Chapter 21 Battles of Thought
The battles of thought have never been kind
Rational convictions can be a hate so blind
But powerful they are, the alliances of minds
Emmett was holding his breath as he followed the mysterious figure trying his hardest not to make any noise. This task was becoming rather difficult because the man wouldn’t stop. He walked tirelessly through the streets, holding up his lamp and throwing shady corners and allies into its meager light. But the light didn’t seem to all be coming from the lamp. The strange cloak seemed to shimmer eerily like a moon and his half-concealed face had its own half-glow that Emmett was sure must be the fault of his own tired brain.
His new mission to follow this strange person almost distracted him from the events of the past few hours and the fact that he had almost fled from his own home because he didn’t want to face Jeremiah. Almost. Still fresh in his mind was the determination to do something and with each step he took he began to think that he may already be well on his way to doing it. The first time the figure stopped it was because of a sudden shrill scream that came from a dark alley to the left. He paused only for a few moments and then almost flew towards the noise so fast that Emmett almost lost him.
He was so fast, in fact, that Emmett almost thought he had managed to light his cloak on fire like a silly cartoon. But when he followed the fiery figure Emmett realized that it couldn’t be real fire (obviously) because it only burned at the ends of his cloak and the man didn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. The three hooded figures did notice this strange sight and fled, leaving the man to help the frightened girl up and offer to walk her home. The cloak settled back into its white shimmering color and Emmett raised a disbelieving eyebrow but kept following. It was, after all, difficult to actually disbelieve your own eyes.
There was not much incident except that Emmett noticed some people smile thankfully at the cloaked man or nod their heads in greeting. Not until they reached the library that is. After the recent attack on the hospital and other establishments Emmett wasn’t too surprised. He was pleasantly surprised, though, to see the cloaked man’s reaction.
He really was like a flame and not only because of the strange property of his clothes. He moved quickly and was rather agile, carrying children out of the burning place, sneaking them off the premises without attracting the attention of the black-clad masked men who were wreaking havoc and attacking anyone they caught coming out.
Emmett kept his eyes trained to the small fiery figure and began to doubt his own sanity. With every jump or sudden movement the illusion of flames would suddenly turn into a blazing fire. Soon however, the masked men noticed him as well (the cloak didn’t exactly help with the sneaking aspect) and although they were rather afraid they succeeded in dealing him a few well-aimed blows before clearing the place with manic laughs. Emmett was paying attention to the man who was sprawled on the floor, bloody-jaw and cloak settling into white so he didn’t notice them walk away. So this flame-man, the “Lamplighter” as rumor called him was human, not some bloody cartoon, and he wasn’t exactly the picture of strength either. He looked rather thin and Emmett was sure someone skilled in some sort of martial art would probably not have got so bloodied up so easily.
He stood up and continued helping people out, making trips in and out of the library until even the firemen stopped and began to leave.
Emmett followed him down streets and alleys and noticed that the lamp was still held up boldly and almost defiantly against the darkness. They finally reached an old long-deserted house near the outskirts of the city and the cloaked man went in. Emmett only hesitated for a moment as he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and quickly wrote his address on it. Of course the man would want to rest now, but he was sure he now had an ally he needed to speak with.
The room inside was the exact opposite of the dark deserted exterior. Emmett watched from down the hall as the cloaked man walked in and plopped himself on one of the armchairs near a warm-looking fire. The walls of the room were a whirl of color and distressing designs and patterns and there were a lot of books and other odds and ends scattered about the room. There were also three other people in the room and none of them seemed to notice him so Emmett decided to wait and see the man’s face before approaching him.
“Leave that, Hannah!” he suddenly spoke and Emmett watched as he heaved himself off the armchair and gently shooed a young woman away from the table where she appeared to be busy making sandwiches. “You feeling better?”
“Yes, yes,” she assured him, “I’m perfectly fine now!” But when he wouldn’t give up control of the food-making she plopped herself on a small mattress right in front of the fire and promptly fell asleep. The tall gorgeous woman who was draped on the other armchair got up and placed a sleeping girl on another mattress before covering them both.
“Now they’re asleep, I guess we’ll just eat and let them wake on their own.”
“No, we’ve already eaten; Hannah was making those for you.”
“Well, you could use something to make up for the last couple of days, come on, Malaika, there’s too much here for me to eat on my own.”
There was short silence in which both Malaika and the boy took sandwiches and began to eat. Emmett was having trouble concentrating on the still-cloaked man and discovering his identity because he kept getting distracted by the elegant woman who was apparently called Malaika. There was something familiar about her, but he was sure he hadn’t seen anyone near this beautiful before.
“Why do you pronounce it like that - my name?”
The man laughed, “It means angels!” Emmett looked back at him and froze in shocked horror. This cloaked figure he had been following for hours now, feeling a sense of understanding for and looking up to to solve his current problem was none other than the teenage terrorist who had killed his entire neighborhood in the first of the strange attacks on Cambridge. He shook his head in disbelief and then turned to leave the room but a shout stopped him and he was pulled roughly around to face the boy.
“Who are you and why are you here?” the tone was angry but the boy’s face was not frightening in the least.
“I followed you when I saw…never mind…I’ve made a mistake, you know- got the wrong person.”
The boy’s face darkened at this stuttering admission and his hold on Emmett’s shoulder loosened. He suddenly dropped his glare and strode back into the room yelling “Bloody fine!” and kicking at a chair before turning back around and fixing Emmett with an unwavering gaze.
“We’ll all be gone by the time you get to your precious police and they have the bloody sense to listen so don’t bother, Mr. wannabe detective. And if you so much as lift a finger to one of these girls; or if anyone does, then I’m going to track you down and show you-”
“Mat, don’t!” Malaika interrupted, “We’re not leaving and you know as well as I that none of us would let them take an innocent man to prison.”
“Prison?!” Mat seemed to be rather hysterical now and Emmett was almost sure, except for the strange actions when he had the cloak on, that this man was very dangerous, “There is no bloody prison, Malaika, I’ll be killed before they’ve even seen my blasted face close enough to make sure I’m the right person and I’m not letting any of you get hurt in the process.”
Emmett’s mind had seized the opportunity of their little dialogue about how lovely the justice system was these days to do some quick thinking. Not only did he not want to give up that small hope he had been operating on all evening, the hope that this was an ally that could help him where Jeremiah had refused to, he also decided that the girls shouldn’t get hurt and that running would be cowardly. So all he had to really do was go along with his plan as if the man wasn’t a ruthless killer whose picture was all over the city and when he got him in his apartment he would have to be prepared to act quickly.
“Hey, now, listen!” he interrupted, “I have absolutely no desire to be a detective and I happen to have been following you in hopes of having a few words, but seeing the lady here, whom I faintly recognize surprised me a little and I didn’t want to intrude… I need your help.”
Emmett gulped at the admission, which would have been difficult even if he was addressing someone very close to him, before continuing, “So, here’s my address and I would very much like for you to come and have a few words.”
The boy looked taken aback and just took the paper that was being held out to him without a word. Emmett wondered how they had both reached the doorway when only a second ago he had been in the middle of the hall and the boy had been kicking chairs in the room. He shook his head at the irritating conversation, which he knew he would never be proud of remembering then turned and left.
… …
Malaika, sick of watching Mahmoud’s fit of indecision, busied herself with a bit of cleaning. Hannah was still asleep, but Malaika had made the boy promise not to take a step out of the room until he could consult her, she only hoped the girl would be able to convince him.
Finished with wiping the table, she turned around to find a pen and paper with which to finish her emergency hospital plan (they were going to take proposals in tomorrow). Malaika jumped back a little and silently admonished herself for being almost as bigoted as the Mr. Detective. She was slowly getting used to the differences in the boy’s lifestyle. He was as much a typical Englishman as you could imagine most of the time, but at certain times of the day he would leave everything in his hands to go and pray and he often liked to read from his book as he sat before the fire.
That part she rather liked because it made Millie happy and often helped her sleep after a nightmare and, she admitted rather reluctantly, it also made her heart a little calmer when she was becoming grim and angry. She stood watching him for a while as he prayed and wondered if this was what made him unable to refuse a plea for help. Surely, though, he wouldn’t throw himself into a trap. Because Malaika had no doubt that their Mr. Detective was up to no good and meant to get him alone to turn him in. Of course you couldn’t blame people for believing suspicions aired so much in the media, but if he’d been following him for more than five minutes then he should have had the bloody sense to look past that and see that this boy was anything but a killer.
He finished praying just as she had abandoned her thoughts and finished unfolding the peice of paper that held her plan. “I’m going, you know, even Hannah can’t convince me not to.”
“Look, not everything is your bloody responsibility and that git didn’t even say what he wanted to talk to you about. It sounded like a lie to me. And if he turns you in then you won’t be able to help any more people.”
“I don’t think he will…”
“Well he was right about recognizing me; I’ve seen the bloody prick around the hospital before; stuck up pompous arse of a medicine student. I’m telling you, the man’s racist, even if he was telling the truth, he followed you and he’d clearly been watching us for a while, up until he saw your face…”
“Not everyone’s a racist, Malaika, besides if he’s a medical student that means he helps people.”
Malaika gritted her teeth: “Oh, is that why you were kicking the furniture around a few minutes ago then?”
“What are you two arguing about?” Hannah’s groggy voice interrupted.
“Someone wants to meet me to talk, said he needed my help,” Mahmoud explained, “I think he was following me around for a good while before I came…home, and Malaika thinks he’s a racist prick who’s going to turn me in.”
“Well, what do you want to do?”
“He wants to bloody go, of course!” Mahmoud nodded silently.
“Well, you’re not going without me and if he is trying to turn you in we’ll show him a thing or two.”
“Not if the police are waiting there for us and won’t hear a word of what we say!” Malaika was almost screaming in frustration now.
“Oh good, you’re coming too then.”
Malaika glared angrily at the girl who was handing her one of the freaky cloaks with a small smile. She had hoped the stubborn girl would be on her side. Taking the cloak without a word she put it on and watched Hannah pick up Millie. Mahmoud was going to take her sleeping form in his own arms, but then she stirred and insisted on walking by herself.
Hannah and Millie walked ahead cheerfully as if they were going on a bloody adventure to Oz and Malaika stared at the other girl’s back disgustedly before she noticed that Mahmoud was holding the door for her, his eyes lowered to the ground respectfully. It was things like this that made her think she needed to change her rather negative opinions of either men in general or religion in general.
“Mahmoud?” she began, her eyes fixed on Hannah.
“Hmmmm?”
“If, well, say you...” she couldn’t really bring herself to use the word ‘love’, “Wanted to marry someone like Hannah…”
She paused and looked to his ducked head before continuing, “Would you make her be like you, follow your beliefs I mean or… wear certain things?”
The boy looked up, apparently relieved that the question wasn’t really about him and Hannah, but more about religion. “No of course not,” he stopped walking and looked her in the eye very seriously, “You see, first of all if I did that I’d be a bloody oppressor which is obviously not allowed in religion. It’s something you do for yourself to preserve your respect…you know, so people don’t look at you like ummm…like they’d look at the girls in magazines and on television. It’s got nothing to do with me, people make their own decisions out of love for God, you know. I mean I wasn’t even religious myself a few weeks ago, didn’t really want anything to do with it, no matter how much…my parents tried. And second of all, if I wanted to marry her-someone, it means I’d be in love with her, and you don’t try to change the people you love.”
Malaika was about to mumble something about bloody artists at his rather soppy definition of ‘love’ but they arrived at the address before she had a chance. She was on edge with every step they took up the stairs and she wondered if she had been stupid to drag herself and her sister into this, but surely someone about to capture a terrorist wouldn’t hurt a child. She took a deep breath as they were ushered into the police-free room by their surprised Mr. Detective before hearing Mahmoud let out his own gasp of surprise.
A very familiar tall, blond bloke was sitting in the room. Hannah noticed their reactions and gave Malaika a questioning look. “That’s the bloke that brought you into the hospital, Hannah.”
“What?” the girl turned to Mahmoud then, “But you were the one that found me and…and sang to me when I was…”
“He couldn’t exactly walk into the hospital, could he?” the tall boy said standing up, “I’m Jeremiah by the way.”
Hannah shook his hand and let out a stuttering thank you and then he went on to shake both Malaika and Mahmoud’s hands.
“So I suppose you four are Emmett’s latest attempt to convince me that I should fight for the good of England and teach him how to defend all the poor children.”
He said defend in a very disbelieving manner and it was clear he wasn’t making fun of the idea, but whether this Emmett would actually restrict himself to defense. Malaika understood that feeling when she saw Emmett’s flashing eyes as they made themselves comfortable.
“Well we’ve got to bloody do something!” the bespectacled boy yelled.
“I’ve already said a hundred times, I don’t care for your bloody sense of moral if it lets you kill anyone, period. So don’t try to shove your own blasted guilt up my throat, I’ve got no part in this silly war.”
Mahmoud was looking at Jeremiah with open admiration at this admission, “That’s right,” he said, “And we don’t need to stoop…”
“Oh shut up you bloody terr-” Emmett stopped mid-sentence but it was a little too late.
Malaika stood up to her full height and tried to control the indignant rage that was running through her blood, “Excuse me? I think you’re forgetting that you’re the one that asked for his help, so maybe you should deflate your head a little first, you git. He came here because he couldn’t resist saying no to a call for help, one that you gave, despite the personal risk he took in trusting you. And you know he’s more than you could ever hope to be or you wouldn’t have followed him home in the first place… unless you really are planning to turn him in.”
There was along silence before Emmett spoke up. His face was red and every bit of his face showed that he would love to be saying anything but what he was saying now. “Fine! I’m bloody sorry for believing the evidence against him given in the news, but I’m not going to sit here and listen to you all harping on about not stooping to their level. We can’t just let them bloody murder everyone without doing something. And I personally don’t care if I kill a couple of terrorists in the process of saving people.”
“Oh shut up, have you heard what they’re saying about the Man of the Flames or the Lamplighter or whatever else they call him? He saves people’s lives like you’re harping on about doing and if some prick like you had killed him or turned him in he would never have been able to do it,” Jeremiah was glaring at Emmett with obvious disgust, “I said no. N. O. So if you want to save lives then go do it like him, go help people run out of burning buildings and away from death, I’m not teaching you how to fight or kill people and I don’t care what the excuses are.”
Emmet was about to open his mouth to argue but Jeremiah interrupted him with a silencing “No.”
Malaika looked over at Millie who was watching them like a movie and decided that this was much better for her than those blasted fairy tales where they all kissed, wore dresses (usually a sickening pink) and lived happily ever after.
“Look here,” Emmett said after a short silence, “I’ve seen it first hand now and I’m more determined that it has to stop. We can go on saving as many people as we can when something happens, but until when? They have to be stopped.”
“Bloody no,” though less wordy than Emmett Jeremiah was just as stubborn, “There’s no excuse for it.”
Malaika was getting pretty tired of their argument now and she looked over at Hannah who was looking to her left with a smile. Mahmoud had closed his eyes now and wore that grin she had seen on him the other day before he began attacking his sketchbook. This must mean he had come to some kind of decision.
Mahmoud’s lulling voice stopped almost as soon as it started and Malaika felt almost disappointed, but he immediately began to translate the foreign words into English: “It means ‘Battle has been written for you though your hearts are against it’…that’s my own on the spot translation, but you get the point. We can’t help fighting because we’ve been thrown into this war against our wills and we can’t let people get killed without doing something. But Jeremiah is right, we can’t stoop to their level or we’d be just as bad as them. Doesn’t mean we can’t make it stop though…”
“With patience and hard work we can!” Hannah encouraged.
“We can give people light and hope,” Mahmoud stood up and picked up his lamp, “We can help them escape disaster like firefighters do. We can rebuild and show them how to bring their lives back to normal like you’ve done with your lights and that noisy fridge. We can deal light blows to scare them. We can learn how to give first aid and help the doctors and nurses get where they need to and heal the injured.”
He nodded towards Malaika and then looked up at the others. Jeremiah was sitting up straight and looking back at him thoughtfully. “There would have to be rules to the fighting bit,” he said, “I’ll teach you how to fight just enough to protect yourselves, to give minor injuries if necessary, but that’s all. No guns and no killing.”
Everyone looked towards Emmett who nodded slowly. Mahmoud grinned and held out his hand.
Hannah smiled and put her hand on top of his “The Phoenix-"
“Alliance!” Emmett finished.
