Bad Dad

by Sloane Howell

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  I thought back. The day Hastings grabbed my ass Landon had disappeared. He’d said that he’d taken care of it. I’d seen Hastings since then and he didn’t look like he’d been beaten to near death. Anything Landon did probably paled in comparison to the shit Hastings had put me through.

  “Hastings is one to talk. Did he tell you what he did to me? And I don’t care.”

  “Well, this will follow you around. Things like this don’t go away. They say if you resign they won’t disclose anything to other potential employers. But if you don’t, they’ll make sure you don’t teach anywhere again. Ever.”

  I couldn’t deal with that shit right then. “Why are you calling me right now? You know Landon’s about to fight.”

  “They told me to call at this time.” He paused. “Shit,” he muttered. I didn’t think he meant for me to hear that part.

  He must’ve said more than they wanted him to. And who were they? Hastings didn’t have that much power over Williams. His wife was only one person on the school board. It dawned on me all at once. They wanted to get to me to get to Landon. It was the Edmon guy. They probably thought I was ringside or in a locker room with him. Anything to create some extra doubt in his mind. Landon had mentioned it all in front of the elevator when we’d run into him. Said that he’d interfered with me.

  “Fine, I’ll resign. I’ll call you next week to talk.”

  I hung up before he could keep me on the line any longer.

  “Everything okay?” Janet glanced over.

  I wrapped my good arm around Logan’s shoulder. He’d been glued to the TV the whole night. The last fight before Landon’s had ended. They were wrapping it up on the screen.

  I looked around at all of them and back to the TV. A million thoughts swirled through my head. Why were we there? In the room? The man we loved needed us and we sat in the comfort of a suite while he battled for his life. No.

  No!

  I looked down at my shoes. Blue Chucks, red laces. One foot in front of the other. One step at a time.

  I stood up.

  “Grab your stuff.”

  Janet’s eyes bugged out. “Where are we going?”

  I nodded to the TV. “Down there.”

  “But—but—Landon and the plan. No—”

  “We need to be down there for him. He thinks he can carry the whole world on his shoulders, but he needs us too. And I’ll be damned if we aren’t going to be there for him. Now both of you get up and let’s go. The man we love is putting his life on the line for us. We will be by his side.”

  I stomped toward the door and turned around in front of it.

  Janet sat there, catatonic. Logan stared up at me.

  I gritted my teeth. “Now!”

  They both jumped to their feet.

  CHAPTER 42

  Landon Lane

  ALL ALONG THE WATCHTOWER BLARED through the speakers. The announcers’ voices disappeared right before it came on.

  “Time to do this, asshole.”

  I nodded at Joe. “Yeah.”

  His brow furrowed into a V. “That’s it?”

  “Yeah!” I roared it at him.

  He gripped me by the shoulders and his eyes were wild. I saw the waves in them—the auroras, the volcano.

  “It’s time, soldier.” Joe grinned and pushed his shades up his nose. He looked over at the man with a headset on, directing us.

  The guy motioned for us to head down to the arena.

  Joe turned to him. “I’ll be back,” he said in a Schwarzenegger voice.

  We pushed through the curtains and the crowd went bananas. Cameras went off throughout the arena as we stalked toward the empty ring. It was pitch-black, and each flash was like a star blinking out of existence.

  The music pounded in my ears and I could hear the waves slamming the beach. The fighting ring lit up with a spotlight in front of us. Hell’s Island. I stalked straight toward it without an ounce of fear.

  People reached for us on both sides, but all I saw was a volcano somewhere south of New Zealand, just off Antarctica, where darkness ran six-month marathons.

  I stormed right toward my past and left the future on hold. Had to face it. End it. For the next half hour I’d battle every one of my demons, and I would win. I had to win. Where I was from no longer defined me. I’d ran from it, hid from it, convinced myself it’d never find me. But it did. I was staring it down and I wasn’t afraid of it anymore. My heart pounded, and adrenaline burst through my veins. I thought about what Joe’d said behind the curtains. He was right. We’d be back. But we had some shit to take care of first.

  The gate swung open and I jumped up into the octagon.

  All my information rang out over the loudspeakers. A man yelled it into a microphone in the middle of the ring.

  The music cut off when he was done.

  No music for Sid. Nothing.

  I stood there and glared at the curtains. The wait crushed me with anxiety. They parted, and the air sucked out of my lungs.

  He stomped through. Slow and methodical. I hadn’t seen him in person in over twenty years. Last time he’d rained iron fists down on me from a night sky.

  He was cloaked in a black robe, completely covered, but I could make out the fiery red rims of his pale irises trained on me from under the hood. Edmon’s gangly body walked awkwardly next to him. I wondered who was pulling the puppet strings.

  The place was bedlam, but there was an eerie silence between Sid and me. I knew he felt it too.

  He climbed into the ring and my intestines wrenched themselves in a tight knot. He stood there, arms at his sides, hood pulled down over his face.

  All the Grim Reaper needed was a scythe. His nostrils flared like he smelled fresh blood in the air.

  The devil climbed in next to him, ready to collect his most prized soul.

  I glanced to my right and saw Joe had climbed in next to me.

  The four of us stood there and glared for a long minute. There was nothing like a family reunion on national TV.

  The referee climbed in and walked to the center. He motioned for us to walk out and meet in the middle.

  All four of us stood our ground. Nobody moved. It sent a clear message. There were no Geneva conventions, no rules of engagement. It was going to be a bloodbath.

  The referee stood there for a short while, unsure what to do. Then he shrugged and barked the same orders he always did. Words that didn’t mean shit. He didn’t have the power. Sid and I were about to find out who had it and who didn’t.

  Edmon licked his lips. He and Joe backed out of the ring.

  The referee made his way off to the side. The train tracks were clear. It was time for a collision.

  Sid and I shrugged off our robes and tossed them out of the cage.

  Sid was absolutely ripped, a statue chiseled out of marble. Every muscle on his body was specifically engineered to destroy me and anything else in his way. The corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk. Maybe there was a soul in there after all. Something that could feel.

  It gave me hope.

  The referee screamed, “Let’s go!”

  It was time for blood.

  CHAPTER 43

  Landon Lane

  EVERYTHING IN MY BODY WANTED to tighten up. Every muscle wanted to flex. I willed myself to relax. Staying calm and loose was the key to winning a fight. When muscles constrict and panic sets in, it restricts motion. You can’t move as fast. Reaction time slows. Ask any professional athlete. Relaxation. Loose limbs. You have to train your body and your mind to do it.

  I stalked out toward the center. Sid came at me like a bull. Fire in his eyes. Kill or be killed. Darwin ruled Hell’s Island.

  I didn’t even see it coming. Lightning fast.

  I was on my back before the signal in my nerves traveled to my brain and told my body what just happened. His fist had come out of nowhere. Maybe from Mount Olympus.

  If he’d hit me full force, I migh
t’ve been dead.

  My head throbbed. I tasted metal in my mouth. My nose was broken at the very least, but I was conscious, barely. Fuzzy stars filled my line of sight.

  I took my time getting up.

  They wanted the fight to last more than one punch. He hadn’t hit me with everything. Probably nothing more than a love tap for him. I rose to my feet and staggered around a bit.

  “You okay?” The referee grabbed both of my forearms and shook me.

  Sid had stomped back to his corner and stood there, waiting. Edmon beamed at him like he was a prized racehorse.

  I nodded at the referee.

  The crowd roared back to life. Nobody had taken a Sid punch and not ended up in a hospital, and he’d definitely hit me harder than he’d hit anyone else in his previous fights. I knew Joe was paying attention and one thing worked in our favor—we had real-time data. Every punch Sid threw, Joe would log it all in his brain. Every muscle, every action. He was an observation machine.

  I needed to make it through round one. Protect myself until then. Hopefully, Joe would spot something. Anything that hadn’t shown up on paper.

  We walked back out, and Sid smirked—barely, nothing but a slight hint of emotion on his lips. I threw a punch, but I hadn’t planned on it hitting. It was just to see how he’d react. He dodged it easily. We circled around and then he came on stronger. His fists pistoned into my ribs. At least five blows in under a second. His arms had to look like a blur to people watching. I shook violently like I was tied to a pole and shot up by a firing squad of machine guns.

  Sid came across with a left hook. It felt like he smashed a cinder block over the right side of my face.

  I toppled over. The left side of my head pounded the mat nearly as hard as his fist had hammered my right jaw. His follow through was like a knife cutting through butter, like my body had put up zero resistance.

  My brain jarred against my skull. Intense throbbing pain. I imagined it was like running headfirst into a subway car wearing a football helmet.

  I pawed at my head and writhed on the mat. My ears rang, and I couldn’t hear anything else. One of my ribs had cracked, I thought. I could still breathe, so it hadn’t punctured a lung. I stretched my arm over my head and realized my rib hadn’t broken, it’d dislocated.

  I let out a scream that I couldn’t hear. Stretched my arm up harder and pushed in with my other fist until it popped back in place. The pain subsided.

  I looked up at the clock. It read 3:25 and slowly ticked down. I’d lasted a minute and thirty-five seconds so far. Time seemed to stand still in the ring with the monster. I stared at the clock again. Each second was like an hour. I stayed down as long as possible to run out some more time. I needed to make it to the bell.

  If Sid had wanted to finish me off, he’d have already straddled me and pummeled my head until the lights went out. He’d been told to batter me, but not finish me off yet. It was the only explanation. I was sure they had a huge spectacle planned for my demise. My eyes rolled over to Edmon. He gazed reverently up at Sid and basked in his creation. Wouldn’t even look at me.

  I glanced to Joe. He just stood there with a blank stare. Like he’d been right all along. He knew it was an impossible task, no matter how hard I trained.

  “I have to call this. You can’t go on.” The ref stood in front of me.

  If he only knew what Sid and I were capable of withstanding. This was just a warmup. I pushed to my feet. “I’m fine.” Blood shot out of my mouth when I said the words.

  I looked at Sid and grinned. Waved him on with a hand.

  It was pointless. I was pretty sure he didn’t have emotions, and if he did it would take more than a petty taunt to activate them. But it put on a show for the crowd. Adrenaline coursed through my blood when they roared to life. I stayed loose. Being the favorite of the crowd was an advantage, and I could use anything, regardless of how minute, that would work in my favor. I pushed the pain away with my mind. Pain is all in your head.

  “Okay.” The ref backed away up against the cage.

  We came back out and circled up. Had to be about three minutes left. I started a mental timer. Three minutes. If I was in a park with Logan three minutes would go by in three seconds. In the octagon with the beast, it’d be the longest three minutes of my life.

  I watched his soulless eyes for a clue.

  Focus.

  He swung with a hard right and I dodged it.

  Minor victory, but a victory nonetheless.

  He came back with a left and hammered my face. My jaw crunched against his fist and I was pretty sure he’d just broken it. Blood misted in the air from my mouth and a stream of crimson splattered on the mat. He hit me three more times on the way down before I smashed against the ground.

  He didn’t back off this time though. His weight crushed my back and he wrenched my head up. I couldn’t move. Thought he might’ve severed my spine. I couldn’t feel my legs.

  I looked straight ahead. There was a camera.

  He’s going to kill me in front of the world.

  I lay there at his mercy, head torqued in one of his hands while he hammered me. One, two, three, four, five—the same thing Joe had done to me in the yard in front of Cora and Logan.

  I collapsed into a pile. My legs still moved but barely. I didn’t feel any pain in them, just tingling. Everything was blurry. If I focused on one object I saw three. If I made it through round one I wasn’t sure there would be any brain activity left in my skull.

  The ref was on his belly looking into my eyes. “No, no, I have to call this.”

  I pushed up to my knees and tried to gather myself. I shook my head. “No!”

  Edmon stared. It wasn’t a look of evil. He didn’t look like he wanted me destroyed. He looked like he pitied me. Like I was garbage. A disappointment.

  I tried to focus on the clock above. I saw three of them too. They overlapped and morphed into a blur. I squeezed my eyes shut and reopened them. Tried to will my vision back to normal. It worked.

  The clock above read 1:20. I didn’t know if I could take another onslaught of blows. I stood to my feet and my whole body was numbed over. I dizzied and backed myself up against the cage to help hold me up.

  “You have to hit him, asshole.” Joe’s words came from behind me. It sparked something deep down. Shocked me back to life like jumper cables.

  I couldn’t hit him, but I needed the boost if I wanted to survive to the second round.

  Three rounds of five minutes. That’s what we were working with. It was usually five rounds for title bouts, but ironically the biggest fight of all time wasn’t even for a championship belt. Sam still held the title.

  “I gotta keep this thing moving.” The ref dropped his hand apprehensively and cringed.

  Sid took his time. Fifty-five seconds were left. Maybe I’d survive the round after all. Maybe they wanted him to keep me alive and then kill me off at the end.

  The last fifty-five seconds was hell on earth. He pounded me with at least fifteen shots to the head and ribs. Right when the bell sounded he leveled me with a crushing blow. Harder than I’d ever been hit in my life.

  The lights went out and I was pretty sure death was right around the corner.

  CHAPTER 44

  Landon Lane

  “GIVE ME YOUR HAND.” THE voice cried out among the crashing waves.

  I didn’t know how he’d even found me in the middle of the stormy, dark sea. The boat had rocked hard and thrown me over the side. We were on our way to America. Left the island on a freighter boat that carried supplies. He’d hidden me in a box meant for rifles and hammered one-by-fours diagonally across each side to seal it up. I breathed through the gaps in the wood. I stayed inside the box for twenty-four hours before he opened it up and let me out.

  “Give me your hand, Son!” I reached out into nothing. Couldn’t see. Body completely numb from the frigid water. Waves crashed on my head. Thunder rumbled, and rain pelted my face. I started to sink. My face
went under, and the top of my head followed. Right when the world started to fade, he gripped my fingers and hauled me back up onto the boat.

  THE WORLD CAME BACK INTO view and the pain tried to rush in all at once. I roared and slammed my feet down into the mat. Thrashed against the side of the octagon like a caged bull. I didn’t know where I was, who I was. It overloaded my system. Joe stood in front of me crouched down.

  “Wh-what h-happened?” I had a hard time remembering how to speak. I shivered from the frigid ocean water like I was still there. Freshly hauled up onto the boat. The hot air in the room pricked at my skin and it flushed as the blood circulated back through my body.

  “He hammered your ass. Lucky break for you. They’re arguing over there to see if the blow came before or after the bell. We need to call this off. New plan.”

  I gripped him by the collar of his shirt and tried to focus his three faces into one. “No. Not over. What’d you see?”

  My wits came back. Not nearly fast enough. Being knocked unconscious did that to you. I needed them to argue over at that table a little while longer.

  “Nothing. He’s flawless.” Joe shook his head.

  “Think!”

  “Why, asshole? Come on? This can’t be won. Maybe we can win a different battle. Just let me call it off.”

  I glanced over at Edmon. He was smiling and shaking hands with WMMA people.

  Sid sat across the way on a stool by himself, unscathed. Untouched. He stared off at something on the horizon.

  “Think!”

  “I can’t let you die in there. I can’t do it.” Joe shook his head.

  I’d never heard his voice take that tone before. It was shaky.

  “I’m fine.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and then back to me. “I can’t, asshole. I can’t let you go back out there.”

  I looked over and he tried to block my view, distract me. I shoved him out of the way. What was he hiding?

  Then I saw them. My chest constricted, and my lungs forgot how to function.