Knight Parade First Chapter

The Knight Parade

by

DH Mince

Chapter One:

This Ain't the First Time...

"Tim, I'm slipping. Tim, don't let go. I can't hang on!"

"I won't let you go, Mike. Hang on, I'll get you back up."

But the men in black cloaks are closing in on Tim as he tries with all his strength to keep Mike from falling over the edge, and his group of friends are now trapped. Mike knows that if he does not let go Tim will die, and so will he. Contemplating your own death is a very strange thing. Seeing it there right in front of you like so over-friendly a schnauzer. The thought of death terrifies Mike, crap yeah, but it is not as terrifying as he thought it would be. But that is neither here nor there, a decision has to be made and it needs to be made now.

"Don't let go Mike, I'll get you up," stammers Tim as he feels the men in black cloaks, those that want them dead, almost at his back now. Tim knows he is either going to pull Mike up or they are both dead. But Mike makes this particular decision very easy for Tim; Mike lets go.

Mike screams as he falls, but he is not sure why, it doesn't hurt. Maybe the impending splat that will end his days rushing toward him makes him scream. But not really; the fall is rather peaceful, strangely quiet.

"Crap" is the first word that comes to Mike's lips as he wakes from a troubled sleep. The dream again, the frequency is increasing now, three, maybe four times in the last week. Mike doesn't know what it means, but it means something, his dreams always seem to.

The clock screams 7:50 at Mike. "Crap school," Mike thinks to himself, "How long has my alarm been going off? No matter, time to go, no time to shower, again...."

Quickly, Mike rustles out of his well-blanketed bed and begins to go through some old clothes to find a blue-green shirt that doesn't smell too bad. "And the jeans from yesterday will work fine," he thinks to himself. He tries to comb his thick, medium length, brown hair into submission but it is not going to cooperate this morning so he opts for an orange bandana. He puts on an old ring his Grandmother gave him years ago. She claims it has the family crest on it, a flame encircled by a serpent, but Grandma can be kinda senile sometimes. Mike's wallet is not in his jeans where he usually leaves it so he surveys the mess of his room to try and locate it. Walking past his oak dresser with pictures of his friends and family on it, past his stereo which should have woke him this morning, and over to his desk he finally spots the elusive wallet. It, along with his keys, are behind a stack of CDs he was looking through last night. "Justin's Pixies CD, that's right, that's what I was looking for," and he remembers he never did find it. So he shoves his wallet into his pocket along with his keys, and finally, the piece de resistance: cologne, the lazy man's bath, and makes his way toward the door. As he leaves his room he grabs his Trigonometry book, homework that should have been done last night, and his Twentieth-Century US History book, which somehow did get done last night.

As he runs through the kitchen on his way to the driveway, Mike's mom yells at him to grab some breakfast. Mike yells back disgruntled, "No time, Mom".

Mike squints as he runs out into the bright morning sun. It is a beautiful, crisp, spring morning and the cool prairie breeze feels wonderful on his still drowsy face. The smell of the petunias his mother has planted in the front yard forces Mike to pause and take it all in. I guess this is what they mean by stopping and smelling the roses, well, petunias in this case. For a second, Mike almost forgets what he is doing but finally comes to and keeps moving.

Finally to the car. For a young man, his car is a very special thing: his friend, his solitude, his physiatrist. Now this car isn't much, a rusted out '82 blue Oldsmobile; they don't make them like that anymore, thank God. And this car is truly well-lived: about two weeks worth of McDonalds and Cherry Pepsi bottles litter the backseat, which is starting to emanate a slightly peculiar odor.

And of course, the music. The sound equipment in the trunk of the Olds, a fifteen inch speaker powered by a 600 watt amplifier, is worth far more than the rest of the car and it is Mike's pride and joy. It sounds good, real good, and whether it's Eminem or Remy Zero, it has the same darn affect. The engine starts with a roar this morning and the sweet smell of oil in the exhaust is undeniable. Mike's car sputters, or bumps with help from the speakers, depending on which sound is more apparent, out of the driveway. There is one more important ingredient that makes a young man's morning complete in his sanctuary and that is the morning cigarette. The first taste of nicotine of the day, there is absolutely nothing like it. As bad as it may be for you, the first smoke of the day is unlike any other. Now everything is in order-good car, good tunes, and good smoke-too bad school is going to ruin it. Oh well.

Mike's drive to school can be made in five minutes if need be, and as it also may be, it is the perfect amount of time for that smoke. Finishing the smoke and pulling into the school parking lot, Mike quickly takes a spot where he, and his friends, always park. Mike has been parking here since he got his license and now, as a senior, it is strange thinking he will not be parking here much longer. Mike has to smile when he realizes someone else is running late this morning too. Mike puts the rusty Olds into park as a red, two-door Pontiac pulls into a parking spot just down from Mike. Mike knows this car well, it is his friend Nick Castio. Nick, with his stocky frame and buzz-cut brown hair, slowly emerges from the car he has been driving for about six months now. You'd think he would take the warranty sticker out of the window, but that's Nick, just a little off.

"What's up, cheese-dick," Mike hollers as Nick gets out of his car.

"Not much. Running late, I see," Nick spouts as he grabs his bag out of his backseat.

"Wouldn't talk, numb nuts," Mike retorts as he waits for Nick at the south entrance to the school.

"So, you get that Trig done," Nick asks as he finally catches up with Mike.

"Heck no, sine, co-sine, what the frig? Did you get it done," Mike responds.

"What do you think," Nick asks. "Let's get to homeroom, I don't need another late one."

Mike and Nick make their way into the old high school building. The building is much the same as it has been these last forty years with beige bricks and dusty windows. Two-stories and three wings, with a fourth wing under construction, it houses the ninth through twelve grades for this small Kansas town as the young people go through the ordeal we call the mid to late teenage years. The rest of Mike's group of friends are already situated in homeroom, which also happens to house the band class.

"Everyone else is on time, no crap," Mike thinks to himself. This is surprising as Mike is usually the dependable, on time, one of the group. Mike and Nick quickly make a b-line for their seats in the back of the room which has the faint smell of smoke (thanks to the band director Mr. Gerke), spit, and drum oil. Greetings commence as they usually do with this particularly close group of young men.

"Well good morning ladies, so did you two enjoy your night together," spouts Pete. A very tan, well-muscled young man, Pete Aristle is quite the ladies man; he has that cute face with dark brown hair and eyes that goes a long way. Too bad he doesn't have the wits to back it up. But he likes to mouth off and is usually good for a laugh.

"Frig off, Pete," responds Mike slightly annoyed, "it's too early for your bullcrap."

"Oh, you love me and you know it," Pete answers rather arrogantly.

"How can I be mad at that face" Mike says shaking his head.

The rest of the gang is there too. Timmy, better know as Tim Nothe, is dressed, as usual, with blue jeans, a flannel shirt and a cap. But his light brown hair, blue eyes and six-foot, built frame adds to his rugged good looks that the ladies like.

Next to Tim is Justin Scranson, or el capitan. Justin is almost six-two, a little over two hundred and twenty pounds, with already thinning blond hair and blue eyes, can anyone say Aryan race? In a way, Justin is the unspoken leader of the group. He has a slight attitude problem that most people cannot understand or tolerate, except his close friends. But Justin loves his friends, his boys, and would die for any one of them. He has some money, more than the rest of the boys, and dresses fairly well, kind of the preppy, suburban gear.

In the row above Justin is Alex. His fair complexion and light colored hair make him stick out in a crowd. Alex Potts is a scrawny kid of almost six-three, and maybe a buck-fifty soaking wet, lanky and awkward he has trouble fitting in. It doesn't help that Alex is the odd ball of the group, he is shy and stoic, one of those people that you can never really tell exactly what they are thinking. But they always seem to be laughing at you somehow.

And finally, Paul rounds out the group. Paul Delante is six-foot even, about one hundred and eighty pounds and pretty much all muscle. His black hair and grey eyes add to his good looks. Paul is the most athletic of the group, not that any of them are out of shape, but Paul makes it a point to run and workout regularly, almost to a fault sometimes. Mike sits next to Justin and kiddy-corner above Nick as he tries to catch on to the last of the conversation before they head out to first period History.

"History, what a great way to start the day-lots of dates and dead people," Mike thinks to himself. The bell rings, releasing them from their temporary confinement.

The group of young men make their way out of the band room and into the hall. They walk toward the main part of the high school and Pete continues his ramblings as the group walks.

"Brittney is so hot, Alex. You know she wants it, why don't you ask her out?" Pete is not one to hold back his personal thoughts, or comments on any given topic, but at least you always know where you stand with him.

"Shut the frig up, Pete, she's a good kid. And why is it that you think every girl 'wants it?'" Mike cuts in sharply defending Alex as he finds himself doing often.

Pete explains, "Hey, they all do want it just like us. They're just better at hiding it."

"Whatever gets you through the day Pete," Mike comes back with condescendingly, "but seriously Alex, Brittney is a good kid you should ask her out. She was talking to Claire about you."

"Yeah Mikey, what's up with you and Claire anyway, man," Justin can't help but cut in with.

Slightly embarrassed and pissed off Mike responds, "She's cool crap, but I think asking her out right now may be a mistake."

"You don't know unless you try man. What have you got to lose? Carpe diem mother friger." Justin wisely concludes. He likes to use big words whenever he can as he doesn't know too many you see.

"True dat, el capitan , true dat, we'll see..." Mike replies contemplatively.

Paul jokes, "Ahh, you're just a pussy."

"That may be. Hey Paul, you want to give it to me," Mike asks laughing.

"You're pretty cute, maybe..." Paul replies as he ponders Mike's proposition.

With that Mike realizes he has been outdone and comes back with all he can, "Frig off man."

They make their way to the first major corner of traffic in the school where two of the wings meet and Mike, Paul and Nick turn from the rest of the crew to make their way to History. They say their farewells with plans to meet for lunch per usual. As Mike turns down the hall, he knows it is going to be a bad day. He isn't sure why, but he is seldom wrong. If he only knew.

History class drags by with Mr. Forst droning on about Teddy Roosevelt and the Rough Riders, hey Rough Riders, that's kinda funny, anyway. On his way to second period, Mike is in quite a daze as he usually is after first period. History has a strange way of putting people into unfortunate dazes. But Mike is rudely awakened with an abrupt thrust to the ground.

Mike's assaulter is a young man by the name of Ryan Phillips, and what a pain in the ass this kid is. Standing well over six feet and almost two hundred and fifty pounds with dirty blond hair and auburn eyes, Ryan is a large, muscled dunderhead. He is a very unfriendly sort to most everyone, but for some reason in particular, he has a special hatred for Mike. The two have butted heads many times before, but it is unlike Ryan to be this overtly aggressive in school.

Now Ryan's aggression can be linked back to his family and the way he was raised. You see, Ryan's father is the leader of a group called the Homage. The Homage group is sort of like an extreme Amish group. They do not believe in "technology" and dress in what they considered "humble" clothing: homemade clothes that are brown or grey, not flashy colors. But when I said extreme Amish I meant it, they are very militant and closed off. They live on an isolated farming compound about twenty miles from town in the middle of nowhere. They claim to be completely self-sufficient, growing their own food, providing their own clothing and refusing to use technology or machines. But they have two very interesting flaws in their manifesto. First, they enroll ther children in the local school system. They claim they do this so their children can keep track of what is going on in the outside world and prepare them for it. But their children have access to computers and other technology while in public schools, so many view the group as very hypocritical. You can also probably imagine the isolating affect that this lifestyle has on the Homage children. Kids like Ryan are usually isolated and made fun of.

Second, some people in town have heard rumors of computer equipment being delivered to the compound-state of the art stuff too-which most assume is being used for their farming operation. There is another rumor that they had cable lines installed for the compound almost a year ago. But the group members continue to use horse drawn plows and harvest by hand, rather strange. The group is also extremely militant, with, now this is just rumor, a rather large weapons stock pile, various assault weapons, and the like.

They also train their children to fight, boys and girls, which is evident from our current encounter with Ryan. Mike has heard rumors from the Homage kids that they are trained in hand-to-hand combat, gun use, bow and crossbow, and also sword play. Now again, these are rumors. But how weird is it training your kid to use a sword?

Anyhow, the group is extremely antigovernment and believes in these weird ideas of reverting to the old ways where the mighty should rule. But most just see them as a hypocritical, radical group that are more of a nuisance than any sort of major threat. Now after that little tangent of background information, back to Mike and Ryan.

"You'll get yours, witch," is all Ryan has to say for himself as Mike lays on his back close to the lockers that line the hallway. Mike is stunned for a moment and sits up gasping for air and reaching out with his arms as if he could catch the air and bring it back into his lungs. Ryan is smiling proudly to himself standing over Mike as Mike starts to stand up and get his bearings straight. But this is where it pays to have friends, loyal friends. Before Ryan turns around, Paul has him by the arm and turns him hard into the lockers. Unfortunately for Paul, Ryan is bigger, stronger and knows slightly more about fighting then Paul does. As the surprise of being face-planted into the lockers wears off, Ryan uses his size to his advantage and reverses quickly on Paul, spinning around and sending Paul even harder into the lockers. Paul is not stunned for long though, and as blood starts to trickle out of his nose he comes around hard with his right fist. Ryan sees this coming and easily sidesteps the blow, simultaneously placing a blow of his own into Paul's exposed back. Fights have a funny way of attracting a crowd fast and a rather large group has formed around the two. The fight also attracts the unwanted attention of authority figures. Mike notices that Mr. Olsen is quick into the hall and acts as fast as he can. Mike grabs Paul to get him out of yet another afternoon in detention. The introduction of Mr. Olsen to his party has also diverted Ryan's attention away from Mike and Paul to Mr. Olsen.

Mike quickly seizes his change and forcefully grabs Paul by the shoulder and whispers, "There will be another time and another place for this crap. Let's get the heck out of here." Paul reluctantly listens and the two slip out of the crowd as Mr. Olsen yells for answers.

The morning goes by as most mornings at school do, the same ins and outs of teenage life. Creeping through classes hoping you see that special someone between second and third period. As Mike, Paul and Nick make their way to the next major intersections of hallways, Paul and Nick say their farewells and make their way to Literature. Pete and Alex then join up with Mike on their way to Biology.

Today Mike is lucky enough to see his special someone. Claire usually makes her way down the same hall as Mike on her way to German class. Yes, Mike knows her schedule and no, he is not a stalker. Seriously, what teenage boy doesn't know his crush's schedule? Anyway, Mike notices her immediately as she makes her way down the hall with her amazing, flowing, dark-brown hair and sparking brown eyes. She is walking with Brittney and Megan, her two most faithful companions. As Mike is trying to muster up the courage to say hi he thinks to himself, "This really doesn't need to be this darn hard, we have been friends for years. What is my deal?" But Pete breaks the ice for him.

"Well hecko ladies, looking quite stunning as usual," Pete says with all the suave he can muster.

Claire's friend Megan replies slightly annoyed, "Pete you are a walking hard-on, aren't you? But smooth I must say, smooth."

Pete and Megan hooked up after a dance a couple of months ago, I mean really hooked up. Anyway, they never talked about it afterwards and never dated or anything, which Mike thought was strange. They are both kinda slutty and have the same basic temperament. Plus, they usually get along really well, but anyway, I digress.

"Should we leave you two alone for awhile?" Mikes says brashly to Pete and Megan, which amazingly does not prompt an immediate response from either of them; they just kind of look at each other funny.

"Well, anyway, how are things going Claire? Haven't seen you for awhile," Mike asks as he awkwardly looks to change the subject.

Claire looks at Mike with a big smile, turns just a little red and answers, "Yeah, dance line keeping me really frigin' busy, too busy. Wish I could cut something, but my darn parents push so hard on athletics and competition, it's driving me frigin' nuts."

Mike thinks to himself, "Darn I love this girl, mouth like a sailor, but I love her." Instead of divulging his innermost secrets, Mike simply says, "That sucks. You know, you're only young once, you really should chill out."

"Yeah, tell my parents that, will ya? But hey, are you OK, I heard about your little run in with Mr. Phillips?" Claire asks with a very concerned look on her face. For a minute Mike swears she is going reach out to touch his shoulder but she holds back.

With disappointment in his voice, he tries to play as tough as he can and answers, "No big deal. That kid is just a darn oversized jackass, he fights like a girl anyway."

Claire shifts her books in her hands and flicks her hair back over her shoulder responding, "Really, fights like a girl? What exactly are you saying there Mikey?"

"Frig!" Mike thinks to himself, I really want to impress this girl and I just made fun of the way girls fight, she is going to kick my ass... "Oh, sorry I didn't mean..." Mike says trying to cover his ass the best he can.

"Mike, it's OK, I'm just friging with you. Maybe I'll just have to show you how a girl fights sometime," Claire answers with the most flirtatious voice Mike has ever heard from her. Pete and Alex can't believe their ears and stare at Mike. Brittney and Megan can't believe their ears either and stare at Claire. With that Claire realizes she has gone too far and tries to cover herself.

Mike thinks to himself, "Crap, did she just say what I think she said. That is the coolest friging thing ever." But his thoughts are interrupted by Claire.

"So, yeah, hey how is your mom, feeling better I hope?" Claire asks whipping the smile off her face and looking seriously at Mike.

Mike's mother had fallen about a month ago and seriously sprained her ankle. She was laid up for awhile and Claire was nice enough to send a card and flowers to Mike's mom. That was Claire, she may have a pretty tough exterior but she cared deeply for those close to her. She was a very thoughtful person, and above anything else that is what drew Mike to her. I mean yeah it helps she's hot but that can only go so far, ya know?

Mike, quickly coming down from his fantasy high, answers, "Yeah she is doing much better, and thanks for the flowers, mom loved them."

Claire says smiling, and turning a little red with embarrassment, "Good I am glad she liked them. Hey, we should all do movie night on Saturday. I want to check out that new Will Smith movie."

Mike does his best to hide his excitement at this prospect and mumbles, "Hey yeah, sounds great, if you don't get forced into trying out for the Olympics first or whatever."

Claire laughs a little more than she really should "Yeah no crap. Anyway, gonna be late to class. Nice to see you boys, and I guess you too Pete."

The girls make their way down the hall and as Brittney walks by she squeaks out a quick, "See ya, Alex."

"Yeah, see ya around Brittney." Alex responds in a soft, surprised voice and looking like he just might explode and something in his pants almost did. Sorry, man that's gross, you probably don't need to know about that, frig.

"Are ya a complete pussy Alex? The girl is interested, just ask her out for frig's sakes." Pete inappropriately blurts out after the girls are out of ear shot.

"Dude! I will, crap, keep it down man." Alex turns red with embarrassment and looks down at his feet.

Mike just has to smile. Not that he is any better; he desperately wants to ask Claire out but is afraid it might complicate things with their friendship. But Mike knows that is a complete frigin' lie; he is scared she will say no and then he will never get to hang out with her again. That is really all there is too it, and if you, or anyone you know, has ever said that "they don't want to complicate the friendship" thing, they are lying and scared. Get over it, grow some darn balls and get to it. Sorry, I rant from time to time, my apologies. So where were we? Oh, yeah.

Third period Trig passes as usual for Mike and the boys, and now it is time to head out for lunch. The gang splits up with Justin and Mike in Justin's car, Pete and Paul in Pete's truck, and Tim, Alex, and Nick in Tim's truck. As per their usual routine they meet up at a particular eatery, usually Mickey D's or pizza, whichever has the best deal for the teenage buck. Today it is Mickey D's: two burgers for a buck. You can't beat that with a stick, well you could, but it might frig up the burgers.

The gang eats as they usually do with the same verbal harassment that defines the male relationship.

As they sit down Pete wastes no time in blurting out, "Guys, man, Claire told Mike she wanted to wrestle."

Justin almost spits his soda out of his mouth and asks surprised, "No frigin' crap, Mikey my boy, so you two gonna wrestle or what?"

Alex jumps on the "lets frig with Mikey band wagon" and interjects, "I don't know boys, the look on her face, I thought she was gonna jump ya right there Mickey."

Mike, red with embarrassment, tries to keep his voice down and says, "Frig, she did not say she wanted to wrestle, she said she would show me how a girl fights."

Paul, rolling with laughter and tears running down his face responds, "Boys, our little Mikey is becoming a man, I am so proud." And with that a general roar of laughter erupts from the young men, which draws looks from the rest of the patrons of the restaurant. The boys continue to give Mike heck about Claire and finish out their lunch hour each in a particularly good mood.

But what makes this lunch different from the rest is what happens on the way back from lunch. Justin actually has the radio on, which is strange because Justin defines himself by his tunes. If the CD player isn't blaring with the support of two, twelve-inch subwoofers there is something seriously wrong.

This occurs to Mike insignificantly as he rides shotgun in Justin's Mustang. Now again, this may seem odd, but Justin has money, not a lot, but enough. You see, his old man died early and left a substantial amount to him. But what price can you put on growing up without your old man around, but that is a different story for a different day. Oh, back to the radio, before that tangent caught me off guard.

During a very killer Smashing Pumpkins song, news breaks in with a very interesting announcement. "This just in, there has been a major shutdown in computer programming software in the last fifteen minutes. Reports are coming in that a very serious virus has been uploaded to the internet and does not seem to be slowed by any firewall or antivirus programs in place. Major computer systems are experiencing a great amount of difficulty. Sources are saying that at this rate, all major networks and many minor ones will be infected and shut down within the hour. The President plans to hold a press conference at two PM eastern time to address the situation." States the reporter with a very evident tone of distress in his voice

"Holy crap, that's serious," Mike worries as the voice on the radio subsides.

Justin answers just as concerned. "You're not kidding man. Let's stop by my place and see if I've still got a net connection."

"Alright, but make it quick. We need to get to fourth period..."

"You're too much of a goody-two-shoes sometimes, cheese dick," Justin interrupts.

"Eat me, el capitan," was all Mike could offer as a low chuckle escapes his lips.

Flying into Justin's driveway, the two run into the house and Justin sits down at his new IBM. Did I mention Justin has money? Anyway.... Justin's net connection is still active but every page he tries to connect to gives the "could not find" error. Justin picks up the phone to call his mom at work, but that is dead too.

Justin roars out, "Frig! It rang a couple of times and then I lost the line."

"Come on, man, we need to get back to class," Mike says as he worriedly looks at the clock.

Justin also turns his head to look at the clock and says with frustration, "Crap, you're right. Let's roll."