Page 22 of Stone Blind

“Don’t know yet, but he’s in the house, so he can’t be a foe, just not sure yet what kind of friend he is to the Boss, so let’s move cautiously,” Helen told Stephen. “Please start breakfast.”

“Yes’m,” Stephen said, looking at the man. “You need more coffee, Mister?”

“Naw, I’m good,” the man replied, looking at Helen. “Yield.”

“Yield to what? If you’re coming in this house to start some shit, you walked into the wrong place, and I will yield to nothing, good Sir,” Helen said, moving to the counter to grab a knife.

“My handle, you scary little woman,” the man said. “I am Mr. Yield. A Technician. I am a Direction.”

“Oh,” Helen said. “Cranberry. I’m a Fruit.”

“Fruity, you mean,” Yield replied with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. “Where’s Apple? He had me come all this way. What the fuck does he want?”

“I guess it depends on what the fuck it is you do, which would be your first indicator,” Helen replied. “More than likely, he called you do so some of that. Have you had breakfast?”

“Quick. Observant. And yeah, I could eat something,” he said, his eyes returning to the colorful man-child humming at the counter as he checked the coffee levels in the carafe. She spoke to the boy, still intentionally limiting Yield's field of vision for the kid.

“Stephen, please make a batch of waffles, no meat this morning, with a side of cheesy eggs for extra protein,” she added, all the while keeping her eyes on Yield.

More footsteps were heard coming down the stairs. Apple stopped at the entry to the kitchen, noting Yield at the table, Helen at the sink with a knife, and Stephen doing whatever in the hell Stephen called himself doing. The boots were too much, even though the shirt left questions in the minds of sober men as well. Apple started there.

“Stephen, when you start school, think about pulling back a bit on the bright colors. Bright colors make you a target,” Apple said. “I’m not asking you to be less than your authentic self, but there is no need to invite more trouble than you can handle.”

“Oh, I can handle it just fine,” Stephen replied, smacking his lips and placing his hand on a narrow hip.

In three moves, Apple had the boy around the neck, Yield had him by his feet and Helen had knives at both men’s gonads. She applied pressure, ensuring they placed the frightened child on his feet. She shook her head no to both men, as they lowered him to the ground, giving Helen a moment to push Stephen behind her.

“We teach by example, not by fear or intimidation,” she stated, calling over her shoulder to the boy. “Stephen, are you okay?”

“No, I pissed my pants,” he whimpered.

“Go change. I got this,” she told him as the boy skulked away. To both men, she turned her wrath. “That was fucked up even by your Technician standards. This home is supposed to be a safe place for him to express himself. No, he will not go out in public looking like the Grand Marshall for the Pride Day Parade, but damn it, you have just told him that this is not a safe place for him to be himself either. Shame on you both.”

Yield watched her closely. Apple did as well. Ricky had silently entered the space from the dining room to see Helen go into action, and he smiled.

Apple spoke to Yield, “See what I mean?”

“Yes, the reflexes are fast and the instinct to protect is fierce, but can she do anything else?”

“She learned to use a drill and a leveler, and she can shoot,” Apple said. “I got a kid in yesterday that came from a Field of Flowers over in Milwaukee. He’s branded, but some creeper got a hold of him, and the boy is in rough shape. I need to find a cocoon in Milwaukee and shut it down.”

Yield asked, “How’d you get the boy?”

“Pear picked him up on a sweep,” Apple explained, nodding his head in Helen’s direction. “She’s sharp, but I’m needed here to get the boy over the hump. Take her, sweep the area, and find me a trail a follow.”

The man with the scarred face frowned, a scary frown which lessened the appeal of being in his company for any amount of time. “Me? What did I ever do to you?”

“You saw it. She’s got natural instincts, but I’m distracted. This house. The kids. Her training couldn’t have come at a worse time, so I’m calling in my favor,” Apple said.

Helen didn’t appreciate being discussed as if she wasn’t in the room. She sure as heck didn’t appreciate being pawned off on some man she didn’t even know, let alone taking off with himto wherever to find a cocoon of pedos or worse. Fear set in, but she maintained her cool.

“And if I say no?” Helen asked calmly. “I was sent here to be trained by you, not fobbed off on the Dred Pirate Roberts over here, no offense.”

Yield scowled. “Offense taken, lady. Hey, Apple, I owe you a solid, and a solid doesn’t mean some wet behind the ears tart little berry to get on my damned nerves. Plus, I don’t know her.”

“Her initial training started with Slow,” Apple said, and Helen watched the body language of the man with the scar.

In her head, she recounted the conversation Slow had shared with her and Cherry. She recalled him speaking about the initial group of Technicians brought in by Gabriel to start his ragtag crew of weird do-gooders. She didn’t take her eyes off Apple as he spoke slowly. Helen took the time to phrase the words correctly.

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