquer it.  I will learn how to hunt men from the French master Ducard.  I will study ninjitsu under the Shinobi, hunt with the African Bushmen, and learn to control my body in Nepal.  I will train myself to perfection and one day, I will return.  To devour Joe Chill with the darkness inside me and to protect these streets until my dying breath.  I will become the Dark Knight.  

But what he said was, “I will learn who I am, and decide who I will become.”

The End

The Conclusion of The Widow Sabishane

Well folks, I took a long vacation but I was not idle. Here are the final pages of The Widow Sabishane. I do hope you enjoy them! More shorts to come soon, vacation time is over.

Upon reaching the doorway Mr. Klemmens could distinctly hear a group of men talking in a range of accents.  “We’ve already conquered almost every nation on the planet. Why, just look at all the flags we’ve collected!  I say we dock the Gray Plague and live land-side for a while.”  Said one of the voices.  “Well, I happen to know that there are still many places left uncharted and unconquered; ones like that tiny island just a few clicks back we raided.  And speaking of those insects, there have to be more of them hiding there somewhere, I can feel it.  We should bombard the entire island and salvage what’s left.” Said another.  “Nonsense!  We could use the aborigines as slaves; there is no need to waste them.”  Mr. Klemmens recalled Atushka’s tales of horror, gripping his scimitar in both hands as he ground his teeth.  “So these are the men who called the slaughter on those villagers.  There must be more than one captain. ” Thought Mr. Klemmens.  “I’ll kill them all.”

Mr. Klemmens quietly began to unsheathed his falchion and slowly walk towards the open door.  Tensing his muscles, Mr. Klemmens felt adrenaline coursing through his veins.  He peeked into the doorway for a split second and took a quick count, pulling his head back in an instant.  “Five on the left, four on the right, and two in the middle.” He whispered to himself.  With the adrenaline pounding in his head he rounded the corner and rushed towards the circular table where the men were gathered.  Time slowed and he saw each of their faces turn pale as they saw the warrior-cat with madness in his eyes rushing towards them, their jaws dropping like drawbridges.

 
Just as Mr. Klemmens leapt into the air to dispatch the closest man, he was hit hard in his right side.  His entire body went limp as it sailed across the room and smacked into a wall.  The sound of men laughing drifted into his ears as he tried to move.  Faces swam in and out of focus around him.  Until the silhouette of a large bald man blacked out the lights overhead and the rest of the men moved away.  Mr. Klemmens blinked hard to focus and saw the face of the giant man who had left the room earlier.  “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, cat.”  reverberated the man’s deep voice, traveling through Mr. Klemmens as the room went dark and he lost consciousness.

Back on the deck of the ship the Widow Sabishane was getting impatient.  “Enough of this sitting business.” She said as she slowly stood up, her knees popping loudly with arthritis.  She began to walk the deck in the direction Mr. Klemmens had taken about half an hour ago until she reached the open door.  She looked around for her friend and noticed splashes of blood on one of the crates.  “Oh dear.”  She said aloud.  “Oh Mr. Klemmens, I do hope that’s not yours.”  The Widow walked into the doorway and began to slowly descend the stairs, withdrawing her flintlock pistol from its hiding place and loading it as she did.  

When she reached the bottom of the steps the pistol was loaded and cocked.  She was slow, but she was even more silent than Mr. Klemmens had been.  She looked down both pathways and listened to the sounds of the ship.  She heard nothing in the right path and an assortment of heavy machinery down the left path.  “The prisoners.” She said to herself as she began to walk down the path to her left.  As she continued walking the sounds became louder and she could now hear men and women calling out in pain and frustration.  Heavy sobs floated through the air as she walked onward.  Finally she came to the end of the corridor.  A tall brass archway led into a giant room with ceilings at least a hundred feet tall.  Giant cell blocks sat stacked one on top of the other as far as she could see.  Men and women were scattered on the ground as well, chained to a forge and banging out rivets and long steel beams.  The room seemed endless.  Thousands of emaciated men and women were stuffed into the cages like chicken on a farm; their rib cages bulging out of their sides and their bony fingers wrapped around steel bars like skeletons.  The Widow’s big blue eyes filled with tears but she blinked them back.  She hugged the wall as she held the pistol in both hands, moving slowly across the room.  “There has to be a master switch or some sort of mechanism to open these doors.”

 
As she looked around the room she heard a small voice behind her.  “You’re a friend of the kitty, aren’t you marm?”  She quickly turned around, pointing her gun in front of her as she did.  A tiny little girl in an orange and brown tattered dress cowered before her.  “Please don’t, I want to help you!” she cried out as she held her hands in front of her dirt-streaked face.  The Widow immediately lowered the pistol and stashed it in her satchel.  “Heavens child!  Never sneak up on an armed old lady.  Didn’t your mum teach you that?”  She said with a warm smile.  The little girl put her hands down and frowned.  “I never met my mummy.  I was born here in one o’ dem cages.”  The Widow, deeply moved with sorrow, bent down to the girl.  “I’m sorry Dearie.  You must be hungry, here take this.”  said the Widow as she took out a small scone and handed it to the girl, who promptly shoved the entire thing into her mouth and began to speak.  “I sah, tha, cuhtty.  Bag, muhn, tuk, him to pahn rum.” The Widow blinked in surprise. “You say you saw the kitty?  Who took him?”  The little girl swallowed hard and smacked her lips loudly.  “I saw the kitty, yes.  Big man took ‘im to the pain room missus.  Tha’s a nasty place that is, please don’t go there.”  The Widow’s heart filled with dread and she took the little girl by the shoulders.  “How long ago sweetheart?”  “Just afore you came in.  Please don’t go, it’sa awfully bad place.  People go in an they scream an they scream, but they don’t never come out.”

 
As if on cue, a blood-curdling scream came from beyond the far end of the room and the Widow knew it was Mr. Klemmens.  “Child, listen to me. Where is this room?”  The little girl reluctantly held out her hand and pointed in the direction of the scream.  “Where that just came from…at the end o’ dis room there’s a door.  It’s smaller than the rest and it’s always locked.”  The Widow looked her hard in the eyes, “And do you know a way to open all of these cages around us?  Is there a switch?”  The little girl brightened up, “Are you going to save us all missus?  Will you help us all go ‘ome?”  “I hope so child, please, do you know of a way?”  The little girl jumped up and down excitedly then stopped and looked at the ground with sadness.  “I do know, but if you flip tha switch then tha terrible screamin’ will start an alla the men will come.” The little girl covered her ears, “Please don’t let the screamin’ go on missus, it hurts me ears so bad.”  The Widow reached into her satchel and pulled out two cotton balls.  “If you stuff these into your ears it won’t hurt so badly.  Now let’s see where that switch is.”

The Widow’s plan was simple.  The little girl had been instructed to run to the each forge and to the bottom row of cages and tell the prisoners what was happening, she would tell them to head to the docks and steal the scouting vessels once the cages had been opened.  The men and women at the forges were to use their hammers and smash each other’s manacles right after the alarm began.  The Widow knew the prisoners would circulate the news and when the time came they would be ready.  Once this was done, the little girl (Claire, as the Widow had found out) was to stand by the switch, which was opposite of the door to the torture chamber where Mr. Klemmens was being held.  Once the Widow and Mr. Klemmens were out, Claire was to flip the switch.  They would then, hopefully, make a break for it with the other prisoners.

 
The little girl nodded her head when asked if she understood and the Widow made for the chamber.  As she stood outside looking at the panel on the wall, trying to figure out how to open it, she glanced over at the little girl.  Claire waved back happily as if playing a fun game and then dashed off towards the cages.  The Widow unsheathed her dagger, popped off the panel on the door and cut the wires underneath, shorting out the circuit.  The light above the door, which was red, flickered...and then went died as she placed the dagger back into its sheath.  “I knew that was too easy.” said the Widow under her breath.  She pushed herself against the metal door anyway and tried to nudge it to the left.  Surprisingly it slowly began to slide open.  When it was just barely ajar it ground to a halt and the Widow Sabishane could hear the deep voice of the giant-man.

 
“I’m guessing you’re the reason Blithe and Shorgun haven’t reported in.  Nice and quiet work…cat.  Too bad you’re on the wrong side.”  The Widow heard coughing and a heavy spitting sound, then the weakened voice of Mr. Klemmens carried itself to her ears.  “What makes you think...you’re on the right side?” choked Mr. Klemmens.  “Because you have...more wealth and...more power?  You steal all that you own and that...that makes you weak.  You can’t make lives for yourselves...so you steal other’s resources and use their ways of life as your own.  You have no culture, you have no tradition; you depend entirely upon all those who you persecute...You’re pathetic.”  The deep laughter of the giant man boomed through the doorway.  “Save your strength little kitten.  You’re going to need it for the next few hours, before you die.”  

While they talked the Widow had squeezed in through the tiny opening and she now stood in the doorway, the giant-man’s back was to her and she could see Mr. Klemmens.  Bound by barbed wire to a crudely cut slab of oak, he was barely recognizable.  Tufts of bloody fur were lying on the floor in tiny viscous pools of crimson liquid.  His left eye was a gaping hole, veins hung from the socket and blood covered the left side of his face, matting his fur.  A small table sat beside the monstrous man with an innumerable amount of nasty looking tools, every one of them wet with Mr. Klemmens’ blood.  The Widow held her hand over her mouth and her eyes welled up with tears.  Her body trembled with rage as she wrapped both hands around the flintlock pistol and raised it in front of her face, tears streaming down her cheeks, her arms shaking violently.  “Hey fat-head!”  She shouted.  The colossus turned in surprise and she immediately fired her single shot pistol.  The man looked up as smoke began to pour out of a tiny hole in his forehead and blood began to flow in a thin line down the middle of his face.  “You bi-” The huge man fell to his knees and dropped his head down, blood began to rush out of the tiny hole and well up onto the floor creating a large puddle, but the man did not collapse.  Instead he slowly looked up at the Widow and smiled crazily; blood oozed from the hole in his forehead as it dripped into his mouth, coating his teeth in a deep scarlet as his grin widened. 

 
“Sabishane!” shouted Mr. Klemmens hoarsely, “Run!”  The great beast of a man pulled his right knee up in an attempt to stand as blood continued to flow rapidly from his head wound.  “No.” said the Widow dryly as she stashed the pistol and unsheathed the dagger from her waistline.  She ran towards the giant-man screaming hoarsely, her white hair flowing out behind her like an awesome banner of pure white.  The man’s smile faded and his eyes widened with fear.  With one hand around the hilt of the tiny dagger and the palm of the other pressed firmly against the end of it the Widow leapt into the air, landing on the man’s chest as she rammed the 6-inch blade into his throat.  The humongous man tried to choke out another word but the widow twisted the blade.  The man sputtered and gurgled as she lept off and backed away.  Blood now poured from both wounds until finally the massive hulk collapsed onto the floor of the ghastly torture chamber.  The Widow looked at Mr. Klemmens for a long time before moving.

“Sabishane?” called out Mr. Klemmens in sickly thin voice.  “Are you alright?”  The Widow kicked the body of the giant man over and pulled her dagger from his throat, wiping it on her dress as she ran to Mr. Klemmens.  She quickly cut each wire that tied him down to the dead tree stump and embraced him as she sobbed heavily, her glasses squashed up against her face.  “Oh Mr. Klemmens!  Look at what they’ve done to you!”  Mr. Klemmens wearily wrapped his arms around the Widow and held her as tightly as he could.

A few moments later the Widow emerged from the torture chamber with Mr. Klemmens’ on her shoulder, his battered body covered in blood.  From across the hall Claire shrieked, “Kitty!” As she began to run for them the Widow Sabishane held up one free hand and shouted, “No Claire!  Hit the switch!  We have to move now.”  The little girl stumbled and almost fell as she quickly turned back around.  She jumped up and grabbed the metallic lever that stuck out from the wall, pulling on it with all her might.  The lever slowly moved downward as loud clicks came from behind the wall.  The sound of metal moving against metal began to echo throughout the entire hall and the three friends looked upward at the cages.  Men and women all around them were readying their hammers and bits of metal to free themselves from the shackles that held them to the forges.  Claire’s feet slowly touched the ground and the lever stopped moving as the three new friends stared upwards.  All of the cages slowly began to open and the prisoners began pouring out by the thousands.  Hammers began descending upon metal with a loud ring.  Then, suddenly, terror filled the old Widow’s heart as the alarm cut through the chaotic sounds of the escaping prisoners.  

WEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRN
WEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRN
WEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRN  

Red lights began to flash all around them and for a brief moment everyone froze.  Mr. Klemmens took a great effort and screamed so that the Widow could hear him over the siren’s ear piercing call, “Listen to me, we have to get to the engines.  If we don’t destroy them, there is nothing keeping them from chasing after us.  Even if all of the captains happen to die, the crew will just appoint another one to pick up where they left off.  Their evil is endless.”    The Widow nodded.  “But how do we find them?” she yelled loudly. “I know where tha engines are missus.  I can take you!” The Widow looked down at Claire and smiled sadly.  “It’s too dangerous my dear.  Follow the other prisoners while the crew is still scrambling to catch up.  They’ve been instructed to get to the docking bay and commandeer all of the boats; they can take you with them!”  The little girl’s face contorted into a frown and she put her hands on her hips.  “You ain’t gonna find the engines wid out me marm.  So’s that’s what it got to be.”  The Widow reluctantly agreed and Claire wasted no time before tearing off through the great hall towards the east side of the boat.  The Widow and Mr. Klemmens slowly followed behind as the blaring of the alarm and the chaos of the escaping prisoners filled the air.

 
The three of them traveled through countless twisting corridors as they descended deeper into the giant vessel.  Mr. Klemmens was getting weaker from the constant loss of blood and the Widow began to tire from supporting him.  Finally Claire stopped in front of a large, dark, metal door.  “Behind this door’s the end-geenes missus.”  The Widow nodded and asked her to open it.  Claire pushed aside a small door on a tiny panel and hit the big square button that was behind it.  Compressed air blew out from under the door and it slowly slid upward, revealing a large room with rows upon rows of water tanks.  The tanks were a brass colored metal and running from them were large metallic pipes, each one leading into a different pressure vessel where the water was being boiled.  Boilers hissed as the saturated steam was pushed out of them by large pistons, forced into larger motor units situated in the center of the room.  Throughout the room were a few dozen prisoners armed with various tools who were attempting to fight off their guards.

 
The Widow slowly eased Mr. Klemmens onto the floor as he slid the grenade-laden belt from his shoulder and placed it in his lap.  Sitting on the floor with his back propped up against the wall, he pulled the Widow close to him.  “You have to leave me here.  Take the little girl and get out to the docking bay.”  “What are you talking about Mr. Klemmens?  No one is staying here.  We’re going to set those grenades and we’re all going to get back to the boat together.”  The orange and gold cat smiled wearily and spit out a gob of blood.  “Look at me Sabishane.  I’m barely in one piece.  If you try to carry me to the boats you’ll never make it out.”  The old woman frowned, scrunching up her wrinkles as she did so.  “Nonsense Mr. Klemmens.  It simply isn’t your time.  Besides, I didn’t rescue you from that ridiculous bald man for you to die on me now.”  Mr. Klemmens smiled sheepishly and handed her the belt of grenades.  “Well, then what’s the plan old woman?”  The Widow looked around at all the boilers.  “I think the only thing to do is to blow up as many of these great big things as possible.  Without them they can’t heat the water for steam I think, not to mention it looks like the pipes feed directly into some sort of a motor.  If we’re lucky the blasts will reach them as well.  The only thing I’m worried about is that these grenades only have a few seconds before they explode so we’ll have to move from the back of the room to the front if we want to get them all.  You see Mr. Klemmens, even if I did let you stay, you aren’t fast enough to set the grenades and get to the next boiler before it explodes.”  Mr. Klemmens smiled half-heartedly, “OK, OK, I understand.  No heroics for this cat.  Now, how will we get to the docks before this ship sinks?” “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it Mr. Klemmens.” Said the Widow as she stood up and tossed the belt of grenades over her shoulder while turning to Claire.  “Dearie, listen to me.  Stay here with Mr. Klemmens, there are going to be some loud noises but I don’t want you to be afraid, Mr. Klemmens is here for you.  I’m going to make sure this ship never sets sail again.”  The little girl looked up at the Widow Sabishane and nodded, she then sat down by Mr. Klemmens and put her arms around his waist, burying her head into his fur.  The Widow looked down at him and smiled.  “You see Mr. Klemmens?  Not your time.”  Mr. Klemmens looked down at the little girl confused.  “She needs you, and she’ll need you even more after this.”  The Widow turned and began to run towards the boilers before he could ask what she had meant.

The Widow Sabishane ran past the men who were fighting the guards, most of them had been killed and rest were being tied up.  She shouted to the men over the loud sounds of the alarm.  “Get out of here, now!  I’m going to destroy the boilers and sink the ship!  The rest of the prisoners are already free, get to the docks and join them!”  The men looked shocked but they began to run anyway.  When she had gotten to the last row of boilers the Widow plucked off 2 grenades from the belt she had slung across her shoulder.  She pulled the pins simultaneously and wedged them under one of the pipes.  She quickly got to her feet and ran to the next row of boilers to do the same.  As she made her way to the middle of the room the first of the grenades exploded with a deep boom.  The floor shook violently and the Widow briefly stumbled.  The blasts from the grenades not only blew up the boilers but just as the Widow had predicted, the force of the explosion made its way into the motor units as well.

 
The sounds of metal shrapnel bouncing off the walls were loud and close, despite the Widow’s distance from the first explosion.  The grenades all began to explode one after the other, as the Widow got close enough to Mr. Klemmens to shout, she told him what to do.  “Mr. Klemmens!  Pick yourself up and get to the door, we’re going to seal it behind us!”  Mr. Klemmens slowly got to his feet, pushing Claire in front of him as he did so.  “Run Claire, get to the other side of the door.  I’ll be right behind you.”  The frightened little girl ran ahead and Mr. Klemmens slowly limped his way to the door.  As he finally passed through the doorway he turned around to look for the Widow.  She had set the last 2 grenades and was about 100 feet away from the door.

 
Mr. Klemmens saw the explosions behind her, giant clouds of fire rising into the air, scorching the ceilings.  Then, without warning, the boilers the Widow had just come from exploded into a fireball of water and metal.  The force of the blast sent shards of metal in all directions as Mr. Klemmens instinctually grabbed Claire and turned to hide behind the other side of the doorway.  Time slowed dramatically as he turned his head.  He saw the Widow running with explosion licking at her heels, her face locked in a grimace.  And then it happened, the Widow’s determined face slackened and she began to fall.  Mr. Klemmens’ stomach tightened and in one instance he let go of Claire and shouted for her to stay behind the wall.  Adrenaline rushed through him as he turned back again and ran for the door. As he crossed the threshold a violent explosions rocked the ship and he was forced to the floor.

Just a few feet away was the Widow, lying face down.  “Sabishane!” shouted Mr. Klemmens as he stretched his hand out towards her.  “Sabishane get up!  We have to go!”  Blood was pooling up around him but the Widow did not move and Mr. Klemmens had to push himself up to crawl towards her.  It was then that he saw the piece of metal, sticking out of her back like a knife, surrounded by a small patch of red soaked cloth.  “No.” he gasped under the explosions.  Carefully Mr. Klemmens grabbed her by the shoulders and began to drag her back behind the door with all the strength he could muster.  Once he had crossed back over the doorway he called to Claire, “Quickly, close the door!”  Claire froze and her eyes filled with tears at the sight of the Widow.  “NOW CLAIRE, THE DOOR!”  The little girl quickly came to her senses and jumped up, moving aside the panel and punching the button.  The door slammed down just as the last of the explosions came hurtling towards them in a huge wave of fire and metal.

 
The alarms had stopped and the muffled sounds of steel screaming and crashing to the ground echoed from behind the large, dark, metallic door.  The Widow Sabishane was lying in Mr. Klemmens’ lap as tears ran down his face; a small trickle of blood was resting on the corner of her mouth and her big eyes were opened just slightly. “Mr. Klemmens…Take the girl and get to the docks.  You haven’t much time.”  Claire walked over to them sullenly and wrapped her arms around Mr. Klemmens from behind.  “I will not leave you Sabishane.” He cried stiffly.  The Widow smiled a tiny, weak smile and faintly grabbed Mr. Klemmens paw, placing it on Claire’s hand.  “Don’t be stupid, you have her to protect now.  Besides, my time has been coming for...a while now.  The Moon is at its apex, the wind is at rest, and the ocean and I are at peace.”  Mr. Klemmens stared at the little black haired girl and his heart filled with pride and sadness.  “I understand Evelyn.” He said as he picked up the Widow’s head from his lap and carefully laid it down onto a folded bundle of cloth on the floor.  The old woman looked up at him with her ancient blue eyes one last time and smiled her great big smile.  “Thank you Mr. Archibald Klemmens.” And she closed her eyes for the last time.

Mr. Klemmens ran as fast as he could, paw in hand with Claire as the little girl led him through the twisting corridors of the ship.  The giant ship was sinking and Mr. Klemmens could hear water behind them, rushing into the corridors.  “It’s here!  We’re here!” shouted Claire as they came into a large room.  There were a few prisoners still fighting guards but as the ship began to tilt and the ground became unlevel the men abandoned their battles and headed for the ships, prisoners and guards alike.  Mr. Klemmens spotted a small tugboat and scooped up Claire.  As he ran for the boat the water that chased him burst out of the corridor, taking a group of men who were still fighting with it and bashing them up against a wall.  Mr. Klemmens ran harder pushing himself as far as he could go, pain exploding across his entire body and the taste of blood was rich in his mouth.  He reached the boat and slashed the rope that held it to the dock with one claw.  Mr. Klemmens ran up the plank that led onto the deck of the tiny vessel and kicked it off once he had crossed. Running to the engine he placed Claire down and shouted out to her, “Get down below in the crew’s quarters, it’s too dangerous for you up here.”  Claire saw the doorway and ran for it.

 
Mr. Klemmens leapt up to the Captain’s seat and turned the tiny key in the ignition.  The boat sputtered and Mr. Klemmens’ heart sunk; the boat would not start.  A huge blast of water hit the back of the tiny tugboat, surging them forward, out of the Gray Plague’s dock and into the dark waters of the ocean.  Mr. Klemmens tried the key again and this time the engine fired up.  He slammed the yoke as far forward as he could and the ship took off.  Mr. Archibald Klemmens set the till and turned around.  Plumes of smoke rose from the Gray Plague and fire spewed from giant holes all across the hull, lighting up the night sky and illuminating the hundreds of tiny ships that moved silently away from the sinking titanic. A bead of a tear formed in his remaining eye and he blinked it away as the ship slowly sunk into the depths of the ocean.  “Goodbye Evelyn.” He said to himself as he watched the ship disappear beneath the black ocean.  “Goodbye Widow Sabishane.”

Part VI

The Final Lesson

As the Widow Sabishane’s body drifted downwards, the Ocean sent a current through the broken hull of the massive ship.  It moved along all of the halls and into each room where it wrapped itself around the remaining captains and crew and dragged them all deeper into the abyss.  It traveled through the entire ship until finally it found the Widow.  Her long white hair drifted out of her rubber rain slicker as she hung motionless in the water.  The Ocean smiled and wrapped its strong arms around her.  “You’ve done your part Evelyn Sabishane.  It is time to go home.”  The currents pulled her out of the ship and carried her for a long, long time.  Eventually, Evelyn Sabishane would reach the tides of her homeland and the Earth would bring her ashore and lay her body to rest.

 
Meanwhile, Mr. Klemmens and Claire had reached the old Victorian boathouse and set sail for Apuwashi with a few of the escaped prisoner vessels during the night.  As they reached the beaches of the tiny majestic island, the sun was just coming up over the horizon.  Many of the villagers had gathered on the shores of Apuwashi as they had seen the smoke of the giant burning vessel from the sanctuary.  When Mr. Klemmens and Claire came ashore Chief Atushka was waiting with a giant grin upon his face.  As they got closer his smile faded.  Mr. Klemmens looked down at the black sand of the Apuwashi shore, his one arm resting on Claire for support.  “She’s gone Atushka.”  The Chief looked off towards the ocean and took in a deep breath.  “Then we will honor her tonight as though she were still among us.  Come, you need to dress your wounds and rest.”  The tiny Chief led them into the jungle towards the sanctuary in silence.

 
That night music played and the villagers danced.  Atushka had his people prepare a huge feast in the Widow’s honor on the beaches of the island.  Before they began the feast, the Chief said a few words honoring the bravery of the Widow and the prisoners who did not make it.  He then asked everyone to take a moment of silence.  Mr. Klemmens hung his head low; a leather eye patch now resting over the spot where his left eye had been.  His remaining eye slowly filled up with tears and they began to drip into the sand, creating tiny craters where they landed.  Unable to bear the pain he stood up from the fire and walked down the length of the beach.  He wandered for a little while, until he was far enough away so that the fires of the celebration barely illuminated his face.  He sat down on the beach just above the rising tide and began to sob heavily.

 

“Why are you crying Mr. Klemmens?” said the old woman’s voice.  Mr. Klemmens looked up sharply and turned his head back and forth in confusion, but he saw no one.  “Widow?”  He asked the wind as it lightly blew through his fur.  “I am here Archibald.” Said the old woman’s voice.  Mr. Klemmens stood up and turned around desperately.  “Widow, where are you?  I am lost without you!”  “Calm down dear, calm down.  I am all around you.  I am in the ocean, the wind and the moon.  I am in you Mr. Klemmens, and I always will be.  Are you so quick to forget your lessons?”  Mr. Klemmens smiled faintly.  “No, forgive me Sabishane.  I know that we are all connected, and...if I am observant then…”  “Then you can see those connections.”  As the Widow’s voice said this, a tiny hand slipped into Mr. Klemmen’s paw and held it tight.  When he looked down, Claire was smiling up at him brightly and the orange and gold Somali cat smiled back.  “Now you see Mr. Klemmens.” Echoed the Widow Sabishane’s voice.  “Now you see.”

The End