Afterlife? -No: Aftershock!
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Chapter Fourteen
.
While Boromir was fighting against a group of "Gully Rats", Mr.Foster was having a difficult time trying to explain to his daughter that 'Mr. Steward' was no warrior from the legends.
"Sandy, what you are saying is absolutely impossible. I admit that he fits the role he's playing at the theatre very well, but that is all. But warriors just don't exist in real life, believe me."
Sandy snorted. "He isn't from here, anyway, he's from another world, where there are orcs and dwarves and elves."
At this point, Mr. Foster had had enough. "Sandy, no elves, no dwarves and certainly no -orcs exist anywhere. Now stop arguing and go to sleep, school starts early tomorrow."
Sandy didn't argue, but she didn't believe him either. Parents sometimes just didn't understand, that she knew. In her sleep, she dreamed of a land crowded with elves and dwarves and Boromirs, all fighting the hideous orcs. And in spite of such blood gorged dreams, she slept more peacefully than Boromir, who spent the night in some backyard, bedded on hard asphalt, of which he didn't even know the name.
.
The morning dawned cool and grey, the sky was a dull spread of clouds and stiff gusts of wind tore at People's clothes. Boromir didn't know that the people had already read about the street fight during the night in the newspaper. He didn't know that the police was searching for a man fitting his description.
He didn't know that the only reason why the corrupted policemen of the East Side hadn't got hold of him yet was the fact, that the rest of the population here was keeping their mouth shut. Everyone who lived under the cruel heels of the "Gully Rats" only felt satisfaction at the thought that someone had beat them at their own game.
Over night, Boromir had turned into their secret hero. He received smiles from many a stranger that morning, but why, he couldn't fathom. The people treated him similarly to the townspeople of Minas Tirith, as if they knew him and were at the same time aware that he couldn't know them. Puzzled, he played along, smiling and greeting the people who seemed so eager to exchange a gesture or word with him.
.
In their hovercar, the policemen Grimes and Wirrell discussed the latest news, too. Fully aware, that the description of the "Mad Fencer" fit the 'Mr. Steward' they'd seen the day before exactly.
"So he actually does know how to use that sword." Wirrell mused. "It did strike me as odd how familiar he was with it, but I'd never have thought-"
"Do you really think it was him who attacked?" Grimes blurted out, interrupting him.
Wirrell laughed an unpleasant laugh. "No, but that's of minor importance, isn't it? The police down there is so corrupted, they'd say black was white if the "Gully Rats" told them to do so. Not that I blame the guys, you'd have to have a death wish to oppose that gang!"
"Or a good sword." Grimes smiled. "And there we were, believing him his story that he'd been mugged by the "Gully Rats". I bet not a shred of that story was true. According to the article, he killed four, knocked out two others and injured a total of seven gang members."
"Makes me glad he took a liking to us." Wirrell added. "I wonder what'd have happened if we hadn't believed his story. He might have tried to fight his way out of the hospital."
"And we'd have been the first to take down. Good thing we did believe him."
"Hey! Where's your sese of duty!" Wirrell chided him laughingly.
"Forgot it at home this morning, anyway, it's a good thing he's loose. Maybe he'll do what so many have tried and failed to do: Get rid of the "Gully Rats"."
"Maybe."
.
Sandy's school was abuzz with the news. All the students from first to ninth grade talked only of the "Man-who-won-a-street-fight-against-the- "GullyRats". Sandy already knew who that man was. The newspaper had in fact refrained from broadcasting Boromir's name, but the description matched him exactly.
Grinning broadly, Sandy announced everywhere, that she knew the man. She told everyone of her encounter with him at the hospital, but nobody believed her. As soon as she began telling the story with the orcs, everone turned away. Angrily, she suddenly shut up. 'They haven't seen him, or they'd believe me!' She thought. 'Mr. Boromir is a warrior!'
Her father, too, knew at once who the "Mad Fencer" in the newspaper article was. He had to admire the friendly man, who had been so kind to his little daughter and who only lately had received serious injuries, who had to fight against the "Gully Rats" as soon as he was outside the hospital again, and won!
Although he still didn't believe the story that 'Mr. Steward' had come from another world, he did begin to believe that the man was more than the actor he had thought him to be. Just then, there was a knock at his door. Boromir had finally remembered the card Mr. Foster had given him and shown it to an elderly woman, asking her to give him directions.
She at once offered to walk to Mr. Foster house with him and soon after they had arrived. Now he stood face to face with the friendly man, whose daughter had been the only one to believe his incredible story, and didn't know what to say.
Mr. Foster didn't mind, however, he pulled Boromir inside, invited the old woman in, who declined, but told Mr. Foster to make sure his guest stayed inside. Then Mr. Foster shut the door, made Boromir sit into one of the chairs of the kitchen, handed him a piece of toast and chuckled.
"You don't know you're in the papers, do you?" Mr. Foster. asked merrily. "The police is looking for you, the charge is murder. You're lucky they haven't found you yet."
"The papers? And murder?!?" Boromir asked, staring at his host, wide-eyed.
"Don't worry, the people know the police is corrupt and at the beck and call of the "Gully Rats", so they won't turn you in. But you'll have to keep a low profile, nevertheless."
"A low profile?"
"Yes, till grass has grown over the whole thing."
Although Boromir didn't know that expression either, he understood what it meant. He would have to stay hidden till the people looking for him grew tired of it and forgot the whole affair. Then he asked the question that he'd have to ask sooner or later.
"I don't have a place to stay at, at the moment, Mr. Foster. And if it wouldn't be too great an inconvenience, I'd be very grateful to you if I could stay here for a while."
"It wouldn't be any inconvenience at all. I've even got a small room you could have for yourself. As soon as you've eaten your breakfast, I'll show you."
Boromir thanked him gratefully and ate another three or four toasts spread with honey, before he helped clear the table and then followed Mr. Foster to the little room. All the while, he spotted queer objects whose use he couldn't determine. He didn't ask about them, however, but decided to wait till Sandy was home. She'd tell him without questioning his sanity and without asking him why he didn't know.
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Chapter Fourteen
.
While Boromir was fighting against a group of "Gully Rats", Mr.Foster was having a difficult time trying to explain to his daughter that 'Mr. Steward' was no warrior from the legends.
"Sandy, what you are saying is absolutely impossible. I admit that he fits the role he's playing at the theatre very well, but that is all. But warriors just don't exist in real life, believe me."
Sandy snorted. "He isn't from here, anyway, he's from another world, where there are orcs and dwarves and elves."
At this point, Mr. Foster had had enough. "Sandy, no elves, no dwarves and certainly no -orcs exist anywhere. Now stop arguing and go to sleep, school starts early tomorrow."
Sandy didn't argue, but she didn't believe him either. Parents sometimes just didn't understand, that she knew. In her sleep, she dreamed of a land crowded with elves and dwarves and Boromirs, all fighting the hideous orcs. And in spite of such blood gorged dreams, she slept more peacefully than Boromir, who spent the night in some backyard, bedded on hard asphalt, of which he didn't even know the name.
.
The morning dawned cool and grey, the sky was a dull spread of clouds and stiff gusts of wind tore at People's clothes. Boromir didn't know that the people had already read about the street fight during the night in the newspaper. He didn't know that the police was searching for a man fitting his description.
He didn't know that the only reason why the corrupted policemen of the East Side hadn't got hold of him yet was the fact, that the rest of the population here was keeping their mouth shut. Everyone who lived under the cruel heels of the "Gully Rats" only felt satisfaction at the thought that someone had beat them at their own game.
Over night, Boromir had turned into their secret hero. He received smiles from many a stranger that morning, but why, he couldn't fathom. The people treated him similarly to the townspeople of Minas Tirith, as if they knew him and were at the same time aware that he couldn't know them. Puzzled, he played along, smiling and greeting the people who seemed so eager to exchange a gesture or word with him.
.
In their hovercar, the policemen Grimes and Wirrell discussed the latest news, too. Fully aware, that the description of the "Mad Fencer" fit the 'Mr. Steward' they'd seen the day before exactly.
"So he actually does know how to use that sword." Wirrell mused. "It did strike me as odd how familiar he was with it, but I'd never have thought-"
"Do you really think it was him who attacked?" Grimes blurted out, interrupting him.
Wirrell laughed an unpleasant laugh. "No, but that's of minor importance, isn't it? The police down there is so corrupted, they'd say black was white if the "Gully Rats" told them to do so. Not that I blame the guys, you'd have to have a death wish to oppose that gang!"
"Or a good sword." Grimes smiled. "And there we were, believing him his story that he'd been mugged by the "Gully Rats". I bet not a shred of that story was true. According to the article, he killed four, knocked out two others and injured a total of seven gang members."
"Makes me glad he took a liking to us." Wirrell added. "I wonder what'd have happened if we hadn't believed his story. He might have tried to fight his way out of the hospital."
"And we'd have been the first to take down. Good thing we did believe him."
"Hey! Where's your sese of duty!" Wirrell chided him laughingly.
"Forgot it at home this morning, anyway, it's a good thing he's loose. Maybe he'll do what so many have tried and failed to do: Get rid of the "Gully Rats"."
"Maybe."
.
Sandy's school was abuzz with the news. All the students from first to ninth grade talked only of the "Man-who-won-a-street-fight-against-the- "GullyRats". Sandy already knew who that man was. The newspaper had in fact refrained from broadcasting Boromir's name, but the description matched him exactly.
Grinning broadly, Sandy announced everywhere, that she knew the man. She told everyone of her encounter with him at the hospital, but nobody believed her. As soon as she began telling the story with the orcs, everone turned away. Angrily, she suddenly shut up. 'They haven't seen him, or they'd believe me!' She thought. 'Mr. Boromir is a warrior!'
Her father, too, knew at once who the "Mad Fencer" in the newspaper article was. He had to admire the friendly man, who had been so kind to his little daughter and who only lately had received serious injuries, who had to fight against the "Gully Rats" as soon as he was outside the hospital again, and won!
Although he still didn't believe the story that 'Mr. Steward' had come from another world, he did begin to believe that the man was more than the actor he had thought him to be. Just then, there was a knock at his door. Boromir had finally remembered the card Mr. Foster had given him and shown it to an elderly woman, asking her to give him directions.
She at once offered to walk to Mr. Foster house with him and soon after they had arrived. Now he stood face to face with the friendly man, whose daughter had been the only one to believe his incredible story, and didn't know what to say.
Mr. Foster didn't mind, however, he pulled Boromir inside, invited the old woman in, who declined, but told Mr. Foster to make sure his guest stayed inside. Then Mr. Foster shut the door, made Boromir sit into one of the chairs of the kitchen, handed him a piece of toast and chuckled.
"You don't know you're in the papers, do you?" Mr. Foster. asked merrily. "The police is looking for you, the charge is murder. You're lucky they haven't found you yet."
"The papers? And murder?!?" Boromir asked, staring at his host, wide-eyed.
"Don't worry, the people know the police is corrupt and at the beck and call of the "Gully Rats", so they won't turn you in. But you'll have to keep a low profile, nevertheless."
"A low profile?"
"Yes, till grass has grown over the whole thing."
Although Boromir didn't know that expression either, he understood what it meant. He would have to stay hidden till the people looking for him grew tired of it and forgot the whole affair. Then he asked the question that he'd have to ask sooner or later.
"I don't have a place to stay at, at the moment, Mr. Foster. And if it wouldn't be too great an inconvenience, I'd be very grateful to you if I could stay here for a while."
"It wouldn't be any inconvenience at all. I've even got a small room you could have for yourself. As soon as you've eaten your breakfast, I'll show you."
Boromir thanked him gratefully and ate another three or four toasts spread with honey, before he helped clear the table and then followed Mr. Foster to the little room. All the while, he spotted queer objects whose use he couldn't determine. He didn't ask about them, however, but decided to wait till Sandy was home. She'd tell him without questioning his sanity and without asking him why he didn't know.