by James Tow
concluded and stepped back. I held my fist out to touch, but he took his out his mouth piece and spat on my glove. Smiling, he put his mouth piece back in and backed into his corner. I stayed in the middle and waited for the bell.
The loud ‘ding’ released the beast within my chest, and I felt light as air. Justin rushed in and reared back, with his right. Light on my feet, I hopped to the left—his punch missing by a foot and then some. I swung a quick and powerful haymaker of my own that crashed against his nose. He stumbled backwards and fell on his back—but he quickly got back to his feet. Blinded by fury, he continued with a frenzy of punches. Staying swift, I easily dodged each attack he launched.
I started to laugh when I noticed his already pathetic speed drastically declining. Every few punches he threw, I landed one of my own. Blood started dripping from his nose, and his eyes were halfway closed.
Somehow, he could muster enough energy to throw a combination of quick punches—it wouldn’t get him anywhere, but I was impressed. I landed a two-piece to his face, and he collapsed. Justin rolled around on the ground whimpering and groaning.
“1!” the referee called out. I started to walk around him as he struggled to get up. “2!” He finally got on his hands and knees. “3!” He started crawling toward me, and I squatted down where I stood. “4!”
“I admire your persistence, but it is only the first round,” I told him. “5!” “Get up. I know you can. You’re just debating whether you want to or not.” “6!” “It’s not worth it—to go out, knowing you have it in you to get up.” “7!” “Don’t give up. Go down fighting.” “8!”
He sat up on his knees, and slowly got to his feet. He controlled his breathing and stared at me triumphantly.
“That’s it,” I tell him as he puts his hands back up. As much power I could put into one hand, I swung my right arm—aiming for his face. The aftermath of the final blow sent him to the ground. Three rings of the bell signaled the end of the match.
I turned Justin over, and his eyes started rolling in the back of his head. Taking my gloves off, I slap him on his check and he comes too. Staring at me with beaten eyes, I smile and give him a nod.
Two judges picked him up, and walked him toward the door. From the outside, the crowd roars with laughter when they see the broken man. He needs that—humiliation builds character.
“Would you like to wait…” My corner man started to say.
“Let’s get it over with,” I told him. Seconds later, Hunter walks through the doors, and into the ring. He stood, lazily in his corner, and watched my corner man put my gloves back on.
“He’s dangerous,” the corner man told me. “Lightening quick, and extremely powerful,” he added. I took a second glance at Hunter, and it was hard to believe what I was just told. Hunter’s body was saggy and sloppy—not exactly full of grace. But I’ll take his word for it.
He just stared at me—not preparing for the fight. The referee told us to meet in the middle. Standing in front of me, I realized how much taller he was than I am. “Final bout boys. Five rounds with three minutes each, but seeing you two fight—it might not even last one. You know the rules, touch gloves if you want, and back into your corners,” the referee said and stepped back.
I held my fist out, and Hunter took it with his bare hands. He took a slight bow, and continued to stare. He squinted and examined my face further.
I took out my mouth piece with my spare hand, “Something wrong?” I asked him.
His face was incomprehensible. It looked like he wanted to say something, but held back. I tried to pull my hand from his grip—he held it tightly.
He opened his mouth, then smiled, and slowly whispered, “Paul…Reed.”
My shocked expression confirmed his claim. His smile got bigger, “It’s an honor,” he said and gave me back my hand.
“How…?” I tried to ask, but I was at a loss for words.
“C’mon guys!” the referee called out.
“I’ll meet you outside,” he said and walked out of the ring. “I can’t fight this man,” he told the judges and left the gym.
The judges, the ref, and the corner men glared at me with suspicious eyes. The referee walked up to me, grabbed my arm, and put in the air.
“Winner by default,” he said. He turned me to face the judges, and the judge on the far right said, “You’ve been awarded…25 points.”
Quickly, I took off my gear and threw my shirt back on. I was oblivious to the cheers that greeted me when I exited the gym. I searched for Hunter, who was on the opposite side of the street—waiting for me. I started walking toward him when Spenser, Ebben, and Keith bombarded me—jumping and shouting with joy.
“Knockout king!” Spenser said throwing my hand in the air.
“Thanks guys,” I tell them with appreciation. “Go wait by the truck…I’ll be right back.”
They looked around with confusion and headed for the Humvee—still jumping with excitement. I walked over to Hunter, who had his arms crossed over his chest.
“I heard you and your brother talking last night when you walked passed my tent. I heard him call you ‘Paul’ and you call him ‘Gabriel.’ You only, just now, confirmed my suspicions,” he told me.
I was unconvinced, “There are a lot of people named Gabriel and Paul out there.”
“Most Paul’s and Gabriel’s don’t carry the air of authority like you two do,” he replied.
I answered with a nod and a smile, “You didn’t tell anybody, did you?”
“Your secret is safe with me, Patton,” he said. “But why the secrecy?”
“We can’t let The Army of Apocalypse know we are here. We have a plan, and that plan will be compromised if they know,” I explained.
“I will honor that. But do you realize if you reveal yourselves…an army of your own will be at your disposal.”
I could only stare back at him. “With that being said, I’ll see you tonight,” he said and started to walk off.
“Why didn’t you fight me?” I asked him.
He turned around to face me and said, “I would rather fight alongside my heroes—than against them.” He turned and walked away.
It was 7 o’clock and the tent was empty—besides Spenser, Ebben, Keith, and I. They kept asking me to give them details on the two fights—I just told them I threw punches and they went down. All the talk of boxing gave them the urge to box themselves. They danced around the tent with shirts wrapped around their fists—throwing playful punches at each other.
Toni, along with four members of the crew walked inside with their heads down.
“Didn’t go so well?” I asked.
“No,” she said flatly.
“What did you choose to do anyways?” I asked.
“Brick toss,” she said and I laughed. “Don’t laugh! I bet you couldn’t do it!” she exclaimed.
“She only broke two panes of glass,” said the black kid everyone called ‘Hondo.’
“Shut up! That glass wasn’t regular glass—it was super duty stuff,” she said defending herself.
“I noticed when you threw the brick and it bounced back—hitting you in the leg,” Hondo said. I couldn’t help but laugh. “She was so out of place too. All the other competitors looked like body builders,” he said.
“So, how did you do?” Toni asked me.
“Two first round knockouts,” Spenser said and the crew’s lost hope was restored. “And he got extra points for getting the highest score on the punching machine,” Keith added.
“25 points,” I told them. They looked at me as if I told them I cured cancer. “We were walking around, seeing what others got, and the highest amount we heard someone get was 20 points,” Toni said.
Alyse walked through the tent—with excitement in her step. She ran to our corner to lie down on top of me and give me a kiss on the forehead.
“Pass your test?” I guessed.
She shrugged, “I did alright—only got 10 points. They expected me to fill out the periodic
table of elements! Last time I looked at that thing was a few years back.”
“Why so happy?” I asked.
“I finally got a hold of my parents. We are going to meet them at the announcements tonight!” she said and gave me a hug. “I’m guessing your boxing went well?” she said examining my face for bruises.
“25 points,” I told her.
“I knew you would get us plenty of points,” she said excited.
I gazed up at the ceiling, and Alyse asked, “What’s wrong?”
“The guy I was supposed to fight in the finals—he…” I started to say but realized everyone was staring at us. “I’ll tell you later,” I said. I just stared back at the crew.
“Lucky bastard,” Ebben mumbled.
“Lucky? I thought you were gay Ebben…?” Chris said as he walked inside the tent.
“How’d it go, muscle head?” Ebben asked him.
“Only fifteen points man—there were some serious juicers. But I still got third,” he told us.
“Paul got 25 points,” Toni told him.
“Nice!” he said and walked over to give me a fist pump. “I would give you a hug, or something, but it looks like you have a human leech on you already.” Alyse kicked him in the leg and he laughed.
“I’m kidding!”
I grabbed Alyse’s wrist and checked the time on her watch—“8:12,” I said. “Excuse me,” I told her and she rolled off my chest. I got to my feet, “Hey guys,” I started and they gave me full attention. “Why don’t you guys head down for the announcements, and we’ll meet you there—we’re going to wait for Gabriel.”
“Alright, we’ll save you and
