by JT Pearson
wouldn’t fight her even if there were two of us?”
“Hell yes I’m that scared of her. Even together we’re no match for her. We’ll just have to find another solution, Jackman. Maybe the guards will step in.”
“They never get involved in honor duels. You know that. It’s tradition. She’s going to stomp me to death and I’ll be dead and you’ll have nobody else to talk to at night. How’d you like that to happen?”
“Well, I’m sure they’d issue the west side another guard at night. It wouldn’t be like I had nobody to talk to anymore.” I suddenly noticed the way Jackman was looking at me. “But I’d much rather it was you that I talked to each night. Don’t worry, Jackman. We’ll figure something out.”
The next day in the courtyard a crowd had already gathered, anticipating the fight. It was still dark but the lights that lined the inner perimeter of the courtyard gave ample light. The random pattern of the lights reminded me of when I was a child and could look up at the stars. The four guards on duty had made themselves scarce, like Jackman had said, respecting the honor code, and probably just as afraid of Beasta as Jackman and I were. The mob surrounded Jackman while Beasta, all seven foot three and two hundred seventy pounds of pure mean, readied herself for the fight. She had her hair tied and braided and she wore her denim work jacket and steel toed boots. She moved from side to side, shadow boxing, and building up a lather of sweat and loosening her muscles. I decided to play my last card. When she stopped moving I slipped my arm around her waist and leaned into her ear. I ran my other hand down the side of her hip, caressing her.
“Sometimes sexy big women like you need a little lovin’ too, eh, Beasta? What do you say we let Jackman walk today and me and you work something out?”“
“Get the hell off me! You wanna end up just like your punk friend?”
She picked me up over her head and launched me at the interior wall of the courtyard while the crowd watched in awe. I sailed about twenty feet before I slammed into the wall upside down and then dropped on my head. I awoke choking, my vision temporarily blurred, but I quickly regained my bearings. As I got to my feet I touched my mouth and realized that it was one of my teeth that I had been choking on.
“Mom, please don’t do this to Jackman. He didn’t mean to insult you. Mom, please. He’s my friend,” begged Shane, pulling on Beasta’s jacket. She backhanded him and he landed face down in the clay. It momentarily silenced the crowd. An old woman braved Beasta’s wrath and checked on the child.
“Anybody else want to join Jackman today? The kid’s mine! I’ll do whatever I damn please with him!” The terrified crowd stood silent.
Beasta stepped into the circle where Jackman waited. I struggled through the crowd and got close to him one last time.
“It’s going to be okay, Jackman. Just try to stay away from her reach and move around for a while. Get her tired.”
Hands in the crowd ripped me away from Jackman and a couple of others shoved him toward Beasta. He did as I suggested and did a lot of moving from side to side which really seemed to irritate Beasta. After they had moved around the entire circle a couple of times someone in the crowd put there foot out and caused Jackman to stumble. That was all Beasta needed. She lunged in with a straight right that caught Jackman high on the chest and sent him flying as if he’d been hit with a passing jousting spear. The noise made by the punch sounded more like she’d struck something solid, not flesh. She dragged Jackman to his feet and yanked up his shirt.
“This fool’s wearing his body armor.” She lifted him by the neck with both hands and choked and shook him. The crowd got louder, some people cheering, others screaming. “Did you really think that was going to help you?” She threw him, his body pin wheeling through the air until it bounced off the ground and rolled to a stop. He was groggily getting to his feet when she brought her forearm down on him, plunging him back into the dirt.
“Please, he’s had enough,” Sherri Tate begged from the crowd. I think Jackman was right. I think Sherri might’ve actually been keen on him.
Beasta raised her boot to bring it down on Jackman and crush his skull when suddenly the dog, Jackman’s dog – sort of, with his bat-like ears and one good eye flew into the circle and locked his teeth around Beasta’s ankle, biting and pulling as she hopped around trying to shake him free. The mutant was determined not to let go even though Beasta was beating the vicious canine on top of his head with both fists.
“Grapes!” screamed a woman from the crowd, while pointing.
“And cashews!” yelled a man.
Grapes and cashews spilled from the pocket of Beasta’s jacket and from the bottom of her pant leg. She yanked the dog free and threw it on the ground where it tumbled next to Jackman who was still a bit dazed. The animal took position in front of him, its teeth bared, a shred of denim still in his mouth.
“Thief! Thief! Thief!” chanted the crowd. The four guards on duty reacted to the crowd and finally stepped in Stealing the community food superseded the tradition of an honor duel. They trained their guns on Beasta who let out a tremendous roar of anger and charged Jackman one last time. The guards dropped her with an energy web. After she passed out it was all they could do to carry her away. Jackman looked around the crowd until he locked on me, and a grateful, knowing, broken tooth grin covered his face. He wrapped one arm around the boy and the other around his dog.
Beasta was sentenced to life in the seed department where she would be under constant guard and surveillance. Jackman knew that I stole the grapes and cashews and planted them on Beasta just before the fight when I wrapped my arm around her, but we never talked about it because some things are just better left alone. While Beasta served out the rest of her days Jackman and I walked our beat every night, sharing our rations with not only the ugliest animal on the planet but very possibly the last and only dog.
