The Walker

14 years ago…

The boy watched impassively as Walker addressed his followers, remembering his words earlier.

“Keep calm, stay quiet, and pay attention.”

They had headed into the city, to a bar. The boy had been amazed by the lights, the machines; the sheer volume of people. Walker had headed to a place owned by a man named Charlie, whom the boy disliked.

Charlie was too smiley, wide face set in a permanent idiot’s grin. His skin was waxy, and his eyes shone too brightly, little flashes of blue behind darkened glasses. Walker had told him what the ‘man’ was, and the boy distrusted ‘him’ entirely.

Charlie stood away from the group of Walkers watching, bright sugary drink in hand.

“We are at risk, my friends. Mother is sending the Order after us, trying to stop our mission.”

There were murmurs from the crowd, as Walker continued. “We Walkers are now outlaws, and we are in danger. We have to tread lightly, and take care.”

A woman in the group stood up. She had dyed green hair, almost entirely hidden beneath an old style bowler hat, and she wore an old waistcoat under her russet hued duster. As she stood, she leaned on a large rifle, heavy looking, with a scope that glittered emerald whenever it moved. She was a sniper, the boy noted, but despite her weapon being almost as tall as she was, she held it with a strange fondness, her movements spoke of fluidity; strong and fixed, but nevertheless graceful.

“So, Walker, what are we going to do?” she gestured to the gathering around her. “This is all of us; we can’t start fighting back. We’re out here, being hunted like animals. Maybe it’s time to stop this shit, end what we’re doing!”

There were some sounds of agreement from those around her. Walker held up a placating hand, but the woman didn’t sit. The boy ground his teeth.

“Ivy, be calm. We cannot fight them, true. But we must carry on our mission. Father would have wanted it. He would have demanded it. The Order has betrayed his teachings, and Mother leads them to folly, and ruin. Our goal is to finish what Father started; to gather knowledge, to keep it safe from the vulgar people who would waste the gift.”

The woman known as Ivy shook her head and retracted her slim, pale green visor. Her deep blue eyes stared quizzically up at Walker. “And so what? What does this mean? We can’t stay in the cities anymore. Not here, especially. Didn’t you hear? Michael is here. Looking for us.”

There was a moment of stillness; the boy noticed Walker’s jaw muscles tensing. “Michael...” he began, “Is a problem. You’re right. We can’t stay in the cities. Especially not here.” He sighed and rubbed at his chin.

“We have to separate, scatter around the country. Do what we can until such a time as we can take the Order back.”

Ivy opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a deep voice from the back of the room.

“Why wait, Walker? Could we not take Mother by force?”

A huge bear of a man rose to his feet ponderously. His teeth shone brightly from between dark lips, his eyes hidden behind a softly gleaming visor. He had no hat, and his hair was swept back in knots, running down his back. His coat was heavy looking and dark.

Ivy turned to him incredulously. “By force? Look at us Idris! There must be thirty walkers in this room, and that’s all of us. No one else from our cohort will join us, and the new recruits are already being trained to hunt us down!”

Idris looked solemnly first at her, then Walker. “Walker, I say we go for Mother. Small groups can operate secretly, under cover. There’s no way we could storm the Order head on. This is true. A small team though, four or so of us, the best of us, we could sneak in, take her out. Re-establish the Order’s true purpose.”

He stood, watching Walker carefully. Walker rubbed his chin again, a habit he had picked up from the boy, and thought. He reached into his cloak and withdrew his tobacco pouch, slowly rolling himself a cigarette.

“Where is Mother, Idris? No one has seen her since we left the academy, when we became walkers. No one knows where she went, who is guarding her,” he smiled wanly, “Unless you’ve developed psychic powers overnight.”

There was a chuckle from the crowd, as Idris looked coolly back at him. “Looks like the Walker is afraid. When did you lose your courage, man?”

That was too much; the boy started forward. “You mind your tongue, bastard!” He reached Walker’s side, but was stopped by his outstretched arm.

Idris laughed, his voice cannoning around the room. The boy could feel it reverberate in his chest. “Look, the great Walker has children fighting for him now. Hey,” he chuckled, looking around the room, “Perhaps we should have this young pup lead us? He’s certainly got the fire for it!”

“Put it away, boy.” Walker murmured quietly. “Let me deal with this.” To Idris he said, “You would lead the Walkers then, Idris? Into the jaws of hell and back? Overthrow Mother and bring about a new golden age for the Order?

“And why now? Why would it make sense for us to rise up and fight Mother now, rather than before, or later? Surely it would have been obvious to any of us when, if ever, it would have been a good idea to attack?” He chuckled slightly, and Idris’ hands clenched into fists. Walker continued. “Hands up, those amongst you who would gladly follow this man?”

The group remained still, and silent. Ivy was still standing, watching the exchange between the two men.

“What makes you so special?” Idris growled.

Walker laughed again, “Come now, Idris. We’re all friends here.” He began to make his way through the group towards Idris. When he reached him, he stood there, looking up. The man was easily a foot and a half taller than Walker, and he towered darkly above him. The boy kept his pistol ready, just to be sure.

Walker spoke to the man, so quietly that no one could hear. The boy watched, aware, waiting for him the attack, but Idris just stood there. He turned his head away, and spoke.

“No.”

He turned from Walker and stormed out of the room, flinging a chair from his path. As the door slammed behind him, Walker spoke to the group.

“Idris has gone for some fresh air.”

He made his way back to the front of the room and turned back to the group. “Despite what some of you think, killing Mother would not help our cause. In fact, if Mother were violently removed, the current cohorts would rise up, led by our old associates, and wipe us out. For now,” he took a drag on his cigarette, “We are relatively safe. I know we’re being hunted, but only for our books.”

He turned to Ivy, “Not like animals. They do not wish to harm us. We were all brothers and sisters in arms. We must think about this. Rash action, like our friend suggests, would only lead to our downfall.”

He flicked his cigarette away, and indicated to Ivy. “Ivy, you can lead as many of us as will follow you North, or even across the sea, to the old lands. What will greet you there, I couldn’t say. You can carry on our teachings. Find somewhere to re-establish our way. The rest of you, scatter. Carry on our goals; gather knowledge, protect it. Share it amongst yourselves. When the time is right, when Mother is gone, we can go back. Make things right. That’s all.”

Ivy nodded and sat down, speaking quietly with a larger woman sat next to her. The group began to talk amongst themselves, as Walker turned away. Charlie made his way over, carefully picking his way through the heavily armed gathering.

“Well, Walker. That was certainly somethin’. So that’s it, you lot are splittin’ up? Scatterin’ to the four corners of the Earth, never to be heard from again?” He sipped at his drink, “Think that fella had a point, mind. You can’t go runnin’ away, tail between your legs forever.” He laughed.

Walker turned to him, “Enough Charlie, we’re not running. We’re being careful.”

Charlie nodded as he sipped again, “Fair enough, fair enough. You gonna be needing anything mate?”

Walker shook his head, and motioned to the boy.

“Ah,” Charlie said, eyes flashing, “Your protégé. I’ve heard about you, son,” He said to the boy, “The lad with no name. “He chuckled nastily.

“Charlie. Enough. I’ll speak to you later. Boy, come here.”

Charlie winked again, and waved jovially at them as he left. The boy padded to Walker’s side, glaring at the retreating figure of the bald little man.

“I don’t like him. I can’t read him properly.”

Walker nodded. “He can be a bit showy, but that’s his nature, for want of a better word. As to why you can’t read him, well, it’s important to remember that it’s a person’s emotions that make them readable, but never mind that for now. Boy, a question for you; what happened here?”

The boy thought, rubbing his chin. “The Walkers challenged you. That woman, Ivy, started it, and Idris made it worse. But you turned it around. What did you say to him?”

Walker waved a hand as he rummaged in his satchel. “Unimportant, boy. What did you learn?”

“Learn? The boy asked, uncertainly.

“Yes,” Walker replied slowly. “Learn. What did you take from this?”

The boy scratched his chin again. “Well. That the best way to deal with aggression, especially from those that should obey you, is to call them out. Make them smaller.”

Walker glanced up at him, “Not entirely wrong, boy, but not quite right either. Remember our fight, in the farm? You attacked with all your strengths, and aggression, and still you failed. This was a similar occasion. Idris is... a good philosopher. Strong, quick, clever. But not clever enough.”

He straightened up. “What I did was find his weakness. I didn’t rise to his attack, but weakened it through my disregard of it. It’s about adapting to the situation. If I had taken his offer for a fight, I’d have been beaten. Or worse.” He shouldered his pack. “Do you understand?”

The boy hesitated, but nodded, “I think so. When you can’t win by fighting, you win by being clever.”

Walker nodded. “Now, boy, go to the bar. Here,” he flicked a dull pound coin to him, “And buy us both a whiskey. I need a drink. But I have some matters to attend to first. Just remember the lessons from today. I’ll see you in a moment.”

He headed back down the room, towards the waiting Walkers. Some of them rose to him immediately, clasping his gauntleted hand and talking in low voices.

The boy watched for a short while, and then headed into the bar to await his master.