• II: part 3


    "Zac sighed wearily as he confronted his mother for the first time in nearly six years. And it was just as hard as he’d thought it would be. Swallowing the annoying knot forming in his throat, he plopped himself down in the grass.

    “Hey, mom,” he said weakly, his throat too constricted to talk efficiently. Memories of his mother’s face began flooding his mind at an overwhelming rate, and he feared that he’d lose it. Get a hold of yourself, Warrior.

    He took a slow, intended breath as he forced himself to stare at the nicely polished porcelain of his mother’s tombstone.

    In loving memory of Lena Child. May her soul be at peace in Heaven.

    Zac’s lip curled with derision. Heaven. What a load of bull.

    He clenched his teeth in an attempt to drive out all of his negative energy. The last thing Zac wanted was to taint his mother’s innocence, dead or not. “Sorry, it’s been so long. I just”—he locked his eyes on the grass in front of him—“I just needed to get out of this town.”

    He remained silent for a few minutes, savoring the calm around him. It was the first time in a while that he really felt at peace. “But I joined the military.” He laughed mockingly. “I bet you never would’ve expected that.”

    Zac’s eyes lingered on the fresh flowers at her grave. Her favorite species. Salaranian Lilies. They were rare, but no doubt it was his doing. Zac growled low in his throat. Stop being negative.

    He cleared his throat and continued with a shaky breath. “I’m a Warrior, actually. Not top grade, but a Warrior nonetheless.” He smiled vaguely. “I-I thought you’d be proud, despite what happened. Laden says I’m pretty popular here, which isn’t surprising I guess.”

    “Not one bit.”

    Zac froze. There was no mistaking that cold, stern voice. His teeth clenched. Great timing, Douche bag. He forced himself to look up at the man who dared call Zac his son. Balk—as ironic as his name is—wasn’t the worst stepfather a boy could have. Actually Zac had easily learned to love the man.

    “Where have you been, Zac?”

    “Where the hell were you, Zac? ”Balk yelled maniacally, clearly on the verge of hysteria.

    Zac’s body shook fiercely at the hands of his stepfather.

    “Come on, you worthless b*****d! Tell me! What the hell were you doing!” He hit Zac in the face so hard that Zac’s neck popped from the whiplash. “You sonofabitch,” Balk said slowly, disgustingly. “This is your fault.”

    Zac looked at the man with fearful eyes. He was utterly shocked as it was. So completely overwhelmed.

    “Get out! Get—out!”


    Zac ground his teeth at the memory. As harsh as it was, Balk was right. It was his fault. Forcing the recollection out of his mind, he stood slowly, forcing himself to confront the man who’d haunted his memories ever since that fateful day.

    Zack scoffed with condescension. “What do you care?”

    To his surprise, Balk said nothing. He only sighed. “Lora’s been asking about you.”
    Zac’s heart clenched. Although he’d been close to his half-sister, he’d forced himself to believe that she didn’t need him in her life. That she’d be better off without him. But that still didn’t squelch his guilt. He shrugged lamely and averted his gaze elsewhere.

    “I see,” Balk said. “Why are you here, then?”

    A tic worked in Zac’s jaw. Why did everyone have to remind him? “Thought it was time for a visit, I guess.” There was no missing the barb in his voice.

    “I’ve been keeping up with the news,” Balk said thoughtfully. A tone that Zac had forgotten Balk was capable of. “Both Lora and I have. You’re quite the Warrior from what I’ve
    heard.”

    Zac spared Balk a grateful glance before stubbornly averting his gaze again. “Yeah, I guess.” He flinched automatically as Balk began to approach him.

    The look of remorse on Balk’s face surprised Zac. “I—” Balk began, but stopped abruptly. Zac wanted to say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. “You know where the house is, right?”

    Zac nodded. “Yeah. I’m heading there now—”

    “Wait.”

    With a sigh, Zac halted and looked at Balk with an aggravated expression.

    “You know you’re welcome to my home anytime.”

    Zac couldn’t help but feel touched by his stepfather’s offer, but at the same time, the memory of their last confrontation wasn’t something to be easily forgotten. “Thanks,” he said impassively before turning around to leave.

    Dammit, Uric. Why the hell would you put me through this?



    Zac was pleasantly surprised by how well-kept the house was. After six years, it looked no different then the day he left. It was kind of a bitter-sweet occurrence.

    Weeks had gone by, and Zac had failed to hear anything from his Commander. He was becoming incredibly irritated and started wondering if Uric would ever call him back to active duty. Sure, he wasn’t fired, but suspended indefinitely wasn’t far from it.

    Luckily there was still a virtual in the house. Granted it was several years outdated, but it did the job. The last thing Zac wanted was to get out of shape or out of practice.

    That’s assuming that you go back to task.

    Sometimes, though, Laden would come over and they’d go spar down by the beach. Zac was actually really impressed by Laden’s skills, although he wasn’t quite up to par with Zac. They had just sparred earlier in the day, and Zac had to admit he was feeling a bit sore.

    He moaned as he laid himself in bed, his muscles burning under his skin. Damn you, Laden. Why’d you have to go and get tough? It was a good thing, though. Laden was a great sparring partner, and Zac was happy that he’d finally found something he’d really enjoyed.

    “So do you like being a Warrior,” Laden had asked.

    Zac couldn’t honestly answer that question. He liked being strong. And he liked having a goal to work toward. But he couldn’t honestly say that he enjoyed what he did.

    I’m a killer. No better than them.

    His lip curled at the thought of the Union force that invaded Taleasin all those years ago.
    Where the hell were you, Zac! You sonofabitch! This is your fault! Get out! Get—out!

    Zack winced at the memory. Why was it that every time he settled down to sleep those words echoed in his mind? Get over it. Life’s a b***h and then you die.

    The famous words of his father…