The Test, A Fierce Stone Novel #2

By T.L. Peters

In this second installment of the Fierce Stone trilogy, our youthful narrator must come to terms with living in a raucous family dominated by his volatile grandmother and in a violent world run by women, many of whom are out to kill him. In the process, he learns to hold his own in the Octagon, while his mother reveals her more gentle nature until the betrayal of a former friend compels her to once again display her warrior side.

"Full of wild action, this fast-paced thriller is packed with loads of fun and excitement for readers looking for a quick page-turner to keep them up at night."

"A great, futuristic thriller."

"I love Fierce Stone. She's all woman."

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.L. Peters
• Release date: May 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310424564

T.L. Peters

"There's no question that Peters is a master wordsmith." Gerry B's Book Reviews About the author: T.L. Peters is an ex-lawyer who enjoys playing the violin and giving his dog long walks in the woods. In between, he writes novels.

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The Test, A Fierce Stone Novel #2

By T.L. Peters

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014, T. L. Peters

Cover Design by C.K. Volnek, Cover Copyright 2014, C.K. Volnek

License Notes

This e book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

To read more about the author and his other books, please go to https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/tlpeters.

CHAPTER ONE

It struck me as a strange way for a family to renew acquaintances, especially between a mother and her daughter, but this is how it happened right before my young eyes. After a few hugs and kisses all around, my Gran, who seemed to go by the name Snowflake, remarked that my Mom looked a little soft.

Probably because of all those years of easy living, Gran added in a big, husky voice.

Granpap jumped in right away and said that it was too soon for fisticuffs and that Fierce needed a good rest after such a long and perilous cross-country journey. No one seemed to pay much attention to what Granpap said though, least of all Gran. In fact, she acted as if he wasn't even there and kept right on glaring at Mom. My Mom must have been expecting something like this, because instead of rolling her eyes and putting up a fuss, all she did was sort of frown and ask what the rules would be.

No rules, Gran sniffed. We'll take up the match in the basement. We replaced the boxing ring with an Octagon, you know, to keep up with the times.

But aren't you even going to say hello to your one and only grandchild? Granpap sort of grunted, rubbing his frail hand over my head. I felt like backing away from him because he smelled kind of funny, but I knew if I did Mom would get mad and so I hung in there right beside him. He looks like he's grown into a fine boy to me.

Of course he has, Gran sniffed again. He's my grandchild, isn't he?

Granpap shook his head glumly and tossed a sad glance at Joe. Joe didn't seem to have any more idea what was going on than I did, and so, like me, he wisely decided to keep his mouth shut. We quickly followed Gran into the house. It was a big roomy place inside with dusty hardwood floors and tables set up all around loaded with food. I wondered if they'd been expecting us, or whether they just ate an awful lot. I was sure that Gran needed plenty of high impact calories to keep her massive body in good operating condition. I could see now where Mom had inherited all her muscles.

Gran stood almost as tall as Mom and her shoulders were nearly as broad. She had the same long golden blond hair and striking green eyes. A few wrinkles had crept in around her eyes and there was a patch of loose skin under her jaw, but those were the only signs of age. She was wearing a gray top and a black bottom, much the same way Mom wore her clothes, skimpy and tight, and Gran's arms and legs bulged with hard mounds of rippling muscle. Her stomach wasn't quite as shredded as Mom's, but it was plenty hard and rugged.

I wondered if Gran and Granpap were the same age, because he sure looked like an old man as he limped along behind his strident wife. His shoulders were thin, his hands bony and trembling, and his bowed legs were so skinny that his trousers flapped around them like he was shuffling along in the middle of a wind storm. He had a twinkle in his eyes though, and every once in a while he would whirl around and give me a wink. I didn't know why he was winking at me, and it kind of creeped me out at first. But the better I got to know Granpap, I had to admit, the better I liked him.

There was no time for long conversations right then though. Gran was already hopping down the staircase toward the basement. I barely had time to grab myself a cucumber sandwich from the nearest table. I would have chosen something else if I'd had more time to look around and inspect the offerings, maybe a couple of hard boiled eggs and a turkey drumstick, or perhaps a steak sandwich and a handful of low fat fries, but I didn't want to miss whatever it was that would soon be happening down in the basement. The dog Samson must have been used to this kind of thing because right away he grabbed himself two steak sandwiches and laid down in a corner next to the kitchen to enjoy his feast. I was so excited and nervous by all the activity and my own expectations that I completely lost sight of Joe. Joe was keeping right up with the rest of us though, or at least he somehow made it down to the basement.

The basement was an amazing sight. It was the biggest gym I'd ever seen, even back when I was little before the world had gone to hell and there were still workout places on nearly every corner. Gran had everything down there you could think of to help you get and stay in shape—thousands of pounds of free weights stacked up high in metal plates of various sizes and thicknesses, treadmills and universal machines, gadgets to work your glutes and calves and biceps and triceps and about every other muscle you could think of, even your neck, which I guess explained why Gran had a neck as thick as an old oak stump, thicker even than Mom's neck, and to top it all off right in the center of the room was an octagonal glass cage about twenty feet across with the walls about fifteen feet high.

Gran marched right up to the cage, ripped open a glass door by grabbing and yanking on a thick metal handle and then motioned with her other hand for Mom to follow her in. Gran's hands were every bit as big and brawny as Mom's. The only difference was that Gran had more veins running through hers, especially between the knuckles, the sinewy channels cutting through the tough skin and bone like burly, winding snakes.

Mom shrugged and stiffened her frame as she trudged past Gran into the middle of the Octagon. As Mom passed by, Gran tossed her a queer look.

What happened to you? Gran shouted, pointing at the grimy patch still clinging to the side of Mom's nose. Lost a fight?

I'll explain later, Mom said, ripping the patch off and tossing it onto the bouncy canvas floor. I'm glad you reminded me of it though. I can take it off now.

Gran inspected her daughter's nose carefully, and then frowned.

It looks like you had some skin transplanted onto the side of your nose.

Skin cancer, Mom said. The surgeon doesn't have much skin there to work with, so he had to take some from my forehead. My bangs cover that up though.

Skin cancer, Gran replied, shaking her head. You must not be eating right.

Too much sun, Mom said, grinning.

Gran, however, was not convinced.

I spent years in the hot tropical sun in Mexico and Bolivia back in the old days when your father and I were running drugs and battling the cartels and I never got cancer. My advice is to eat cucumbers, plenty of cucumbers, the best thing in the world for the health of the skin.

I glanced at the moist circular green slices packed between the two thick slabs of multi-grain bread and took a big bite. Much to my surprise, my cucumber sandwich didn't taste half bad. Someone had generously sprinkled salt on the cucumber slices, which helped the flavor considerably. Just after I'd taken my second bite, Granpap shuffled into the Octagon carrying two pairs of big leather boxing gloves, which Gran quickly refused.

Fierce and I fight bare knuckle, Gran snorted. We always have. So get out of here before you get hurt. I can't afford to spend the next few weeks nurse-maiding the likes of you.

Granpap rolled his eyes and shook his head, but he voiced no verbal objection to his wife's rough instructions. The three of us, Joe, Granpap and I, quickly took our seats next to the Octagon. Joe whispered something in Granpap's ear, but I didn't catch it. I heard Granpap's reply though.

Don't worry, young fellow, Granpap said in a low, calm voice. You'll get used to it after a while.

Mom and Gran didn't waste any time. They squared off in the middle of the glass cage and started pummeling each other with jabs and crosses and upper cuts and a variety of spinning side kicks, all before I could barely get my breath. Each of the blows looked powerful and vicious and in my opinion would have been more than enough to kill most any normal person, man or woman, assuming there were any normal people left in this crazy world. But the punches and kicks appeared to have little effect on either of the combatants. It seemed like they were just warming up. But then Mom got things going in earnest by landing an overhand right squarely on the top of Gran's head. I was worried at first that Mom might have broken her hand, because the impact of the blow sounded like metal crashing onto metal, but instead Gran was the one who looked to get the worst of it and began staggering backwards.

I expected Mom to ease up a little, since Gran was so much older, but she surprised me by tearing into Gran all the more violently. In the space of a minute or so Mom threw and landed so many punches