On the Edge

by Kerry J Donovan

  Kaine switched to southpaw. Feinting in and out, side to side, forwards and back. He changed back to orthodox. Switching. Settled on southpaw, leading with a rapid right jab. Protecting his damaged left.

  Jab and move. Lead with the right.

  He needed his opponent off-guard. Needed to keep him guessing. Switched to orthodox again. Landed a right uppercut to the chin. Back to southpaw.

  Confused, Krüger roared. He threw a roundhouse left to Kaine’s head. He ducked. The blow missed by a mile.

  Move and jab.

  Snap kick, heel strike, punch.

  He faked a straight left to Krüger’s nose, but landed a right to the kidney and followed with a blur of kicks and punches to the head and belly. Krüger had no answer. He wilted under the onslaught, backed away, but didn’t fold.

  The man could take a blow.

  Save Lara, hurt him.

  He followed up two lightning-fast right jabs to the face with a butt to the nose.

  Backing up fast, Krüger slammed against a wall. He howled, used the wall for leverage, launched another attack. Arms outstretched, trying for a bearhug.

  Kaine ducked, slipped below the flailing, searching arms. He spun into a sweeping, roundhouse kick. His shin struck the side of Krüger’s knee. It cracked, snapped inwards.

  Krüger screamed, crumpled sideways, sagged against the wall.

  Kaine followed through, using all his momentum. He drove the point of his left elbow into Krüger’s temple. The back of his head smashed into the wall.

  The South African grunted. His eyes rolled up into his head, and his arms dropped to his sides. He toppled slowly towards the floor. Knees hit first, followed by the face. A felled tree.

  Save Lara, kill him.

  Roaring louder, Kaine leaned over the fallen man, grabbed a shoulder, and ripped Krüger onto his back.

  Blood, real blood not corn syrup, spilled from his smashed nose, and spread out over the battered, swollen face. Kaine dropped one knee into the man’s gut. Air rushed out. With his right hand, Kaine grabbed Krüger by the throat. He dug his thumb into Krüger’s jugular. Squeezed. Hard.

  Harder.

  Kill him!

  Krüger’s eyes opened. Wide, wild, staring. Terrified. He gagged. A bloodied, purple tongue snaked out from behind the split lips. His hands reached for Kaine’s, fingers scrabbling for purchase, trying to break Kaine’s crushing grip. He bucked, kicked, fought for breath. A gaggling, gurgling struggle against death.

  A losing battle.

  “You bastard!” Kaine screamed, his voice unrecognisable in its rage. “You fucking, bastard! I’m gonna kill you!”

  He tightened his grip. His fingers and thumb turned into claws, crushing Krüger’s trachea, trying to meet behind the man’s windpipe.

  “Ryan!”

  Blood pounded inside Kaine’s head.

  Die, you bastard!

  “Ryan, you’re killing him!”

  Lara’s hand on his forearm, warm and soft, shattered the spell.

  Oh, Jesus.

  Kaine released his death grip.

  Krüger’s head dropped onto the tiled floor, the crack loud in the quiet of the room. The beaten man curled into a floundering, foetal ball, crying, coughing, gagging—sucking in great whoops of air.

  Standing over the bloody, battered Krüger, Kaine stared at his trembling hands. Slowly, he curled his fingers into fists.

  He’d been close. So close to losing it completely. Madness. Insanity. Too damned close.

  With Lara holding tight to his arm, Kaine breathed deep and slow, trying to recover from the adrenaline-fuelled rage.

  Slowly, the red mist behind his vision cleared. He patted Lara’s hand.

  “Thanks, love,” he whispered, forcing his breathing to slow even further. “I’m okay now. Please, step back.” He spoke quietly and with more control than he felt.

  Lara shook her head, stayed close. Kaine met her eye and gave a short nod.

  “Really,” he said, opening his right hand—his left still didn’t work properly, “I’m okay now.”

  Gently, he raised his hand and cupped her left cheek, studying her closely. “Your face … the bastard hit you.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “A lucky blow. He barely touched me. It’s okay. Can hardly feel it. Honestly.”

  “Do you need an x-ray? He … might have broken your cheekbone.”

  “Ryan,” she whispered, “I’m fine. Don’t worry. No bones broken. Minimal swelling. I really am okay. What about you? You weren’t using your left hand—”

  “Wild first punch. I’ll mend.”

  Kaine raised the offending hand. He opened the fingers and turned it palm up. It trembled a little and the forearm hurt a lot, but it would heal.

  She stared down at Krüger. “I thought you were going to kill him.”

  Me too.

  Kaine closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. “The bastard hit you. He bloody—”

  “Ryan, I told you, I’m—”

  “I … I lost control for a while.”

  “Yes, I saw. It scared me.”

  “I’m sorry, but if I ever lost you …”

  “I know that, too. And I feel the same way.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course I do, you idiot. Honestly Ryan, for such a bright man, you can be awfully slow.”

  He tried to swallow, but found it difficult. “’Fraid that’s who you’re lumbered with. But I’m good now, love. Are you certain you’re okay?”

  She nodded and leaned against him, shuddering. They hugged, tight. He held for a long time. It felt good. Really good.

  Lara lifted her head and looked into his eyes.

  “Ryan …” She swallowed. “Thank you—you and that gut instinct of yours. I got a few punches in, like you taught me, but, without you, he would have—”

  He placed a finger to her lips.

  “I saw your work, love. Brilliant. And I’ve told you before. You never have to thank me for anything. I dragged you into this mess, and I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

  Tears filled her beautiful eyes, and she whispered, “I’d love to kiss you right now.”

  “So, what’s stopping you? Surely you’re not still worried about Dr Sloane’s reputation?”

  “You were the one worried about that, not me.”

  “True enough. So, what’s the problem?”

  He leaned nearer, stretching closer to her lips.

  “I’ve never kissed a man who’s wearing makeup. Not sure I fancy it.”

  Pulling away, he grinned. “Good point. This stuff tastes nasty. Let’s wait until we’re both cleaned up. You’re not exactly pristine, yourself.”

  “Hang on. Outside, you said I smelled like a field of wild flowers.” She pouted.

  “And you believed that old blarney?” Kaine allowed his grin to widen. “Didn’t realise you were so gullible.”

  “Shame on you, Mr O’Kelly.”

  “One little white lie isn’t going to—”

  At their feet, Krüger groaned.

  “We need to shelve this for later,” Kaine said, leading Lara into the middle of the room and making sure she was a safe distance away.

  Krüger rolled onto his other side. His whole body tensed, and he threw up into the corner between the floor and wall.

  “Charming,” Kaine said. “That’s such a mood killer.”

  As the seconds passed, Krüger turned to face the room. Slowly, his breathing recovered. He looked up from his position, huddled on the floor, and let loose. A guttural river of foul language exploded from his battered, pulpy mouth.

  “Fucking bitch! Fucking whoreson! You’re gonna fucking pay for this, you … you arsehole. I know people. Dangerous people.”

  The moron had no idea how close he’d been to death. Didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.

  Stupid, stupid man.

  Kaine loosened Lara’s hold on his arm. He touched her shoulder to keep her in place before clos
ing on Krüger.

  He dropped to one knee, grabbed a fistful of floppy, blond hair, and lifted Krüger’s head from the puddle of blood, snot, and vomit.

  He yanked harder, pulling Krüger sideways and away from the vomit-fouled wall. He drove a knee into the small of the South African’s back and tugged down, pinning him in place. A side-snap or a few kilos of added force would break the man’s neck. Krüger stopped struggling. He used his arms as a bridge to ease the pressure on his neck and throat, but still had to fight for each breath.

  “One more word, Krüger. One more bloody word, and I’ll end you, so I will.” Kaine reverted to his Irish persona, this time adding more grit, more menace.

  Fear flooded into Krüger’s deep blue eyes. He blinked and tried to turn his head away, but Kaine held him in position.

  “Apologise to Dr Sloane.”

  Krüger made a noise, but it came out a garbled mess.

  “Apologise, damn it!”

  “S-Sorry, I’m sorry. P-Please …”

  Kaine released Krüger’s hair, stood, and moved around to the front of his captive. The Afrikaner tried to scramble away, hands and feet sliding on the wet tiles. Kaine grabbed the hair again and Krüger stopped struggling.

  “Ah now, what the hell am I gonna do to ye? Hey?”

  “Wha—”

  Kaine slammed the back of Krüger’s head into the wall, hard enough to stun but not to damage. Not enough for him to lose consciousness.

  “I asked you a question. What am I do to with you?”

  Krüger tried to speak, but Kaine cracked his head against the wall again.

  “Don’t you recognise a rhetorical question when you hear one, dumb-arse? Now then, if it were up to me, I’d snuff you out like a candle, but the good doctor here has sworn an oath to protect people. She’d probably be upset if I sent you home to your family chopped up into tiny wee pieces. Isn’t that right, Dr Sloane?”

  Kaine turned Krüger’s head and let him watch Lara’s nodded response, although his vision would have been severely compromised by the swelling. Thanks to Lara’s blows, the South African’s right eye had already fully closed and the left wasn’t in much better condition. His once-straight nose had spread wide across a face that was covered in blood, running with snot, and speckled with puke. What had once been a handsome man would terrify small children for quite some time. At the very least, he’d probably need treatment for a displaced and fractured septum. Not that Kaine cared about the man’s recovery.

  If not for Lara’s intervention, Krüger would no longer be drawing breath.

  For her part, Lara played along.

  “Actually, don’t mind me,” she said, shrugging. “To be honest, I’m sorry I stopped you. I saw the look in Krüger’s eyes when he attacked. Pure evil. I doubt the swine would’ve stopped at rape. He’d have probably ended up killing me. Do whatever you like. I’ll swear you were acting in self-defence.”

  Krüger squirmed, grabbed at Kaine’s hand, trying to weaken the hold. Kaine tapped Krüger’s head against the wall again, this time only hard enough to gain the man’s attention.

  “Hey, man,” Krüger whimpered. “I-I wasn’t really going to hurt her. Honest I wasn’t. Only wanted to frighten her. Got mad after what that black bastard, Jensen, said. I’d never have hurt Dr Sloane, not really. Honest.”

  “Ah there you go, now,” Kaine said, fixing what he could see of Krüger’s eye with a steely glare. “My dear old father told me never to believe a liar when he says he’s being honest. It’s become one of my golden rules, so it has.”

  In a flash, Kaine released Krüger’s hair and sprang to his feet. Krüger coughed and spat on the floor. Pink saliva mixed with the rest of the blood.

  “Get up!” Kaine said, barking out the order in the manner of a parade ground drill sergeant.

  Krüger paused for a moment, then struggled to climb to his feet. Eventually, he stood, wavering unsteadily. One arm outstretched, hand flat to the wall, using it for support. He faced Kaine and Lara.

  Silence grew around them.

  “You’re in so much trouble, man,” Krüger said thickly. He tried to glare at Kaine, but the swelling around his eyes made the expression hard to read. It actually lent a touch of comedy to the scene.

  “Really? I’m in trouble?”

  “You are a stupid mick,” Krüger added, the damaged lips and a cracked tooth making him lisp. “You’ve got no idea who you’re dealing with here.”

  Kaine glanced at Lara, who shrugged, clearly not expecting Krüger’s change from abject defence to pitiful defiance. He took a pace closer and slapped the back of Krüger’s head hard enough to make the man stagger. Krüger threw up his arms in a pathetic attempt to defend himself from yet another unanswered blow.

  “Get real, Krüger. You are a nonentity. A snivelling coward.”

  “Fuck off, you arsehole!” Krüger screamed, spittle and blood spraying. “You’re a dead man. When I get out of here, I’m going to have you and this doos”—he jabbed a finger at Lara—“slaughtered. You hear me?”

  Kaine’s gut punch doubled Krüger up and had him coughing, struggling for air once more. He followed up the punch with a kick to the groin. Krüger sank to his knees again.

  The idiot would never learn.

  Kaine stood back and let the Afrikaner recover a little before deigning to reply.

  “Don’t be so sure about that, Krüger. I know who your father is. More to the point, I know who your uncle is, too. Your mother’s brother.” He paused to ensure he had Krüger’s full attention. “I don’t think nasty Uncle Eugene is going to be at all pleased to hear about what you’ve been up to. You’re supposed to be here incognito, you ignorant buffoon.”

  Krüger opened his eyes as wide as the swelling would allow. “Y-You know about my uncle?”

  Kaine nodded and started the explanation, more for Lara’s benefit than for Krüger’s. “Eugene von Röngestaad, deputy leader of the AWB—the Afrikaner Weerstandsbeweging. The AWB is run by a lunatic bunch of South African neo-Nazi separatists, their primary goal being to set up a white homeland in the Transvaal.”

  “Really?” Lara asked, stepping alongside Kaine, standing close enough to brush shoulders.

  “Yes,” Kaine answered, making sure to keep between her and the neo-Nazi scumbag. “Are you terrified?”

  “Of this fool? Hardly.”

  Krüger growled but Kaine raised his finger for silence. Krüger snapped his mouth shut and winced in pain. He probably suffered at least one cracked tooth.

  Serves him right.

  Kaine continued talking, again mainly to Lara. “According to my source—”

  “Our man in the Hawaiian shirts?”

  “Yep, he’s the very man I mean. Shall I continue, my dear?”

  “Please do.”

  “As I was saying, our source intercepted some internet traffic last night. It turns out that our friends in the AWB are planning some rather unpleasant insurgent activities in a month or two. They wanted some medical backup, which is why they enrolled this clown on the combat medic course. Although how a man this stupid ever qualified as a medical doctor is anyone’s guess. Standards at the University of KwaZulu Natal must be slipping.”

  From his position on his knees on the floor, Krüger pulled back his shoulders and tried to look dignified.

  “I came seventeenth in my class—out of eighty-two.”

  “Let’s hope you never have to treat anyone in the real world,” Lara said, noticeably unimpressed with his boast, or his medical chops.

  As she spoke, Krüger slid a glance at the shattered door, but stopped moving when Kaine waved a finder in his face.

  “According to our intel, Daddy Krüger is trying to persuade Uncle Eugene to make his son the Health Minister for the new homeland. Can you believe that? He’ll probably start by offering trauma care for the paramilitary wing of the AWB when they launch their terror campaign. Interesting, eh?”

  At his side, Lara shook her head. “I�
��d call it lunacy.”

  “Agreed. That’s what the South African Minister for the Interior said in his reply to my email this morning.”

  “Really?” Lara asked.

  “Well, he used slightly more colourful language,” Kaine answered, “but the gist was pretty much the same.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  Kaine returned his attention to Krüger. “I wonder what Uncle Eugene is going to say when we tell him how young Hardy here drew attention to himself like this.”

  “Wouldn’t be too impressed, I imagine.”

  “Ah now. I wouldn’t have thought so. And then we could tell him how Hardy was beaten to a pulp by one of his fellow students while trying to assault her. And all this while Uncle Eugene and the AWB are trying to fly below the radar … at least for the next month or two.”

  Krüger folded in on himself. He appeared to deflate before their eyes.

  “Don’t … Please, don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t say anything. I-I have money. I can pay—”

  Kaine stepped closer to the abject bully, who cringed under his baleful glare.

  “Do you never listen, eejit? Didn’t I just get finished telling you how I was one of the richest men in the whole of Ireland? I don’t need your money.” He’d had more than enough of the blustering toerag. “What I do need, is for you to push off out of my sight before I get angry again. Go on, now. Away with you.”

  Behind them, the broken door screeched open to the only other female course attendee, who seemed in as much need of a shower and a change of clothes as Kaine and Lara.

  She took one look at Kaine and Hardy, before checking the sign on the door to make sure she’d entered the correct changing area.

  “What on earth—”

  “My apologies, dear lady,” Kaine said. “My friend and I seem to have stumbled into the wrong changing room by mistake. We’ll be on our way, right now.”

  “Your face,” the newcomer said, studying Krüger closely. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, yes,” Kaine answered for Krüger. “He’s perfectly fine, my dear. The makeup and this fake blood’s so realistic, isn’t it? You’d think my friend here had actually broken his nose, wouldn’t you?”

  He dipped his head to the woman and to Lara, said, “Good day to you now, fair ladies,” and took Krüger by the upper arm, digging into the soft tissue inside the biceps.