Overtaken by Destiny (A Destiny Among Worlds Book 1) Read online

His opponent leapt backward to avoid the kick then jumped forward again, punching directly toward Charles’s exposed head.

  Although Charles partially deflected the punch, the referee yelled, “One point.”

  The bell rang again.

  Doug came in quickly and jabbed twice, trying to catch Charles off guard.

  As Charles palmed the second jab, he grabbed the other young man’s fist with his hand and yanked him forward.

  The combination of Doug already shifting his weight forward to make the punch and Charles jerking him forward pitched the Harrison High School hopeful forward so fast that it was not clear for a moment what had happened.

  The two combatants collided with each other.

  Charles’s dazed opponent was unable to quickly dodge away, leaving him completely open.

  Charles stood to his full height and dropped a right cross.

  Despite the protective gear they wore on their hands, heads, and feet, the impact was so great that Doug dropped like a rock.

  “One point,” the referee yelled.

  Doug staggered to his feet, still dazed and now very wary of going on the offensive again.

  Charles rushed at his adversary but to no avail.

  Although dazed, the other young man was still too quick. He closed in on Charles with a roundhouse kick in an attempt to push Charles back again, but Doug still moved slower than normal due to the collision.

  Charles caught his opponent’s kick in the crook of his left arm and backfisted Doug in the face.

  The referee again called the point. After the standard break in combat, he cued for the fight to recommence.

  Now, however, the match was essentially over because Charles’s opponent was even more sluggish.

  Charles scored twice more in rapid succession, and the time expired.

  The referee yelled, “Winner,” as he walked over to Charles and followed up with, “two wins for Harrison and one for Eagleton.”

  Jack smiled slightly as he mused about how many of Charles’s fights looked this way. Charles usually had a slow start, but being 6 feet 3 inches and weighing 210 pounds usually brought him through in the end. Charles was much less aggressive than most big guys Jack had known, which sometimes made him slow initially when fighting. Charles was, however, very smart, particularly in mathematics, and he was good at designing and building things. Jack completely approved of Charles’s plans to major in mechanical engineering in college.

  Like Jack’s family, Charles’s family was middle-class and predominantly generous. The major economic depression that occurred just before Jack was born had changed almost everyone who grew up during that time, making people either very stingy or generous.

  Jack’s thoughts were again interrupted by the bell. Ben’s fight came next.

  “Don’t worry guys; I’ve got this.” Ben stepped into the ring. “This guy won’t know what hit him.”

  Ben was always a little overconfident. He liked to boldly try new things just because he could, and when events took a negative turn as a result of his spontaneity, it usually did not bother him—it was simply expected losses in his mind. At least he usually tried not to bring down Jack and Charles with him. The two had certainly gotten him out of trouble on more than one occasion. That being said, Ben was the most loyal of friends and had a reasonable sense of morality, so the trouble in which he found himself was not something that would send him to jail; it was just rather unwise. He would buy something because it looked interesting but not know what it did, or as in this case, begin a match with a flying sidekick because he thought it would be fun and look cool.

  Apparently, Ben’s challenger did not know him as well as Jack because Clarence was completely surprised. He managed to bring his arms up in front of his chest, but the force of the kick launched its recipient backward despite the block. Clarence hit the elastic rim around the ring, and the spring-like bands pitched him back toward the ring’s center.

  Jack looked to the referee to see if he would call the point.

  The referee shook his head and yelled, “Blocked!”

  Ben, at 5 feet 11 inches and 160 pounds, was not necessarily as aggressive as he was reckless.

  Ben swiftly approached his adversary and launched a series of full power attacks at his opponent’s head.

  The Harrison boy managed to block and dodge the punches but allowed himself to be pushed back into the corner of the ring in the process.

  Ben paused for a moment to think then moved in with a series of jabs. As Clarence tried to counterattack, Ben sidestepped the punch and grabbed his opponent’s arm, pulling him slightly forward and off balance. Then Ben twisted his body and struck Clarence in the back of the head with the bottom of his own fist. The coach had taught Ben the backfist and hammerfist techniques early in his training, and he had adapted them very well with his speed and agility.

  The referee called out the point, and the two went back at it hard and fast.

  Clarence now matched Ben’s aggressive style, assuming that Ben was naturally always aggressive.

  Ben stepped forward to deliver a front kick to his opponent.

  Clarence saw it coming and spun, delivering a back kick into Ben’s midsection that knocked him backward and onto the ground.

  “One to one,” the referee called.

  During the brief break Jack overheard their instructor telling Ben not to get caught up in the extremely aggressive facade he had created. When a fight started, Ben was good at creating emotional deceptions, but when he acted aggressive and became frustrated, he would usually buy in emotionally to the facade he had just created, leaving his movements too predictable.

  Mr. Thompson said, “Fight defensively for a minute to cool off; then turn your anger back on. Remember, the longer you stay calm, the more powerful your aggression becomes when you release it and the easier it is to control so that you won’t do something you’ll regret.”

  Taking his advice, Ben started fighting defensively, and Jack could see him becoming calmer.

  When the bell was about to ring, Ben switched back to his aggressive style, coming at his opponent quickly with two roundhouse kicks to throw him off balance before driving a sidekick straight into his abdomen.

  “Point and match,” called the referee. “Another for Eagleton.”

  “It’s your turn now, Jack,” said Mr. Thompson. “Remember what I said: switch up your emotions to keep your opponent off balance.”

  This is it, Jack thought. I have to win, or I’ll lose for the entire school.

  Edgar loomed in the ring in front of him. Edgar was a good 6 feet 2 inches and 200 pounds in comparison to Jack’s 5 feet 11 inches and 145 pounds. Edgar was strong, fast, and good at using his size and weight in an aggressive style.

  The bell rang, and Edgar dashed forward toward Jack.

  Man, that guy is huge, Jack thought.

  Edgar came in with a roundhouse kick to Jack’s left side.

  I get it, Jack thought as he blocked. He’s trying to come in, hit me with a couple of jabs, and probably end the combination with a right cross. Jack executed a front kick to force Edgar to back off and interfere with his planned combination. I must look scared, Jack thought. He definitely felt intimidated. I need to portray a different feeling. Jack smiled slightly while letting out a small chuckle. It had the desired effect.

  Infuriated, Edgar ran straight at him.

  Jack quickly jumped to the side and shot a roundhouse kick directly into Edgar’s midsection.

  Edgar growled, “You little punk.”

  The referee called, “Point.”

  Jack now changed his expression to one that was completely calm and unchanging.

  Edgar did the same.

  Apparently, he’s taking this more seriously, Jack thought.

  Edgar moved in slowly this time.

  Jack quickly pushed forward and shot a couple jabs at him.

  Edgar dodged backward just a little and returned with a front kick. He then jumped forward and leap
t into the air, performing a flying sidekick.

  Jack pivoted to the side at the last moment to avoid the kick. As Edgar landed in a slightly crouched position, Jack jumped upward so that he looked straight down toward Edgar’s head and punched.

  Edgar moved his head just in time and gave a straight punch to Jack’s midsection.

  The blow pushed Jack backward, but he still landed on his feet.

  “Point, Harrison,” called the referee.

  Edgar’s coach yelled at him to close the distance and hit Jack up close.

  Edgar moved in, shooting a few jabs and trying to grab Jack’s arm.

  I can’t let him grab me, Jack realized, or he will get an easy score. I’ll have to use roundhouse and front kicks to force him to keep his distance.

  This strategy worked for a time, but Edgar became bolder and started brushing Jack’s kicks aside. Then Edgar caught one of Jack’s roundhouse kicks and shoved his leg upward.

  The force lifted Jack into the air, and he landed on his back.

  “Point for Harrison Academy,” yelled the referee.

  As the bell rang again, Jack looked at the clock and thought, I’m running out of time. I need to do something extreme.

  “Is that all you got, Jackson?” Edgar taunted. “Looks like I’ve got this match in the bag.”

  No, Jack told himself. He closed his eyes for a moment. He was calm; then he became angry. Now, I have to feel the emotion just like it’s real while still staying calm. Jack opened his eyes.

  Edgar started to close the distance between them.

  Jack ran straight at Edgar, jumping toward his head and faking a punch at his face.

  Edgar blocked the punch but was too slow to move out of the way of Jack’s body as Jack soared through the air.

  Jack’s body collided with Edgar’s upper torso, and Jack grabbed with his legs and left hand.

  The force of the impact knocked Edgar backward with Jack still hanging on him. Edgar grabbed Jack, trying to pry him off.

  Jack swung his right elbow into the side of Edgar’s head.

  Despite the headgear he wore, Edgar dropped to the floor with Jack still on top of him.

  The referee said, “All right, get off. Point, Eagleton.”

  But Edgar didn’t get up.

  Edgar’s coach yelled at him, “Get up, weakling! You’re tired, but if the bell rings, and you’re still down, you lose.”

  Edgar lifted and shook his head then pulled himself to his knees. He stood slowly but dropped back to one knee.

  The bell rang.

  “The win goes to Eagleton,” the referee announced.

  The crowd stood and cheered.

  Jack looked into the crowd and caught sight of his parents in the stands. His mom hugged Charles’s mom. They were both crying. That’s a good picture, Jack thought. The three families were very close, and they had only grown closer when Ben’s mother had passed away when he was a boy. All three fathers stood clapping with big smiles on their faces. Charles’s little sister, Sarah, and Ben’s older brother, Derek, also clapped energetically.

  The next hour or so was a bit of a blur. The trophy ceremony took place. After that Mr. Thompson accompanied the boys to the bleachers around the building’s edge. Jack thought both of his parents looked very proud, and he could still see a hint of tears on his mother’s cheeks.

  Mr. Thompson said, “All you parents have good reason to be proud of your children today. They fought hard and with honor.”

  Albert Ingle nodded and replied with a smile, “It’s a good thing you boys won because there’s a celebration back at Eagleton High just waiting for you to get there.”

  The students loaded onto their bus to travel back to the high school. Most of them were loud and rambunctious on the return trip after their victory, but Jack remained lost in his own thoughts.

  Back at Eagleton High School, more students, parents, and teachers waited. Everyone ate and talked, and the party entered full swing.

  Despite the fun of the party, Jack felt as though something were missing. When the party started to die down, Jack wandered through the school’s main hallway until he neared the end. The principal’s office stood on the right, and Dr. Taylor’s empty office remained on the left just past the lockers, where it had always been.

  Jack opened the door to Dr. Taylor’s office and stepped inside. The room had been emptied of most of Dr. Taylor’s personal belongings years ago. Only the pictures of him with the classes of which he had been a part still hung on the walls, and some of his old books still stood on the shelves. The new class coordinator had chosen to place her office in the school’s new wing, leaving this little room purposeless. Dr. Taylor had been a mentor to the three boys until they were ten. He would have been so proud to see me win the championship, thought Jack. He always believed that I could excel, and he pushed me to become better, and not just me, but everyone in our class.

  Dr. Taylor had essentially set the course of life for all of the students. He observed and befriended them in their early years, and since he was the class coordinator, it was his job to select all of the children’s classes. Jack owed all the hours of training in martial arts and fencing to Dr. Taylor, and his time in the chess club held some of Jack’s best memories. Charles and Ben also played chess well, but they were much less patient than Jack.

  No matter what other people said about Dr. Taylor being an antigovernment extremist, no student, parent, or faculty member at the school would ever believe it was true. Supposedly, before Jack was even born, Dr. Taylor had recruited a group of highly skilled students and computer hackers to hack into the government’s newly established DNA recording program for infants.

  After the Second Great Depression, the government had instituted many more restrictions and requirements to cut down on crime. Registering a DNA sample for all infants at birth was one of the new requirements. The government apparently discovered fourteen years after the leak had been established in the DNA database that Dr. Taylor was the one responsible and sent a team to arrest him. The boys were only ten years old at the time. Jack still vividly remembered the night when he saw the reporter on the news standing in front of the charred remains of Dr. Taylor’s residence.

  The reporter had gestured over his shoulder at the rubble and said, “The police have just informed us that Dr. Isaac Taylor, the alleged head of a ring of hackers who had been under close police surveillance, was just pursued into his home by federal agents and was killed in an explosion of unknown cause. The police just issued a statement that, moments before they breached the home’s perimeter, the suspect created a fire, possibly in an attempt to destroy incriminating evidence. The police speculate that the fire caused an unintentional explosion, which resulted in the utter destruction that you see before you. The police refuse to release any additional details at this time because of the ongoing investigation.”

  As a result of Dr. Taylor’s untimely death, no one ever had the opportunity to discover what his reasons might have been for hacking into the DNA database, and no one ever found out whether he was even guilty since he never went to court.

  Some people did not believe that he actually did anything illegal. Others thought he must have had a good reason for doing it since he had always seemed like such a good man. Who cares what he did before he came to this town, thought Jack. Maybe he was a bad dude who changed and tried to start over, or maybe he did have a good reason that we will never know. Maybe the explosion wasn’t an accident; maybe he was killed so he couldn’t talk. Jack shrugged. Dr. Taylor had always been there for Jack even though Jack was just a child.

  When Jack was six years old, he fell asleep on the playground after school, and his teacher thought he had gone home. When Jack’s parents called around to find out if anyone had seen him, Dr. Taylor volunteered to check the school grounds since he lived nearby. He found Jack under a large oak tree, which was part of the far side of the tree line bordering the playground behind the school.

  “Jack
, my boy,” he had said upon waking him. “I found you all the way out here. Your parents are worried. Let’s see if we can get you back to them.” Then as they walked, he told Jack about the importance of the bonds of friendship and asked why he had been alone. “Why weren’t your friends with you? Why didn’t they know where you were?”

  “I didn’t need them keeping track of me,” Jack had replied. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I see,” said Dr. Taylor. “Well, I say always keep your friends close, even if it’s not convenient, because almost nothing in this world is more important than your family and your friends. Treasure those bonds forever. I have given you a great gift today, son; you should always remember what I have given you.”

  “You’re right, Dr. T. My friends are important and my family, but I don’t see why they’re as important as you say.”

  “Well, one day when you are older, you’ll understand. Outside of the people close to me, the only other valuable thing in my life is my desire to make a difference.”

  “What do you mean you want to make a difference?” Jack asked.

  “My boy, everyone lives life, and some people even become famous or wealthy, but only a few make a difference. It’s easier than becoming famous or wealthy, and you can even make a difference in small ways. Sadly, most people are content with caring only for themselves, and they never make a difference for anyone else. Here come your parents; I called them when I found you. Your mother looks worried.”

  Jack now thought about what his old mentor had told him and said to himself, I also want to make a difference. Did I make a difference today when I won the championship? Maybe he had. But Dr. Taylor must have meant a bigger difference than that. I need to find a way to make a difference for someone else.

  Jack’s memories and thoughts were interrupted by the door opening behind him.

  “Hey, Jack,” said Charles. “Ben and I thought you would be here. Nobody else knew where to look, but we said we’d find you and bring you back to the party. What were you doing here anyway?”

  Like Jack, Ben and Charles had each changed into jeans and a T-shirt. Charles had a scratch on his neck that he had earned during one of his fights.