by Loren, Celia
The two men touch gloves and the fight is underway. I look up at the Jumbotron to see a close up of Austen's face. His left eyebrow looks slightly swollen, but otherwise he escaped from yesterday relatively unscathed, though I'm sure his muscles are tired. Not that you could tell from the light way he's moving on his feet.
"Why's he jumping away like that?" Maya leans over and asks me while keeping her gaze trained on the fight.
"Nordahl's trying to take the fight to the ground where he'll have the advantage because he's a champion wrestler. Austen's strength is striking, so he wants to stay standing up." Just as I finish speaking, Nordahl dives at Austen's waist and drives him down. The crowd gasps as Austen brings his hands to his face to protect himself while Nordahl gains the top position. I close my eyes. "I hate this. The ground and pound."
"Why doesn't the ref stop it?" Maya asks as Nordahl punches Austen's head, his fists trying to find an opening between Austen's arms to make direct contact with his skull.
"Austen's still defending himself," I reply, opening up one eye to check. "He—Yes!" I exclaim as Austen's legs shoot out. Nordahl let himself relax and Austen took full advantage, spinning his body around as he grabbed Nordahl's arm and pulled him into a Kimura. Nordahl grimaces and Austen tightens his grip. Just as it looks like he's about to tap out, the bell sounds.
"This is very stressful," Maya complains. "I wish we were old enough to drink, because I bet a beer would feel great right now."
As Austen confers with Duke and Raul, the crowd begins to murmur about a possible upset. Nordahl is the first person to get Austen to give up his guard, and everyone's wondering if this wrestling wonder could be Golden's first serious challenger.
The second and third rounds are more of the same back and forth between the two fighters. Thankfully, this tournament is keeping the fights to three rounds each because the fights are placed so closely together. First Austen gains an advantage, then Nordahl. As the seconds tick down in round three, it looks like the decision will go to the judges. But with twenty seconds left, Austen lands a jab cross combination that sends the exhausted Nordahl reeling back two steps. I watch Austen summon every ounce of energy he has left and drive a powerful uppercut into Nordahl's chin.
The crowd roars as Nordahl falls backward. The ref leaps forward and bends over him, then gestures his arms sideways: Nordahl's out. Austen yells triumphantly, then leaps onto the side of the cage, balancing himself with toeholds in the chain links. Everyone in the arena jumps to their feet with him, and I shake my head with a begrudging smile as Austen plays to his fans.
Today, unlike yesterday, the fighters aren't rushed off so that the next fight can begin. The ringside announcers interview both Nordahl and Austen, their faces broadcast on the Jumbotron above us. Nordahl is up and recovered, but doesn't remember the end of the fight. He watches the replay in disbelief, shaking his head at Austen's quickness. When they're finally shepherded out of the ring, the floor is mopped and dried to prepare for Krusov and Logan.
"You alright?" Maya asks as my leg bounces up and down uncontrollably.
"I don't know if I can watch," I murmur. The lights dim again and a spotlight illuminates the path from the locker rooms. Krusov stalks in with his team flanking him. He's greeted by some cheers, but I also hear booing mixed in. After he steps into the cage, the lights refocus and Logan is announced. To my surprise, his solo entrance is greeted by the most enthusiastic crowd response yet. He hasn't done a single interview, but he seems to have more fans even than Austen. I turn to Maya questioningly.
She smiles. "The only thing people like more than a hero is an underdog."
I grin momentarily, but wince as I see Logan's face close up as the cameras zoom in. One of his eyes is black and the eyebrow above it is laced with stitches from where it was split open during his last fight yesterday. Even a light hit will open it back up again, and the blood from it would obscure his vision.
I lean forward and put my face in my palms as the ref calls the two fighters together. I hear more booing from the crowd and peer through my fingers.
"Krusov wouldn't touch gloves," Maya reports. "Rude." I cover my eyes up again, wishing I could also block out the sound of the play-by-play. I hear the bell and my whole body tenses up. Maya gasps and I jerk upright.
"What? Is Logan OK?"
"Hell yes," she replies as my eyes dart around the cage, expecting blood spatter at the least. "Logan's making Krusov look so slow." I watch as Krusov pursues Logan around the cage while Logan dances back. "Logan's just dodging everything. He hasn't even thrown anything himself yet." I look up to the Jumbotron. I can see sweat dripping down Krusov's face. Logan's is still dry, if battered-looking.
"Maybe he's trying to tire him out. Logan's conditioning is so good that—" Logan's leg flies out and catches Krusov hard on the thigh. "Yes!" I scream out as the crowd roars its approval of this first contact. Krusov stumbles back but Logan doesn't push his luck. He waits for Krusov to launch himself forward again, then nails him again with a kick to the side. He doesn't throw any punches, not wanting to get close to this giant man.
Krusov can't touch him. Logan fights with renewed energy, dodging a punch and then springing back almost impossibly quickly. He doesn't forecast a single movement. Each kick seems to come out of nowhere and Krusov can't block them.
As the seconds tick down in the first round, the crowd leaps to its feet and I jump to mine, carried away with excitement by Logan's bravura performance. At five seconds, Logan lands a final kick, raising another welt on Krusov's now beat-up legs. The bell dings and I pump my fists in the air.
Logan takes a deep breath, lowers his hands, and turns around to his corner for the break. With a yell of anger, Krusov picks up his foot and brings it down on the side of Logan's knee.
Chapter Thirty-One
"No!" I scream as Logan falls to the floor. The arena falls into momentary silence, and then erupts in anger at the cheap shot. The ref jumps in between Krusov and Logan, angrily gesturing at Krusov to return to his corner.
I watch Logan's face as he stands up. He grimaces as he puts weight on his right leg, but then officials swarm the cage and he's cut off from view as someone pushes a chair forward for him to sit in.
"What the shit was that?" Maya exclaims. "They're not going to let it continue, right?" she asks turning to me, but I can only shake my head. I can see Dan Black conferring with the judges, then calling the referee down.
"I wish there were someone there with him," I murmur as I catch a glimpse of Logan pushing away a medic. Black's conference doesn't last long. He hands the referee a wireless mic, and I watch as his black and white uniform heads back into the center of the cage. The crowd quiets to hear the verdict.
"Due to an intentional late hit, Andrei Krusov is disqualified from competition. Logan Riggens advances to the final round." The crowd cheers and Krusov storms back to the locker room with his coaches, shoving cameras out of his face. With the cage a little clearer, I can see Logan still seated in the chair. The referee goes over to talk to him, and offers him his hand to help him stand up. Logan shakes his head – he doesn't need it.
As he stiffly rises, the crowd goes crazy. Logan's expression changes for a moment. It's as though he's hearing their support for the first time, and he's surprised. He glances around the arena, then gives a slight nod. The cheers follow him as he walks slowly down the steps from the cage and toward the locker room.
"Thank god he's alright," Maya sighs.
"I don't think he is," I reply shortly. "But he's not going to let on because then Austen will try to exploit it."
"Would Austen do that?"
"He'd be a fool not to. I can't believe it's really come down to the two of them," I groan. "And Logan's going into it in such rough shape. I don't think I can stay here and watch this."
* * *
An hour later, and I'm still sitting in my car in the parking lot. I was so determined to get as far away from this fight as I could, but no
w I can't make myself leave. I look at the clock. 4:02. The fight is already underway. I reach for my keys and turn the engine on to idle, then flip the radio dial until I find the local sports station that's covering the tournament.
"—and Logan Riggens blocks a jab but the cross makes contact. Austen falls back, looking for another opening. Logan comes up with a knee—Oh! Austen catches his leg and brings the fight to the ground. Austen's trying to get a good position, I can see Duke Riggens yelling at him to get the arm, but Logan's slippery. And they're back up. Both fighters looking a little tired—Austen with a big leg kick! Logan took that one hard on his right leg just about where Krusov hit him. He's definitely limping now—"
I flip it off again, feeling nauseous. I watch the clock. The first round will be over now, and Logan will be heading back to his corner alone, while Austen confers with their father. I turn the keys again and put the car into drive. But something stops me.
I feel like I'm abandoning Logan. He helped me so much, and now I'm just leaving him to lose? I don't want to be a distraction, but if he's already so far down, I probably can't make it worse, right?
Something clicks in my brain and I yank the keys out of the ignition. I grab my purse and go flying back toward the doors of the arena, shedding my inertia like a cloak. I head for the entrance to the VIP seats. It's the only way I'll get to the floor. I stop as I see an usher standing at the first row. The cage is so close, I can see the blood pouring from Logan's reopened wound without looking up at the big screen.
Austen steps forward into a quick combination that sends Logan stumbling back. Austen pursues him, pinning him up against the cage. Logan shields his face while Austen throws haymaker after haymaker. I jump on my toes, desperate to help him. I look back down at the usher. His eyes are glued to the fight. I take a deep breath and without another though, I rush toward the cage. I sail down the aisle. People on both sides of me begin to stand with excitement as the round draws to a close. I dart past the front row and am in the clear space just in front of the cage. I turn toward Logan's corner when I feel a hand grabbing my wrist. My head snaps back to see a burly security guard frowning down at me.
"Let go!" I yell, pulling back. A memory flashes in front of my eyes, and I find myself stepping toward him, bending my arm down until he releases it. He blinks in surprise and I turn back toward the cage just as the bell signals the end of the round. I see Logan slump against the chain link without even a coach to bring in a stool for him to rest on. "Logan!" I yell, hurrying the remaining few feet to him. I see him glance up in shock just as the security guard reaches for me again.
"How'd you get in here?" he gasps in confusion. Out of the corner of my eye, I see an image on the big screen on the side of the arena. One of the cameramen surrounding the cage caught my move and they're replaying it for the amusement of the crowd. I point up at it. He glances toward the screen and I wrap my fingers around the cage as the security guard tries to pull me off. Through his swollen lips, I can just see a smile as he recognizes me using the very first self-defense move he taught me. "Let her stay," he says, turning back toward the guard. "You here to tell me to quit?" he says, blood and sweat dripping down his face.
"I'm here to tell you that I know you can do this. I believe in you," I reply, standing on my tiptoes to get as close to his face as I can.
"You shouldn't," he murmurs, his shoulders slumping.
"Yeah, I should!" I argue fiercely. "I applied to college, Logan. I got a new job. I'm doing it, and it's because of you. You did that. You inspired me. You're the strongest person I know and I love you. You can do this!" He sways slightly, trying to focus on my face. His fingers drift down the metal cage and come to rest on mine. "It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Your father or Austen or anyone. You just concentrate on my voice, OK? I'm here for you. I forbid you to give up. Fight!"
The ref taps Logan on the shoulder, calling him back for the final round. His fingers press against mine as he turns around.
The two brothers run at each other full force, Logan’s face twisted in anger and Austen’s painted with a smirk. It seems as though Austen can’t believe his younger brother is even still trying, and in a moment of misjudged cockiness throws what he thinks to be the knockout punch.
Logan dodges under the blow and wraps his older brother up in a nasty rear naked choke. The two hit the mat with a thunderous crash, Logan straining with every ounce of strength left in his body to strangle the life out of his brother.
My heart jumps out of my throat and tears begin to well in my eyes as I see Austen reach with his right hand and frantically tap his brother’s arm in submission.
I meet Logan’s gaze as he jumps up in the ring, arms raised high above his head, a smile beaming from ear to ear.
Over the crashing cacophony of cheers he mouths to me, “I love you”.
I smile wide, “I love you too.”
And now I get to sleep with an MMA champ. Lucky me.
THE END
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