Home: Insight, #1.1

By R. D. Scott

A background story about Elizabeth Holder, her dreams, her goals, and finding Home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R. D. Scott
• Release date: Jun 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393190752

R. D. Scott

Retired policeman and retired private detective.  The golf got boring and writing took it's place.

Book preview

Chapter One

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I was fifteen when I got my ass kicked hard enough to require a trip to the emergency room.  The doctor was able to use only three stitches for the cut on my ear, but decided it was necessary to tightly wrap my chest beneath my breasts.  He explained that I had two cracked ribs on my left side and until they started mending I would feel pain for a week and then soreness for a month after that.  All because Jim Carne had stopped to speak with me and smiled.  His sadistic girlfriend took exception and attacked me after school at the side of the gym after a tennis practice.

I stayed out of school for three days, long enough to be able to walk and breath without stars appearing in my vision.  On the third morning I asked my grandfather for the name of some trainer in self defense that I could visit, because he was a retired policeman, he knew everyone.  He directed me to Wu Fang, a Korean restaurant owner that also held evening classes for nine and ten year olds to instill physical balance and mental discipline.  Gramps had not asked about my injuries, he realized it was a pride thing, but I gave him a brief description of events.

You know that revenge is not healthy?  He asked in a way that said he disapproved.

I don't want revenge, I want to prevent a repeat.  I answered honestly.  Of course he didn't need to know I was not above teaching sadistic girlfriends some manners.  That lesson I administered three weeks later, with the help of my Gramps police baton, one broken rib and a broken left arm, with a warning of worse if she didn't behave.

The next twelve months went by quickly, I was spending four evenings a week at Wu Fang's studio, learning as much as he was willing to teach me.  I had come to him with a list of different self defense techniques and asked his opinion about the styles.  I explained that most of what I wanted was defensive skills, but that I felt I should also learn the other types in order to understand fighting forms.

He gladly immersed me in his knowledge, especially as I put in so much time.

I learned parts of karate, judo, jujitsu, savate, but most of my instruction was in tae kwon do, a Korean martial art.  After a year of his tutelage, he informed me that my lessons needed to be reduced to once a week, he would teach me moves and I would be required to practice at home for a week.  I would then be tested and if I passed, I would be given a new move for the coming week.  I was now sixteen and determination was my middle name, (actually stubborn was closer).  My practices at home were almost obsessive, at least two hours a night.  I never failed Wu Fang's tests.

Then came the lesson that changed my life.  I entered the studio prepared to go head to head on the latest move I had been taught, instead Wu Fang asked me to stand with my back to the wall and observe.  He was about ten feet away and began a slow sequence, first he raised his arms level with his shoulders, then he raised his left leg toward the room behind him, and finally he bent at the waist until he was facing his right knee.  When he straightened up he stepped forward and stood next to me on the wall.

Now I would like you to close your eyes. He told me.  Good, now describe everything you can remember about this room.  I was speechless, I had not been concentrating on the room, my attention had been on his dexterity and balance during his move.  When I admitted as much to him, he gave a slow shake of his head.

You have failed this session, how will you be prepared for an attack if you ignore your surroundings.  When you feel able to be tested again, then return.  With that comment he walked away.

I was devastated, never had I felt so inadequate.  My immediate response was to find my grandfather, he always knew how to soothe my doubts and give me perspective on my problems.  He was easy to find, his routine was always the same, at this time of evening he was at a local cop hangout having a beer and swapping lies about life on the job.

I didn't have to say anything, he saw me come in and abruptly stood up and walked to me.  Taking my arm he escorted me out to a sidewalk bench and sat down, pulling me with him.

What's wrong, Baby?  He had been a great detective and had not lost his skill in reading people.  I took a breath and gave him a summary of my failure.  Oh hell, is that all.  Let's go home and fix it.  His confidence in his ability to correct my problem immediately released the weight of worry from my mind, it was going to be alright.

The next two weeks was a revelation, I had been going about my daily activities without any concern toward what the world around me was doing.  My grandfather had started small, sitting me in a room of the house and pointing out things I knew were there, but I had ignored as simply normal items.  He would point at a picture and ask the identities of people in them, then suddenly he would turn me away from the picture and ask for details, what were they wearing, what time of day was it, where had the picture been taken, what was in the background?

As I began noting details he demanded of me, I unconsciously began mentally taking pictures of my surroundings, my classroom, the cafeteria, the hallways, the neighborhood I walked through to get home.  I had been sliding through life without seeing the world I was passing by.  I was gradually forced by Gramps to describe my trips to the store, to face him in a restaurant and describe the other people, including the employees.  He then asked if I had ever seen him sit in public with his back to the door and when I told him no, he explained his desire to be aware of events and people around him.

I learned that lesson well, the next visit to Wu Fang I was able to describe the view from his front door while sitting on the mat in his studio, I had only to visualize the picture in my mind.

My senior year in high school, thanks to skipping sixth grade years before, came five months after my sixteenth birthday.  With some help from my councilors I had classes until noon at the high school and then took the subway to Georgia State for one of two classes each afternoon.  Monday, Wednesday, and Friday was Criminology and Tuesday and Thursday was Computer Science.

Four months after my seventeenth birthday, I graduated high school and enrolled in a full course of study at State as a sophomore, thanks to testing out of  basic freshmen courses, things like English, Math, and History.  I was ready to tackle any classes that would lead to my goal of being a police officer like my Gramps.

I had continued to visit Wu Fang weekly and by his advanced training methods I figured out my martial arts rating would be in the black belt range.  He would spar with me for an hour, then show me a new move or counter move and tell me each time that when I came for the next session he would use it to make me fail.

He had become a dear friend and to show my respect and love, I occasionally brought a gift of a small statue to add to his collection.  He always accused me of bribery to receive less humiliation on the mat.

In my second year at State I had worked late one evening in preparation for the Christmas break and found myself walking to the subway in near darkness.  My senses were shouting loudly that the lights should have been much brighter as I approached the toll turnstiles.  As I moved to scan my travel pass I heard a voice.

You want to come party with us?  The question came from my left, asked by a guy I recognized as a self proclaimed playboy.  Standing and smirking next to him were two of his hangers on, waiting for the fun to begin.  I was not about to be timid, bullies don't respect meekness.

No thanks, I don't play in the gutter.  My answer made his face turn red with anger and meanness.  He was close to an explosion.

I wouldn't if I were you.  Another voice, from my right, commented mildly.  I had not noticed the approach of the six foot, brown haired, man as he walked by.

Like hell I won't!  My antagonist yelled and threw a punch at me.  Not wanting to disappoint him, I stepped to one side as my leg shot forward ending between his legs.  His reaction to getting brutally kicked in the genitals was to grunt and fall forward, which was interrupted by my knee impacting his jaw.  I spun, shot my right leg out and up, letting my foot connect with the jaw of one of his admirers and to be fair and keep my balance my left palm ended up under the jaw of the other admirer.  The whole sequence had taken seven seconds.

I tried to warn you.  The receding voice came from the brown haired guy, who had not stopped and was now walking calmly toward the train that was entering the station.  Not caring about the carnage lying in the hallway, I hurried to catch the train and my audience of one.

Who are you and how did you know I didn't need any help?  I asked him as I got a better look in the bright lights of the subway car.

My name is Gary, and I knew because I inadvertently noticed you around campus.  You have a gymnast type of movement, but not the body, your balance moving from thing to thing is uncanny, like a dancer, and you scan your surroundings thoroughly.  His answer was complete, but completely confusing.

What do you mean inadvertently?  That answer might explain the rest of his statement.  He didn't respond immediately, just looked at me and then chuckled.

It took you a second and a half to figure out that what I said was superfluous except for the word inadvertent and you only required the one question, very astute.  He chuckled again.  I was leaving the library one day about a month ago, when you were entering.  You were so engrossed in some book that you failed to notice me in your way, but you automatically sidestepped then resumed your path without hesitation.  I was so amazed, I followed you.  That really got my attention, I had by this time learned to read a room.  If he really had followed me, it was not possible that I had not noticed.

That's not possible.  My thought jumped out before I could stop the words.

Sure it is, you scan for defense reasons, if there's no perceived threat you ignore what you see, until you see your original destination.  Again a chuckle.

I'm the least threatening person around so I fade into the background.  I took a deep breath, this would eventually be a topic of conversation with Gramps, but first I wanted more information and we were approaching my stop.

I can't let this get away, can we have a cup of coffee?  You need to explain more about my obvious habits.  I had reached a level of curiosity I hadn't felt since fifth grade.

Let's go by your stop to the next one, in downtown Decatur.  One block from the station is a quiet little diner, I'm really hungry, and we can talk.  He lifted one eyebrow in question.  I agreed and called Gramps