Slowly, Danny blinks himself into consciousness. He’s been trying to wake up for an hour, but it doesn’t seem to stick. I can’t help but feel like this is my fault, so the least I can do is sit next to him. The doctors have already told me he’ll be fine, but I still can’t fight the growing fear.
“Lance,” Danny mutters. That’s more than he’s mustered before. I wonder if this will be the time that his sleep actually comes to an end. My eyes fall from his eyes and stare at the gauze covering his shoulder. I know he can transform his flesh, but he isn’t anywhere near the level Alistair had been. Danny’s power is more geared toward combat and creating weapons, but he isn’t able to work with something he doesn’t have. The muscle and nerves which were removed completely as a result of the wound are going to take time to heal.
Danny turns his head slowly to look at me. I see his shoulder twitch, but his arm doesn’t move in response. Rather than focusing his attention on me, he drops his gaze to his hand. Following his eyes, I watch his immobile fingertips as well.
“That’s concerning,” he mutters.
“What?”
“I can’t move my hand.”
“Yeah,” I reply, dropping my eyes in shame. “They said it should be temporary. You lost a lot of tissue in your arm, but with your power and the graft they stitched into your shoulder, the nerves will be able to reconnect.”
“How bad is it?” He asks, turning his eyes back to his shoulder. I don’t know exactly how to answer his question. He already knows he has no feeling in his right arm – that seems to be a good indicator of the severity of the wound. Of course, Danny probably doesn’t remember the hole of three-inch diameter which had pierced through his entire shoulder.
“They closed everything up,” I answer. “There was some infection spreading rapidly, but they stopped it. I think there was some type of venom on the tip of the spear.”
“It wasn’t the tip,” Danny recalls. He tries to sit up but winces and falls back down. I reach out to try to help him, but I’m not sure what to do, so I allow my hand to fall back to my side. “The spear was more of a delivery method. I don’t know how exactly it works, but the head opened when it hit me.”
My stomach churns as I picture the weapon and its impact with my friend. I could have stopped it if I’d just gone with him, but my broken mind wouldn’t let me. I thought I’d be able to live the rest of my life running from my trauma, but now I see what that does to other people. Still, there’s nothing I can do. When I even start to think about the potential of a fight, I see the aftermath of that war.
Even now, my mind starts to drift back to that scene. I start to think of the bodies and the various injuries they all sustained. Everything was a blur of blood and death. Screams filled my ears and people begged me for help, but I couldn’t stop him. I don’t know what pushed Carson to the point that he believed that was his only escape, but I know the result of it.
“It bore into my skin and lodged itself in my shoulder,” Danny continues explaining.
“I don’t know if I can hear this,” I mutter.
“It’s important. I didn’t remove it – because you’re not supposed to. That was why it had the chance to inject me with poison. Whatever these weapons are, they’re not primitive. They’re specifically designed to kill, Lance.”
“Oddly enough, that doesn’t make it easier to hear,” I sigh. I don’t want to be making this about me, but I can feel another panic attack pushing its way forward. I try to steady my breathing and be a rock for my injured friend, but I’m not the person who should be handling this. There are plenty of guards – maybe I should get one of them. I think Danny can see the intent in my eyes, because he reaches across himself and catches my wrist with his good arm just as I push my chair back to go search for help.
“I can’t fight, Lance. Not to the best of my ability.”
“That’s why you’re not the only guard. Anyway, you’ll make a full recovery in no time.”
“Not soon enough. They’re coming for us. The guards won’t be enough. They need you.”
“No,” I snap, pulling my arm free.
“I know you don’t want to fight – and as your friend I don’t want to ask you to – but you’re the only one who can stop this now.”
“I can’t!” I shake my head violently, panicking at the sheer thought of allowing myself to rush into battle again. No, they have to handle this on their own. They’re better off without me holding them back.
“Why not?” Danny bites back, raising his voice. Getting passionate, he forces himself to a seated position. His left arm presses against his stomach as he sits up and I realize his injuries are even more serious than I thought. Still, he backs back the pain and glares at me, apparently unwilling to deal with my reaction any longer. “Because you lost to someone who’s practically all-powerful? So what? That makes you inept?”
“It makes me afraid!” I scream, losing all sense of location. I push my chair back violently and rise to my feet, looking down at Danny as scowls at me. I can’t tell if he’s angry or disappointed, but neither is pleasant. This is why I’ve been trying to keep that trapped inside and hide it from the citizens, but bottling things up only lasts so long.
“So what?” Danny yells back. I’m worried he’ll tear his stitches if he keeps getting worked up. If nothing else, he’s sure to draw the attention of the doctors, which is probably for the best. Either way, I don’t have the strength in me to argue with him. A fight is still a fight – even if it’s verbal – and I’m not a fighter. I failed at that life.
Dropping my shoulders, I fall back into my seat and sigh. I can’t meet his eyes, because I don’t want to know what he thinks of me. I don’t want to see his eyes calling me a coward or a failure. I don’t want to see the wounds he was willing to take for his people – the sacrifices he’s made for us and the scars he already bears – when I can’t bring myself to fight for him. I can’t face him.
“I’m afraid, Danny,” I whisper.
“We’re all afraid,” Danny sighs, lowering his own voice as well. “Being a hero doesn’t mean not being afraid. It means doing it anyway. These people need you, Lance. It’s not fair, but they do. You have to decide if you’re going to help them. I can’t make you.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I just can’t.”
I don’t stay long enough for Danny to express his disappointment. Instead, I turn, rise to my feet, tuck my chin to my chest, and scurry from the room. I need to get home and get away from all of this. On my way out of the hospital, I tell a nurse that Danny’s away. They’ll be able to take care of him, and the guards can protect the people. All I have to do is tend to the crops. That’s all I can do.
All the way back to my house, I carefully avoid people and conversation. I don’t know what to tell them. Maybe I should be spreading word about the impending attack, but that will probably only cause panic. There are too many things to factor into making that decision, and I’m not capable of sorting through them all. It takes a leader to make decisions for an entire group of city – and that’s not me. Danny can decide when to tell them. He’s awake now, and he’s handling all of this better than me.
People try to stop me to ask me about him, but I pretend I don’t hear them. Picking up the pack, I keep my head down and follow the winding roads to finally reach my house. Quickly, I open the door and hide behind it. When I’m safely in my home, I press my back against the door and slide to the floor. My breathing is rapid and I try to slow it down, but it only serves to increase the rate. I pull my knees to my chest and drop my head between them, trying to control blood flow and bring the attack to a stop.
Finally, I’m able to breathe almost normally. I don’t know when the tears started, but I feel them drying on my face. I think back to when the Council summoned me and to the day Minerva asked me to take her place. I wasn’t only confident – I was strong and fearless. My massive failures are enough to break anyone down, though, right? Perhaps not – Danny is at the same place. He’s a hero. I’m not.
I try to push those thoughts away. Self-defeating thoughts don’t help in any way, and they’re not going to build me back up. Staying busy is the only way to keep my mind from going back to that dark place, so I have to find something to do. I know I can’t help in the fight, but the warriors are still going to need to eat when the fight is over. Especially if the battle is close to home, the crops are in danger. I have to protect our food supply. I have to gather what’s ready to eat and somehow make sure the battle doesn’t go near what isn’t. That’s what I can do. I don’t have to be involved in the actual battle, and I don’t have to be responsible for any of the death or wounds. I can just save my plants.
I wish Danny could see the importance in that. I hate disappointing my friend, but someone has to make sure we can eat. There isn’t any logical reason I shouldn’t focus on the tasks to which I’m better suited and let the others do the same. People with super strength and super speed should be fighting. Better yet, people who can heal should be on the front lines. I just have elevated senses. That doesn’t make a warrior – that just means I can tell better than they can when the crops are ready. The Council thought my power was more than that – they believed my senses qualified me for the title of Class I. However, that misplaced faith got all of them – and most of their subjects – killed. Now Danny is trying to do the same.
Patting my knees, I rise to my feet. I’ve convinced myself. I know my place, and I’m comfortable with it. My name is Lance Quill, and I’m a farmer. I crack my neck and turn to my door. After a few more breaths to steel myself, I open the door and face the world outside.
Danny has already gathered most of the people somehow, and quite a few of them are standing in the middle of town. They split into pairs and start sparring, apparently training for the upcoming fights. Not all of them are guards. Is Danny so afraid of this upcoming threat that he finds the need to rope ordinary citizens into the fight?
Coming from all around me, I can hear voices talking about searching for weapons. People show off large knives or rakes and consider them as potential tools for those who don’t have a battle-ready power. I want to ask Danny how many enemies there are. If there are enough of them to surround us – we ought to split up and take our positions sooner rather than later. If they try to surround us, there are only two options. Either we’re not ready and we’re surprised or we are and they’ve sacrificed their numbers by giving us smaller groups. Of course, if there aren’t many of them, our better plan is to form a battalion at the front gate – where they’re most likely to attack. The rest of our city is minimally fortified, but it’s still enough to deter someone looking for the easiest entrance for a small group.
Our entire battle strategy should depend on how many enemies there are – even down to the training. Right now, people are sparring in one-on-one battles, but that’s just going to exhaust them. Danny will have them training right up until the moment the enemy attacks, and then our people won’t be able to fight properly. Unfortunately, if they can’t already fight, they won’t be able to by the time the threat arrives. They’d be better off playing a support role and trying to evacuate the injured or creating a wall with shields.
Shaking my head, I stop thinking about Danny’s plans. I’ve given up any right to have a say in such things. Besides, I’d just end up making it worse and costing more people their lives. Turning from the people training, I find my way to the outskirts. I have to start picking vegetables and getting them inside the wall.
I spend a few hours doing just that, and time flies by quickly. I don’t have to think about the upcoming battle or the strategy for it. It’s so much easier to simply accept my place in the plan than it is to try to put other peoples’ lives on my shoulders. I’m able to hum peacefully as I perform my task.
A few guards are still stationed in the towers, so I know they’ll see any threats long before they arrive. Danny has this handled. The guards in the watchtowers can filter enemies to the main gate and the brunt of our force will be there to handle to battle. It’s a simple solution, and it doesn’t require me at all.
As I bring a wheelbarrow of vegetables to the silo, I can’t help but notice a few of the fighters. Two of them are exhausted from their training and leaning against a building. They’ll be useless if the battle is today. Another pair is throwing one wide haymaker after another, demonstrating their clear lack of skill. I want to correct them, but my confidence in my own fighting skill has wavered too much. I’m not the guy who corrects the fighters. I’m the guy who brings in the crops to protect them from outsiders.
I bring one wheelbarrow after another into the silo while all of the people who’d volunteered – or been drafted – to fight continue to train. When I pass Danny in the streets, I avoid talking to him. Instead, I drop my head and look the other way. I don’t want to have to explain myself to him. I wish he could understand what I’m going through. If I could find the words, maybe I could express the turmoil in my mind, but I can’t. I can’t expect sympathy from Danny when he’s clearly experienced the same things – if not worse – and come out stronger for it.
Ashamed of my cowardice, I continue pouring my efforts into what I am able to do. Everyone is preparing for battle in their own way, but mine is exactly as noble. The only reason it wouldn’t be is if someone – like Danny – believed I was capable of fighting and refused to do it. The problem is, I’m not capable of it in the first place. I wish he could see that. I wish all of the citizens would simply understand that I’m not the leader they want me to be. They should make their new Council, and it should include people who can take charge, but it shouldn’t include me.
No, I’m perfectly content to keep my head down and live a normal life. I don’t have to be anything extraordinary. I can’t.
