The Second Wave

I stepped up onto the ledge of the school's roof, the wind blowing through my hair and over my clothes as if threatening to blow me off and send me hurtling into the street far below. But I wasn't afraid. I'd done this thousands of times before. I rubbed my hands together and blew into them, the chilly, humid evening air running up my sleeves. I quickly ran my hands up and down my arms and pulled up the hood on my jacket, preparing myself for my free run.
Free-running. A favored hobby of mine. Except it did so much more than give me something to do. It gave me a time to concentrate on nothing else but getting from one spot to the next. If your mind drifts, you might just find yourself dead. But most importantly, it was something that only I could do. I'd seen some of the other guys try at running up walls then pushing off into backflips. Not pretty. I knew I wasn't the best at Capture the Flag or any of those other games they called "sports." Who cares if you can fire a gun? The war was over so that wasn't a needed skill. If you could call moving your finger to kill something a skill.
I bounced on the balls of my feet and felt my heart begin to beat harder and faster with anticipation. I clicked a button on the side of my watch, the clock starting to count. Then I leapt up into the air and over the edge, twisting around to grab onto the ledge. As quickly as I could, I worked my way down using window sills and other objects that jutted out from the side of the building. Once I was several feet above the ground, I let myself drop, the wind cutting straight through my clothes and into my skin.
My feet slammed into the cement, but I went straight on ahead, across the street and over to another building with a broken fire escape. Not showing any signs of slowing down, I charged straight for the brick wall. I gave a small jump when I was a little less than a yard away, and ran a short ways vertically, before jumping off to the right and grabbing onto the lowest bar and pulling myself up. I moved swiftly and with ease up to the top, where the walls abruptly broke away and basically made the building a box without a lid. I jogged along the broken edge until I reached the drop between the next obstacles. I moved from building to building, going until I reached the street. I then moved down much in the same way I had down the school.
Now it was just the final stretch. A short sprint down the road, into the park and to the top of the abandoned tank. I pushed on the ground as hard as I could down the center of the street, and for a moment, I thought I heard another set of footprints besides my own behind me. Now was not the time to look though, I could just feel in my bones that I was going to beat my best time. I neared a small, what I guess you could call "split" tree, and I readied mu muscles for a trick. Just as I neared the base, I jumped and spun forward and slightly sideways into a flip, landing, with a small stumble but, nonetheless, continued running. The tank was in my sights now, and now I was almost certain that someone was following me.
Just finish the run. Just go for it. Now!
In one last spurt of energy, I sprang forward and to the top of the tank faster that I'd ever done before. My chest heaving and a cold sweat covering my back, I pulled back my jacket sleeve and stopped the clock. 3:17. That was a good ten seconds faster than my previous time. Gasping but smiling, I turned and gave a small start that there actually was someone there.
"Geez, Beckett," Lindsey heaved. "You sure are a fast little bugger, aren't cha?"
I shrugged, "I guess." I jumped down to stand next to her. "You following me?" I asked, shoving my hands inside my pockets. It wasn't usually this cold during the summer and the change seemed to catch us all off guard.
"Kinda," Lindsey said with a grin. She always seemed to be in a good mood. "Nice moves by the way. I only saw the end but still."
"How'd you know I'd be there?"
"Because you do it every other night at six. Oh don't look so surprised. It's no secret that you do it. Besides," she elbowed me in the arm, "my little brother tells me a lot these days."
"So I've heard," I replied. "So what are you doing here? Don't tell me it's some random pass time of yours to follow people around and have a conversation about what they do in their free time."
"You never know. Just kidding. Don't worry, I would never do anything like that," she laughed. She shifted and looked up at the sky. "Hey, it's getting dark. What d'ya say about going somewhere before we're left blind in the middle of the park?"
"Sure."
We walked back towards the city, the strangeness of the situation hanging over me like a cloud. I'd never really talked one-on-one to Lindsey before and I had no idea why now was the first time.
"He told me about you and Jenny."
"You came all this way to tell me that?"
"No. I just thought it would be a nice ice-breaker. How'd I do?"
"Okay, I guess..."
"Really? Sweet. Um… You know who the Radicals are, right?"
"Yeah," I said, nodding my head. "I mean it's not like I'm a total shut-in or anything."
"I never said you were," Lindsey said defensively. "I was just making sure before I totally dumped stuff out on you."
"Dump stuff on me? What's this all about?"
By now we were back inside the city, the towering walls reaching high into the sky like hundreds of arms. I looked over at Lindsey expectantly, who was staring down at her shoes as she dragged them across the blacktop.
"Well?"
"You don't follow their beliefs, do you?"
"I come from a very anti-Rad family."
"Well, did you know that there's a large population of them in this very city?" she looked around her, as if she was worried that someone would pop out at any moment and slit her throat just for saying that.
"Now I do. So? What's this got to do with me?"
She ushered me over to the inside of an alley. I followed her. "Here," she pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to me.
I slowly took it, my brows wrinkled in confusion. I opened it.
Dear Lindsey,
"But this is addressed to you. I can't read this," I tried to give it back, but she only pushed it away.
"No. You read it. I already did. That's why you need to as well." I looked back down at the letter.

Dear Lindsey, I wish to inform you that all is going according to plan. I have convinced someone that has agreed to go along. I have explained everything in full detail and they are to be released soon. Should be there within several weeks.
I think it would be best if you explained everything that is going on to the young Mr. Hollens and his mother. It's important that they understand why everything happened the way it did. Tell them I'm sorry for putting them in so much danger.
If it isn’t too much to ask, I would also appreciate it if you and the society would take Mr. Hollens as an apprentice, assuming that his mother permits it. This way he can be better prepared for when my associate arrives.
Best of luck,
Edward Yusuf †

"What is this?" I asked, looking up. Lindsey was staring at me intently. "Who gave this to you?!"
"Just some random guy. He was some sort of guard from a prison."
"Based on this letter it seems like you've written before."
"Yeah, so? What's it to you who I write? Besides, he's a colleague of mine."
"Colleague? For what? How do you know this man?!"
"Calm down, Beckett. Man, I had no idea this would get you so worked up. We're part of a secret society. That's why I came to talk to you. He seems to think that you have the potential to become one of us. So do you know him too? Or did he just pick your name out of the phone book?"
"Oh, I know him all right," I slid down the wall to sit on the cold cement. This was definitely a sitting down moment.
"How?"
"Because he's my father."

==-=

I sat there for several minutes in utter silence. The weight of that letter had hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn't believe that he was still out there. And part of some "secret society" by the looks of it. How much about my father was there that I still didn't know? It made me shiver to think about. My dad had always been one of my, what I guess you could call "close friends." We would talk to each other about things and we would hang out. But now... I had no idea what to think anymore...
"Why me?"
Lindsey shrugged as she leaned against the wall opposite of me, her arms crossed lazily over her chest. "My guess is that he's wanting you to carry on the family name or something. He's your father and he's in jail. Might be his way of still maintaining some influence over the Order."
"Well, that might make sense if I even had his last name. Not long after the war started he made me take my mom's. No one would even be able to connect us if I didn't tell them."
"Why'd he have you change your name?"
I shrugged, "I dunno. He told me that it was for my own safety and that someday I'd thank him for it."
Lindsey rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Interesting..."
"What?"
"Well, several months after the war began, Edward, your dad, started the Order. One widely unknown fact is that it only took months, not years, for Radicals to appear. Your father must've wanted to keep you unconnected from that part of his life. But why would he want you now? I guess none of that matters, though. All that matters is that he needs you to be trained and ready as soon as possible."
"What's this 'Order' you keep mentioning? If my father expects me to join his little cult, I think I have every damn right to know what it is."
Lindsey pushed herself away from the wall and stared at me, the evening light casting half of her face in dark shadow. I was struck by how much I didn't really know about her. Yeah, I knew that she was my best friend's gay older sister, but other than that, I had nothing. Jack never talked all that much about her, and she was hardly ever around. Maybe that helped explain this whole "Order" situation.
"It is not a cult," she spat the word out as if it poisoned her just by hearing it. "Radicals are a cult. Nazis are a cult. We are the complete opposite. We are the Order of the Black Guardians, an elite group of men and women who have dedicated themselves to doing whatever it takes to bring an end to the major threats of humanity. It is because of us that we weren't totally wiped out, so I think you'd better watch your tongue next time you decide to talk that way about the Guardians."
I held my hands up defensively, "Okay, okay. Geez, I'm sorry."
"Let's hope so," she scoffed.
I quickly decided to change the subject, "So. The Black Guardians, was it? What is it you're 'guarding'?"
"Truth. Justice. Peace. An end to all this madness. These were the qualities sought out by our founders. Edward Yusuf and John Linman. It's kinda dumb, I know, but the name just kinda stuck after a while."
"Okay. So I get the 'Guardian' part. But where does the 'Black' come in to play?"
"Black is a referral to our work being done in complete secrecy. Notice how you've never heard of us before now? That's because we stay to the shadows. Hide in plain sight, so to speak."
"And do you guys do anything besides fighting off all the evil-doers of the world?"
"Of course. But don't think I'm about to tell you what they are. In order to find that out, you'd have to become an apprentice. That is, if you pass the initiation into apprenticeship. And don't think you'll get off easy just because you're Edward's son, you'll be treated just like every other initiate there is. So, what do you think?"
I stood up, my mind reeling with endless possibilities. This could be the break I needed. "I think you just got yourself a new apprentice."