JC: William Redman Carter Noble Savage Chapter 28 By Lazlo Zalezac Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2005 It was early one afternoon when William found himself waking up at the table on which he had spread his papers and the pages of his dissertation. Two weeks of non-stop work on his dissertation had taken its toll on him. Working twenty hours a day and sleeping at the table when his brain was just too tired to continue had been rough. His body was stiff and his eyes sore from staring at the computer screen. He stood up from the table and stretched. He had drafts of the first four chapters and was pleased with his progress. Although the amount of text in each of the four chapters was not that much, most of his time had been spent typing in all of the equations that formed the basis of his work. There just wasn’t a good way to commit the equations to text. In fact, it had taken him almost eight hours to type in the twenty partial differential equations on which his work was based. That was just one page of his dissertation. He stepped a short distance away from the table and stretched for a second time. The roar of his yawn echoed through the empty house. He felt the need to move and decided that he would visit the martial arts school that was in the town center. Before going, he would have to take a shower since he smelled pretty rank and practice his Tai Chi so that he wouldn’t pull any muscles. He looked around the area where he had been working. There was a pile of empty pizza boxes, bins that had once held Chinese food, and empty soft drink cans. Aware of his surroundings for the first time in four days, he was rather disgusted by the mess he had created. Speaking aloud, he said, “I better clean this mess up.” It took twenty minutes to clear off the trash and put it into a plastic trash bag. Once that was done, he didn’t know what to do with it. The mundane activity actually helped divert his mind from the weird state it had entered in which it was totally focused on the economic theories that were the basis of his work. He carried the trash bag to the alley behind the house. It wasn’t until he was walking back to the house that he realized that he had gone out in his underwear. At least it was still warm enough that he wasn’t uncomfortable. He went into house and slipped into his jogging shorts before returning to the backyard. For the next thirty minutes he went through the moves that Ling had ingrained in his body. It felt good to move. His thoughts became more focused on the here and now as the muscles slowly relaxed. He became more aware of his surroundings. The backyard was rather plain, a small patio surrounded by a grass lawn that was bounded by a chain-link fence. There was a small garden table with two chairs. He could see into the backyards of a dozen houses from where he stood. No one else was outside. Having stretched out and relaxed, he decided it was time to head to the dojo. He grabbed his Gi and put it into a small backpack along with his wallet and keys. Slipping the backpack on, he went out the front door and moved into an easy jog towards the center of town. It was a short trip, less than a mile to the town center. William was approaching the dojo when four teenage boys stepped in his path. They were all dressed alike - blue jeans, tee shirts, and jackets on which was written the name of their high school. Based on their size, William was sure that they were on the football team. The largest of the boys shouted, “Hey Spic! What are you doing here?” William slowed to a stop and asked, “Are you talking to me?” “You’re the only Spic that I see.” “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not Hispanic. I’m a Native American,” William replied. He was less than a hundred feet from the front of the dojo. The large boy hopped around in a circle; whooping while covering and uncovering his mouth with his right hand. His friends laughed as though it was the funniest thing they had ever seen. William frowned and asked, “What in the hell are you doing?” “Doing me an Injun dance,” answered the guy. He whooped a couple of more times and said, “I’m gonna make it rain.” “Ah,” William answered wondering if that behavior was common in regular public schools. He couldn’t believe the immaturity the boys were exhibiting. Moving closer to William, the big kid said, “You never answered my question. What are you doing here?” Smiling as he considered the effect his answer would have on the four boys, William answered, “I came into town looking for a fight.” “You don’t have to look any further.” William ran a hand along the back of his neck as he considered the situation. Despite the fact that the four boys were clearly athletes, they weren’t anywhere in his class. More than likely, he would seriously injure them if he allowed the situation to escalate. He answered, “I’ll be glad to oblige you after I finish my first fight.” “Huh?” The fact that William was not intimidated by facing four much larger boys was disconcerting. The largest boy looked at the others as if to say, ‘Shouldn’t he be offering us his lunch money to leave him alone?’ The other boys shrugged and looked at each other. William took advantage of the momentary confusion to step around the boys. As he passed, he said, “You can watch.” The boys turned expecting to have to chase him down, but William walked directly to the dojo. The boys followed him in, expecting to discover that he was one of those Kung Fu fakes who was going to dance around screaming like a cat. One of the smaller boys gave forth a parody of a Kung Fu scream. The others laughed. William found the owner of the dojo straightening up the mats on the floor. He waited respectfully until the owner noticed him. When the man came over, William gave a short bow and said, “I am working in the area for a couple of months. I was hoping that I could spar with you while I’m in town.” The owner, a large man who was obviously fit, examined William for a moment. Finally, he asked, “Who is your sensei?” “Grandmaster Ling Carter,” William answered. A look of honest surprise flitted across the man’s face. The boys nudged each other as if they were watching a joke unfold. He asked, “What is your name?” “William Redman Carter.” “What is your rank?” “My mother doesn’t believe in rank. She believes in excellence,” William answered. Unlike his little sister Betsy, he had never competed or gone through the process of getting ranked. The man looked over at the shelf on which his trophies were displayed. The highest trophy was third in a state level competition. He knew that he wasn’t a contender, but he was good enough to teach the martial arts to kids in a small town. Frowning, he said, “I fear that I’m not in your class.” The boys suddenly got quiet when they heard the owner of the dojo admit that William was probably the better fighter. They had seen him break boards in a demonstration at the county fair. William didn’t smile or gloat, but merely answered, “The practice shall do us both good.” Relaxing, the owner said, “Good.” “May I ask your name?” “I’m Eric Corbet.” “It is a pleasure to meet you Master Corbet,” William said. Removing the backpack, he asked, “Is there a place where I can change into my Gi?” Eric pointed to a door and said, “You can change in there.” After William went into the room, the man turned to the four teenage boys that were standing around the door. He recognized the boys from the neighborhood, but didn’t know any of them by name. Smiling, he said, “If you boys will take off your shoes and sit by the mat, you’ll get to see one of the best fighters in the country in action.” The biggest boy, who had entertained the idea of pushing William around, blanched at hearing the owner of the dojo identify William as one of the best fighters in the country. He asked, “What do you mean?” “His mother is a Grandmaster and is considered to be the most dangerous woman in the world. I’ve never seen her fight, but the articles about her say that she’s never been defeated in a match. His little sister won a Gold Medal at the Olympics. If Grandmaster Ling trained him, he’s very close to being a Grandmaster. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t a Grandmaster.” “Oh.” Eric went over to the mat and started his warm-up exercises. After a few minutes, he was joined by William. William was wearing his colorful silk Gi that contrasted sharply with the plain white Gi worn by Eric. The boys settled around the mat watching the pair warm-up. They didn’t move until the men had finished sparring for an hour. The matches were interrupted as William gave little pointers on how Eric could improve his skills. By the end, the owner was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. He stepped back and bowed to William. He said, “Thank you for the honor of your lessons.” William bowed back and said, “Thank you. I hope that you will allow me to visit again in the future.” “Anytime, Master Carter,” Eric said. He was very tempted to call William Sensei. William flexed, feeling good in his body. Although Eric was nowhere as good as his mother, the bouts had been pleasurable. He smiled and turned to the boys seated around the mat. He said, “That felt good. Are you boys ready to fight now?” The largest boy shook his head with vigor and, with real respect in his voice, answered, “No sir.” “My name is William Redman Carter.” “I’m Joe Jenkins,” answered the biggest boy. To say that he had been impressed by William’s performance would have been an understatement. He had never seen anything like the pair of men sparring. It was hard to believe that people could move that fast and with such control. The others introduced themselves as Jack Watson, George Miller, and Artie Smith. It was Artie who asked, “How long have you been doing this stuff?” “Since I was five,” William answered. Thinking back to those early days, he said, “My brother and sisters started training as a way to divert some of the energy of my little sister. One could say that she’s a little hyper and learning the martial arts was an easy way to channel her energies into something productive.” “The man over there said your mother was the most dangerous woman in the world. Is that true?” asked Joe. “Yes.” “So has she killed anyone?” George asked. Glancing over at Eric, William sighed and said, “Yes, but it was always in defense of our family.” Eric said, “Your father is John Carter, isn’t he?” “Yes.” Things finally clicked in Joe’s mind. Everyone in town was aware of the fact that John Carter had been born and raised there. Despite the fact that William had already identified his father, Joe exclaimed, “Your father is the John Carter?” “Yes, he is,” William answered with a smile. “My father used to mow the lawn for your grandparents. He says that he met your father a couple of times and thought he was a pretty nice guy,” said Joe. While John Carter wasn’t a daily topic of conversation in the town, his name came up often enough. Just about everyone who had ever known John told stories about the man. It was a strange experience to hear others talk about his father. The external perception of his father was dramatically different from the view from within the family. William had always viewed his father as a fellow human -- a guy who would get down on the floor and play with toys. To hear others talk, his father was above everything human. Smiling, he wondered what the town would say of Ed Biggers years after he died. Thinking about it, he realized that Eddie would take over for his father and there probably wouldn’t be the same kinds of stories about Ed. As the others talked about his father, William slipped into the back room and changed into his jogging shorts and tee-shirt. The Gi was folded carefully and placed in his backpack. It took him a minute to get his socks and sneakers on. As he stepped out of the room, Eric asked, “When will you return?” “How about next Wednesday?” “That would be fine. May I invite my students here to watch?” William smiled at the man’s dedication to allowing his students to learn. He nodded and said, “Sure. That would be okay.” “Thank you.” The men bowed to each other before William stepped out of the dojo. Joe was waiting for him outside. When he saw William, he said, “Sorry about before.” “No problem, although there is a lesson to be learned from it.” Joe looked down at the ground and said, “Yeah.” William wondered if Joe had learned the right lesson. He said, “I’ve got to get back to work. Maybe I’ll see you around.” “Our game is Friday night. I can get you some tickets to it if you’d like to go,” Joe offered. William looked down at the ground wondering what kind of game was Friday night before it dawned on him that Joe was talking about Texas Friday Night High School Football. Never having experienced high school football, the idea of going to a game intrigued him. Looking up, he answered, “That would be nice.” “I’ll drop the tickets off Friday before I’m supposed to go to the game,” Joe said with a smile. He felt that free tickets to the game made a pretty good apology for what he had said earlier. William returned home and resumed his work on his dissertation. Four chapters were basically done and he had three more to write. Two were going to be simple, the introduction and the conclusion. The third chapter was to present his results and would be the most significant of the entire collection. It would also be a chapter with few equations; lots of tables taken directly from his database; and summary graphs. He tore into the chapter with a vengeance. By Friday afternoon William had finished the first draft of his dissertation. He wondered if he hadn’t set some sort of record in writing it. He had produced the entire first draft in less than three weeks time. It was time to take some time off. A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and he went to answer the door. “Oh, hello Joe,” William said when he opened the door. Joe looked at William wondering why he looked so disheveled. Frowning slightly, he said, “I brought some tickets for you.” “Ah, that’s great. Come in for a minute. I just finished my work and was getting ready to take a break,” William said. Joe entered the house and looked around. He could see the dinner table from where he stood. The huge pile of books and papers on the table was difficult to ignore. He asked, “What’s with the stuff on the table?” “My work. I just finished my dissertation,” William said. Joe looked blank and stared at William. A puzzled expression crossed his face as he asked, “Your work? What’s a dissertation?” “I’m getting my doctorate in economics. The dissertation is basically a book that describes the results of my research,” William answered. He headed towards the kitchen and asked, “Could I get you a soft drink?” Stunned at the announcement that a guy who looked younger than him was getting a doctorate, Joe absently answered, “That would be great.” William returned with a can of soda and handed it to Joe. He said, “Excuse me for a minute. I’m going to take a minute to freshen up.” “Sure, no problem,” Joe answered. He wandered over to the table and looked down at all of the articles spread on the table. He noticed the rather large printout and the title page on it. He couldn’t believe the massive amount of work that it represented. He thought about the little five page essay that he was supposed to write for his history class and felt a little ashamed at how much he had complained about having to do it. He sipped his soda as he thought about William. The young man was a Master in Martial Arts and about to receive his doctorate. He wondered if William was even eighteen years old. The kid didn’t even look like he shaved yet. After a moment of thinking about it, he realized that William might not need to shave because of his Native American heritage. William stepped out of his room fresh from a shower and wearing his blue jeans with a western style shirt. He noticed Joe looking down at the table lost in thought. William cleared his throat and said, “I’m back.” The announcement startled Joe and he said, “Oh sorry. I was just looking at this stuff on the table. You must be real smart to do all this.” “My brother thinks that I’m the smartest man alive, but he’s rather biased. Momma Ling thinks that I’m a spoiled rotten brat,” William said with a laugh. He added, “The truth is probably somewhere in between the two.” “I guess that makes you a smart spoiled rotten brat,” Joe said with a chuckle. “That’s about as good of a description as any.” “So where is everyone?” Joe asked. The house had that empty feeling that spoke of someone living alone. It was hard to put into words why it had that feel, but his uncle’s house had that same atmosphere. There was a difference; this house didn’t have that same lonely feel to it. “Oh, I ran away from home to work on my dissertation.” “You ran away from home?” William nodded his head and answered, “Actually, I am supposed to be living in a nice little farm house in Arkansas with my bodyguards. I kind of skipped out of there so that I could be alone while I worked.” The idea that the kid needed a bodyguard was preposterous. Joe had seen William fight and believed that no one would be able to hurt the kid. Still, he didn’t know what to say. For a moment he was quiet and said, “Bodyguards, huh?” “Yeah. So what will I observe at this game tonight?” “Pardon?” “Well, I’m not too familiar with the game of football.” “You’re kidding!” The suggestion that he didn’t understand football stunned Joe. He couldn’t imagine anyone not knowing how to play football. Football was the biggest thing going in town. Most Friday nights the entire town turned out to watch the game. “Not at all,” William replied. Seeing the shocked expression on Joe’s face, he explained, “You have to understand that I graduated high school at six, college at twelve, and got my Masters at fourteen. When I wasn’t studying, I was doing martial arts, swimming, and rock hunting with my dad. My summers were spent with Happy Harry.” Joe didn’t know who Happy Harry was, but he understood the implications of what William had said. The poor kid had never had a chance for a normal childhood and had missed out on football. Putting a hand on William’s shoulder, he said, “Don’t worry. I’ll find someone to explain the game to you.” Nodding his head, William said, “Thank you. That would be quite nice. Why don’t we have a seat?” Joe slouched down on the couch and looked around the room. The décor was straight out of the fifties and showed the wear of long years of use. He said, “I thought your family was rich or something. The furniture in this place is old. I thought you would have real expensive stuff.” Settling into a chair, William caressed the arm rest and said, “Money can’t buy this kind of furniture. This stuff has history. My Grandmother and Grandfather used to sit on this furniture. My dad grew up lounging around on the sofa. My father’s room is just like it was when he left for college. The same bed, bookcase, and closet full of camping gear. Maybe it only has value to me and my family, but we wouldn’t get rid of it for any amount of money.” “I guess.” “Think about if you were to come home after being away for twenty years. Would you want to see the furniture that you grew up with sitting there or some cold commercial furniture that meant nothing to you?” “I see what you mean. I don’t think about things like that much. I guess I take things for granted.” William smiled and said, “We all do.”