"The Fox and the Goats"

Philadelphia – 1984

Penance drew a breath. The fresh green of that grand Scottish land he knew all those centuries ago fell away, replaced by the fetid and mildew-stained scent of Ikey Boggs' office. The freedom of those highland hills— that liberating sense of bounding over rough terrain while horse's hooves thundered beneath his body— was replaced with a certain suffocating and claustrophobic strangling. Just what was it, anyway?

The tight strain of plastic bonds on his wrists and ankles gave him his answer.

Captivity. Yeah, that was it.

When the boy opened his eyes he saw Whip's knees not an inch from his nose. He craned his head up, lazily meeting the girl's gaze. He thought to bare his teeth at her, but he didn't. He merely looked away.

"How long was I out?"

"Ten minutes, maybe." Whip said. "They got a fed comin' to pick you up. An' he's a legit fed, too; some sissy named 'Noirbarret', or some such."

The boy blinked. He perched his lips:

"Noir... barret?"

"Yeah. Can't imagine you've ever heard of him."

The boy shook his head, brushing his cheek against the cold concrete floor:

"No. There's something about that name, though..."

"Ikey's got Russell and Tyrone watching the alleys. He's manning the phone, in case that fed calls again. Otherwise, though, he should be on his way. He'll be here inside of twenty minutes."

"So what do you want, then?" Penance scrunched his brow. "Just leave me alone, Whip!"

The girl smiled gently and brushed a few stray strands of Penance's hair back into place; this made the boy squirm in his bonds, and then he did bare his teeth at her:

"Don't touch me!" He barked.

"I keep kinda thinkin' back to my brother," Whip said. "Remember my talkin' about him?"

"The geek, you mean?"

Whip's thin smile widened. She nodded.

"Such a friggin' geek. God! Him an' those stories! Him an' his fool daydreamin'. I said that he'd loved to have met you, and that's the truth. More'n that, though: if he did meet you, well, he'd probably think you were good enough to be in a comic book, yourself..."

"What's your point?" The boy growled.

Whip slowly got up off her knees and walked over to Ikey Boggs' desk. She retrieved Penance little knife and clutched the handle tight in her fist. When she faced the boy her eyes were cold as stone:

"In a comic book, most heroes are always getting their foolish asses in a jam. That's just how it works, you know..."

Whip knelt down over the boy, brandishing his knife, and the blade glowed like a white-hot poker under the floodlights. She leaned down near his head, and the knife moved with her. She whispered in Penance's ear:

"And, when things look really bad..."

Penance closed his eyes and twisted his head to one side, grimacing. Suddenly he felt his body flip around. Whip pinned him facedown against the concrete and held his tied wrists steady with one hand.

"...that's when the hero gets free, white bread."

He felt the knife come under the plastic cuffs, but before Whip could slice them apart the door to the curio shop opened with a bang. Ikey Boggs loomed over Whip, his crooked shadow falling over the girl like a pall. At the same time a door on the other side of the room opened. This door lead to a back alley, and light from outside invaded the cave-like office, making both Penance and Whip squint. As soon as the door opened both Russell and Tyrone charged inside, and they got Whip off Penance quickly, pinning her hands down at her side. One of them squeezed her wrist tight enough to make her whimper in pain, forcing Penance's blade out of her hand. It clattered uselessly as it hit the concrete.

Ikey Boggs casually strutted into the office, bouncing on his feet as if he were dancing to some bad house music. He wiggled one finger in front of Whip's face even as the girl struggled in Russell and Tyrone's hands.

"I am, you understand, so very disappointed in your conduct, my little whippoorwill (weep-a-weeeeel)." He leaned over closer to her. "When I asked if you were a thief, my dear girl, I didn't mean you should be stealing my property—"

"Kid's not your property, Ikey," Whip said. "An' we gotta let him go! This isn't right and you know it."

"I know," Ikey cooed, stroking the girl's braided hair, "that this boy will make me very rich, child. And maybe, well, just maybe you'll be making our friend Marquez a little richer, too." The man laughed even as Whip's face contorted in horror. "If he can fetch the right price for your skinny little—"

The girl thrust her head forward, hocking a massive wad of spit. It landed square in Boggs' face. The man stumbled back as if he'd been shot, and for a moment he just stood there, Whip's spit curling down the corner of his cheek, eyes bugged in shock. Slowly the man grit his teeth, and he gnashed them so tight he might have chomped right through his own head. He drew a breath and turned around, smoothing the hair on his forehead and bowing his head. He let a calming breath out through his nose and appeared far more composed than before.

And then he turned around and punched Whip in the gut as hard as he could.

The girl crumpled to the ground, shrieking for breath, and she put herself into a fetal ball, writhing like a worm. Russell and Tyrone instinctively released their grip on her, each of them backing away in surprise. When they both looked up at Boggs, now massaging his own fist, the man motioned to the girl with his head:

"Hold her up, now," he whispered.

The boys again looked at the writhing girl, and then each other.

"Hold her up, now!" Spit flew from the corners of Boggs mouth as he shrieked, and his shout echoed in the dingy office.

The boys uneasily complied, gently dragging the girl to her feet.

"Sorry, Whip," Russell whispered. "Nothin' for it, I'm afraid..."

Boggs cracked his knuckles and stood before the girl. He ran a delicate hand along her freckled cheek:

"Poor baby birdie," he smirked, "flying high and free. She thinks she's so above the rules, does she? Well, let's tie her feet back down on the ground..."

"Ikey..." Whip hissed. "I..."

"Shh, shhh!" He cooed. "Now: let's clip those beautiful li'l wings of yours, child..."

Whip tried to speak. She didn't have the time.

Boggs connected on her jaw with a brutal little backhand, and he followed this up with a kick to the girl's groin. Both blows made Whip scream and most of the air was out of her lungs when he again thrashed her gut; the only noise he got from her on this blow was an ugly burping sound.

"Hey!"

That sound gave Ikey pause. For one thing it was as loud as the scream of a banshee, and for another it was coming from right behind him. The man looked back over his shoulder; Penance now stood awkwardly on his bound feet, wrists still tied behind his back, and only his well-developed sense of balance kept him from falling over like a cut redwood. He glared at the man with a demonic sneer, head tilted down, and the floodlight cast shadows over his eyes to make it look as if his face just 'stopped' right above that crooked nose of his.

Ikey waved a hand at the boy:

"You best be getting back down on your rear, little man, lest you want me to knock you onto it!"

"Femin duol ou, coco sal," Penance snarled.

Ikey took another stunned step backward, and again he looked like he'd just been shot. He glared at the boy, eyes bugged, and then he grit his teeth:

"Wh— what did you just say to me, "ti gason?"

"You heard me, you Haitian prick!"

"Maybe I didn't make it clear to you what kind of man I am, child—"

"A guy who goes around hitting girls isn't any kinda 'man' I can think of," Penance said. "Also: you're an idiot, Boggs!"

"How you figure?" The man whispered to Penance, and his face was scrunched as if he were actually mulling the boy's words. His face soon contorted into a twisted mess of pure rage: "How you figure!" he screamed. "Seeing's how I got you trussed like a Christmas turkey, and your little birdie bitch knuckling under my knuckles? How you figure, kid?"

"The FBI is looking for me," Penance said, "'cause they think I lopped a priest's head clean-off his shoulders. They're offering an insane reward for me, too, 'cause they think I'm more dangerous than anyone in 'polite society' could possibly handle. Wanna know something else, Boggs?" Penance's wicked grin spread. "They've probably been looking for me for a long time, and they haven't found me. But you think you can just up and grab me off the street and expect to succeed where they've failed?"

Boggs smirked, and he winked at the boy:

"In a word? Yes."

"Anybody who hunts me tends to be careful, Boggs. And I've had lots of people hunt me, in my time..."

The man chuckled, even pretending to hold his side from the 'pain' of laughing.

"Ah, that's so, is it, little man?"

Penance nodded.

"They've all been careful. A lot more careful than you, Boggs," Penance said. "And they've all got something else in common, now, too—"

"Let's wrap up the speech, brat," Boggs said. "I'll be getting that duct tape for your lips, now—"

"I'm trying to give you advice, you moron."

The man's sarcastic grin spread. He made a grand gesture at the boy:

"Oh, by all means! And just what, exactly, do you advise that I do, little man?"

Penance grit his teeth and bowed his head. His scrawny muscles strained, especially his arms and legs, and within a few seconds the sound of plastic snapping apart rang through the office. The cuffs binding Penance's wrists and ankles fell away and he stood before Ikey Boggs untied. The boy absently cracked his knuckles and twisted his head to one side, popping his vertebrae.

"I'm about to teach you," the boy whispered, "why it's important to look before you leap."

Ikey blinked at this, but then he quickly shook his head:

"Damn defective plastic ties," he growled. "Never buy cheap: that's the real lesson of the day."

Whip, still disoriented from her thrashing, groggily looked up at the boy with unfocused eyes:

"Run, white bread!" She yelled.

Penance merely shook his head, never losing that cold snarl. He spoke as if he were declining a refill of soda at a restaurant:

"No."

Boggs glared at Tyrone and motioned to the boy. "Let's do this the old-fashioned way, shall we? Wrap him in tape. Oh, and ifhe resists you at all then wrap him from his goddamn head to his toes!"

Tyrone released Whip and approached the boy. He tried to grab Penance by the shoulder but the boy stepped back and batted Tyrone's hand away. In response Tyrone balled a fist and struck Penance on the cheek.

This proved unwise.

Penance immediately slugged Tyrone in the solar plexus. The force was enough to make him collapse in agony, and the older boy tried retaliating by leaping up into Penance's chest. He rushed through the air with Penance held aloft, carrying him like a bull that speared a matador with its horns, and then slammed Penance into the ground, coming to rest on top of the boy. That would be the end of the contest in a fight between normal boys.

Penance was not a normal boy.

Tyrone suddenly flew off Penance's body, sent sprawling across the room courtesy of a vicious kick from the boy's skinny legs. He slid across the concrete floor, and the floor made a terrible squealing noise as his body moved across it. When he reoriented himself, dazed, he saw Penance coming for him.

Penance stalked across the ground with a purposeful stride, and when Tyrone got up Penance made sure he'd stay down: he unleashed a flurry of brutal punches and kicks, aiming for the older boy's throat, stomach and groin. After only a few seconds Tyrone was reeling like a welterweight going into the ninth round against a heavyweight champion.

By this time both Ikey and Russell raced to Tyrone's aid. Russell tackled Penance, forcefully holding him down while Ikey tried kicking at his face. With a vicious scream Penance cast Russell off of him and landed a terrible blow against Ikey's chest, causing the man to sputter, cough, and then collapse behind his desk. When Russell tried attacking the boy from behind Penance whipped around. He caught Russel's fist with both of his hands. Russel's fist stopped instantly, held fast in the smaller boy's grip, but Penance wasn't done with it. He grabbed Russell's wrist with one hand and, teeth cemented together, belted out an angry roar.

That roar muffled the noise of Russell's wrist bones snapping apart.

Russell collapsed to the ground, holding his broken wrist and screaming in agony. Penance stood over him, lips pulled apart in a snarl and white froth dangling off the corners of his mouth.

Tyrone finally recovered from his blows, and he staggered to his feet, supporting himself with one hand against the wall. Penance lazily reached down on the ground between himself and Russell and retrieved his little knife. With instinctual motion he loosed it, and Tyrone howled in pain, his wailing voice matching Russell's; the boy's young palm, pressed firmly against the wall, now also bore the weight of Penance's little knife. It stuck him clean through the center, fixed fast in the rotted wood of the wall, and the panicked boy could only spasm with his free hand, wailing tearfully.

"Try not to move too much," Penance advised. "You might just bleed to death."

Raspy gasping sounded from the far side of the desk. Penance immediately looked back there, his rusty eyes burning like coals. He sneered again, and more foam formed around the edges of his lips. The boy leapt on top of the desk and was just in time to catch Ikey right in the face with his foot. The man leapt up, to ambush the child, bearing an oversized silver gun in one hand, but the force of Penance's kick sent him sprawling back against the wall.

Penance was on him before he could react, and the boy quickly went to his gun-bearing hand, sinking his teeth into Ikey's wrist. The man howled and blood flowed freely. Penance didn't remove his teeth until the gun fell from the man's hand. In desperation Ikey tried to force his weight on the boy, trying to crush him beneath his body.

Penance, however, supported the man's weight with one hand.

That was enough to stun Ikey, even in the heat of the moment. At least until Penance used his free hand to grab the metal scale on the desk and bash it against the man's head.

Ikey Boggs crumpled to the ground. The man gyrated about on his back, looking something like a turtle flipped over, with its belly exposed to the sun. When he finally managed to roll over onto his stomach he began weakly crawling away from the desk.

That wouldn't save him.

Penance stood over Boggs, busted metal scale in hand, and he landed a forceful blow to the man's right kidney, making Ikey spasm and wheeze on the ground. Boggs curled up and tried shielding his head, which was good, since that was Penance's next target. Penance barely missed the man's skull, instead crushing one of Ikey's hands, shattering fingers. The boy violently kicked at Boggs' head until the man was distracted enough for Penance to land another blow; this one sent Boggs into a daze, and he could only lay on his back, forehead gushing blood, as Penance roared with rage and held the scale aloft for the killing blow.

"Filthy beast!" The boy roared.

"Penance! Stop! Please!"

The boy looked over at the far corner of the room; Whip was on her knees, recovering from her thrashing, and she held out a pleading hand:

"Come on, kid," she managed. "You don't have to kill him; just let him be—"

"He's a beast," Penance snarled, hocking out a wad of bloody spit from his mouth, licking at the crimson foam around his lips. "Filthy bastard deserves to get his skull smashed in!"

"Just let him go," she shook her head. "He ain't threatenin' you. Not now. Try to be a graceful winner, kid—"

"Can't risk him following me," the boy shook his head. "I don't have the luxury to act very 'graceful' right now, Whip! And I'm not some kinda hero from one of your brother's comic books, either!"

Whip, face contorted in pain, suddenly relaxed. She shook her head and stared at the concrete floor:

"Alright, white bread," she whispered. "That's fine, then. You gotta do what you gotta do, right? I mean, after all..." she looked up at the boy, locking eyes with him. "That's what any self-respecting animal would do, isn't it?"

Penance's drawn lips slowly fell. His blind rage faded, and in its place he could only see two young children on the bank of a waterway, standing just outside a church in Spain. Something about that image made him want to smile. He didn't though. He drew a breath and slowly wiped the bloody foam from his lips. When he looked down at the reeling Ikey Boggs his sneer returned, but he sighed hard and tossed the scale across the room. When he looked over at Whip he gave her a wan smile:

"You know something, Whip? You're soft."

He looked down at Boggs and noticed something shiny and gold peeking out his vest pocket; it was a cigarette lighter. Penance plucked it up, and then he kicked the man one last time in the gut, making Boggs squeal:

"And it's pronounced 'whip-or-will', you stupid Haitian bastard!"

The boy walked up to Tyrone, who was still gibbering and squirming, trying to remove his impaled hand from against the wall. Penance quickly pulled his knife out of the older boy's palm, making Tyrone scream. He boy fell to his rear and bundled up his ruined palm under his sweatshirt.

"Don't worry: you won't really bleed to death." Penance wiped the blade off on his shorts as he walked away. He stopped briefly, tilting his head, and he shrugged: "Actually, I'm not really sure about that. I don't remember how it works with you people..."

He made it a few steps before again turning around:

"And, uh, when I say 'you people' I don't mean, you know..." he motioned up and down Tyrone's body, "'black people'. I mean... something else."

Given the circumstances of the moment Tyrone was obviously not listening to a word Penance said. He grabbed his tartan backpack and stalked off for the alley exit, but when he put his hand on the door handle he looked back at Whip:

"Can you walk?" Penance asked.

The girl nodded, gingerly getting to her feet.

Penance motioned outside with his head:

"Then let's see if you can run, too."

Whip slowly crossed the room, holding her bruised sides. She was slowly recovering from her shock, and she turned around to survey the room: Russell still sat on the ground, cradling his shattered wrist and bawling like an infant. Ikey lay near his desk, mumbling incoherently, with a small train of blood oozing out his forehead. Tyrone rocked back and forth against the wall, bundling his pierced hand against his shirt like a baby in swaddling clothes, gibbering like a loon. The stale scent of blood, sweat and urine permeated the room.

Penance motioned to the door with his head:

"We've got less than ten minutes before that fed of yours gets here, Whip; we need to get moving."

The girl's lips trembled as she surveyed the mess Penance made, but she managed to still them. She even managed to speak after a moment's pause:

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

"Blasphemy," Penance pulled a crumpled cigarette from his pocket. He wedged it between his lips and then lit it with Boggs' lighter. "That's not very nice, you know..."