Divine Awakening

Ash knelt next to the open bedroom window careful not to let himself be visible from outside. He leaned against his stuffed bug-out-bag and wondered if today he’d need to use it. A quick glance at the clock confirmed the early hour—3 AM. These narcos had stolen an hour of sleep from him.

They’d attacked the previous morning as well, and Ash had left some of them alive. Not out of kindness, but because for the first time what he thought might be his Divine chakra had triggered. The source of the sensation had originated from inside the avocado grove, but he couldn’t see anything. Grandpa Pine must have felt it as well because, despite the early hour, he’d shouted for Ash from inside the house.

This time Ash wouldn’t let himself get distracted, and he’d leave a powerful message for the narcos. One that caused enough fear to keep them away from the farm for the next few weeks.

Multiple chakras vibrated within Ash. His Third Eye, the most active and the one that had awoken him, made his eyebrows itch. Looking at the window with any intention of jumping through it caused his Root chakra to flare with heat, indicating danger. The narcos had the window under surveillance.

The survival instinct warming his Root activated his Sacral chakra which filled his body with energy, but his Third Eye kept him still. A deep confidence spread from his Solar Plexus chakra and it kept his heart rate steady.

Using a foot Ash pulled a pair of gym shorts close enough to grab and he slipped them over his boxers. Stretching toward his bed he snagged a black T-shirt and pulled it over his head.

Ten seconds later Ash’s Third Eye suddenly went still, and his Root cooled. He didn’t hesitate, jumping through the window and onto the packed dirt that surrounded the small house he shared with his grandpa. A short wall only two feet high circled the house on this side, built by Ash for times just like this. Third Eye and Root had reacted most strongly to the area in front of the house, which meant the danger he sensed here was likely a sniper. He’d come back for the gunman in a bit.

Moving quickly, Ash army-crawled along the wall and into the bushes that lined the right side of the house. Third Eye didn’t react, so he continued past the bushes and navigated the fifteen feet to the shadows around their rusted ford pickup.

Ash pushed himself off the ground and into a crouch. The sharp gravel of the driveway didn’t bother his bare feet, which years of Step practice had hardened. Clouds dimmed the moonlight creating deep pools of darkness. He consumed a sliver of energy from his Root chakra, enhancing his eyesight enough to view the thirty feet to the metal shed, which despite appearances still hadn’t collapsed.

The early morning air caused Ash’s skin to prickle. This was as cold as it ever got here, and he hated the cold. Of the eight chakras, he’d only awakened his Root, and it generated far more energy than the others. Using this as justification, he consumed Root energy to warm his body and flood his muscles with strength and speed.

Third Eye sensed the shifting danger as the narcos, around ten of them Ash guessed, moved from behind the shed toward the avocado grove, likely planning to flank the house.

This small avocado farm, the only thing Ash’s family had, stood like a wart in the middle of the narcos’ newest business venture: legitimate farming. And it turned out the narcos didn’t like warts.

Kneeling by the truck’s front tire, Ash focused on Third Eye, passing it different ideas, or the same ideas with different destinations. He did this until Third Eye calmed.

With trust gained from hundreds of such encounters, Ash dashed toward the right side of the shed. An Olympic gold medalist could cross that distance in eight tenths of a second, and with his Root enhanced body it only took him half that.

Ash entered the shed’s shadow and stopped, careful not to put any pressure on the metal wall as the weakened panels would certainly create noise. His heightened senses smelled beer, heard whispers, and even the faint vibrations from the more heavily burdened attackers. A flare of light from the rear of the shed revealed a man lighting a cigarette, his machine gun tucked under his arm.

Not sensing any danger, Ash leaped the twenty feet to the man, surprising him before his night vision could recover. He struck the man in the nose with the Viper Step “Soaring Palm” which pushed enough bone fragments into his brain to kill him instantly.

Ash caught the man with one hand and the weapon with the other, lowering them both quietly to the dirt. Approaching whispers forced him to slide behind a pile of half-rotted pallets.

Protecting the farm from narcos had suddenly become much easier eighteen months ago for reasons Ash suspected but couldn’t confirm. Still, a few narcos sometimes made it to the house. Always for one of two reasons, to murder him and his grandpa or burn their house down.

Had this farm belonged to anyone else, the narcos would have succeeded long ago. His family’s resistance had created a local legend which only inflamed the anger of the crime lords. When his grandpa’s sickness had sapped the old man of his energy two years ago, Ash had worried his martial arts and basic chakra abilities wouldn’t be enough to survive. The help from the strangers had been enough, though, despite the ever-increasing scale of the attacks.

Two men appeared, and the one in the lead tripped over the dead body Ash had left. In a blink, he’d struck the falling man in the back of his neck, snapping his spine. The second narco remained focused on his falling friend and never saw the strike that shattered his voice box, stopping any screams before they could begin. Two seconds later both men had died from snapped necks.

This time, Ash pulled all three bodies, along with their weapons, out of sight behind the pallets.

Ash returned to the front corner of the shed and carefully searched the tops of the avocado trees closest to the house, and sure enough, he found another sniper. Coupled with the sniper in the back it meant this group didn’t have much experience and likely wanted to lure Ash or his grandpa out with a distraction. They expected to easily kill anyone leaving the front door, or the bedroom windows.

With a deep breath, Ash analyzed the scents with his Root chakra and paid attention to his Sacral which sometimes activated when a scent triggered a strong emotion. The heavy scent of gasoline came from the other side of the shed, and more distantly cigarette smoke and whispered conversations. The talking came from thirty feet inside the grove. The group waited impatiently for the fire to start, so they could swarm forward and kill anyone that survived the snipers.

A warm gust ruffled Ash’s unruly hair, the breeze holding a hint of seaweed. He cursed these narcos and all the others that not only made his life hell, but made visiting the beach impossible, one of the few pleasures available to him.

Ash rotated his focus in a circle paying close attention to the interaction between his Third Eye and Root chakras. Concentrating on the back of the shed caused intense heat to radiate from the bottom of his spine and the itching on his forehead trickled into his eyes, pooling there like acid.

The attackers had placed a sniper at the front and rear of the house and sent a small contingent to the shed, where based on the smell, they planned to start a fire. A group of around ten waited impatiently in the trees.

Ash expected another group at the back of the house, but the sniper covering the bedroom windows was the only person Ash detected. In that direction, the road turned sharply a mile away as it circled their farm, making it the most convenient place to assemble and approach the house undetected.

Either these attackers were incompetent, or Ash’s guardian angels had intervened again.

Knowing the locations and general number of the enemy allowed Ash to relax. He could handle this situation.

On the opposite side of the shed Ash heard faint conversation. He concentrated on the sounds and heard three distinct voices. Years of accumulated junk cluttered the area around the shed, and he easily navigated to the other side without detection.

Ash paused before stepping into view, giving his chakras two seconds to warn him of any danger, and then crouched to peek around corner. Two men knelt next to a red gas can, their weapons on the ground next to them. The third man stood guard over the pair, awkwardly holding his machine gun, and Ash frowned in disappointment. It was Maria’s brother, Diego.

With ten quick strides Ash stepped behind Diego and struck a nerve cluster near his right shoulder, paralyzing his right side for the next twenty seconds. Diego tried turning, but the numbness threw his balance off and he stumbled.

Ash struck Diego in the temple with the heel of his palm, knocking him out, and then quickly jabbed his throat as he fell, careful not to crush the windpipe. It would leave an ugly bruise and the swelling would make talking difficult for a week or two. Killing Diego was out of the question, regardless of the circumstances.

Ash silently eased Diego’s body to the ground, and five strides later, loomed over the two near the gas can. They remained oblivious and Ash didn’t bother with any of the twenty-seven Viper strikes or twelve Bamboo submissions the closest man’s position made trivial, and simply grabbed his neck and twisted, snapping it.

The other narco dived for his weapon and Ash kicked him in the nose, making sure to only break it and not shove any fragments into the man’s brain. It would look suspicious if Diego was the only one to survive.

Ash stared down at the three men and wondered when these attacks would end. Never he knew. The drug lords always got what they wanted. To deny them meant a painful death, and soldiers were cheap. He’d need to talk to his grandpa again about giving up the farm. If the farm’s guardian angels hadn’t arrived a year and a half ago, Ash and his grandpa would have surely died already.

Ash shifted his gaze to Diego and sighed, thoughts of Maria causing his Heart chakra to vibrate. Ash had stopped seeing her a year ago when it became obvious the local narcos planned to get serious about stealing the farm. That meant anyone close to him and his grandpa would become targets, and he couldn’t let that happen to her.

Grandpa Pine’s health had worsened to the point he couldn’t hide it. Ash couldn’t imagine life without his grandpa, but it appeared increasingly likely it would soon be a reality. Until then, though, Ash would defend his family’s farm.

It took ten minutes to kill the two snipers. Ash quietly carried all the bodies to a small clearing in the grove three hundred feet from the larger group that impatiently waited for the fire to start. He confirmed Diego and the other narco remained alive and piled the bodies together. Using the gas they’d brought he dumped it on all the bodies.

Ash placed the empty gas can and lighter at the edge of the clearing and then crept a hundred feet toward the large group. He waited for a lull in their conversations and then made a strangled sound, something between a yell for help and moan of pain, pitched so that it would barely reach them.

The group went silent, all of them straining to hear the sound again. One of the men waved a hand in Ash’s direction and five men strode toward Ash. He smiled and quickly moved toward the clearing to stand next to the gas can.

Thirty seconds later Ash’s Third Eye flared to life as the narcos spotted him. He whipped his body around in an exaggerated movement to make it obvious he’d detected them, then he turned and dashed away.

The group would find the bodies and believe they’d stopped Ash from burning them. That, coupled with the other survivor, and Diego’s terrible bruises, would protect him from suspicion. Usually when the narcos came, no one returned.

Shouts from behind Ash confirmed they’d found the bodies. He stopped near the house but remained in the grove. As he’d hoped, the remaining narcos took their comrades and left. He let the last of the tension leave his body and strode toward his open bedroom window.

Ash needed to shower, which would leave him ten minutes to eat a quick breakfast before his day began. He hated days that started like this, especially when they cost him precious sleep.

On the bright side, Ash had time to watch a little news. Hopefully a world government had discovered new information about the Pit.