Chapter 28

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."