After the girls went on their way, he released the man and stood back.
Again, the man sent him a crooked smile.
“No harm done, right?”
This time, he smiled back.
“The harm starts now.”
He left the ladies’ room thirty seconds later with the man’s screams still ringing in his ears and walked into the men’s room a few feet away, where he dumped the bundle of clothes he was carrying into the trash.
He made it back to the bench in front of the store and, minutes later, Jessica and Gabby exited carrying packages.
He smiled at Gabby.
“Did you get the dress you wanted, honey?”
“Yeah and it’s so beautiful, and Jessie bought me matching shoes too.”
Jessica gave him an apologetic smile.
“I hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long; were you bored?”
“I kept myself amused. Now, why don’t we go to lunch?”
As they ate lunch in the food court, the entire mall seemed to be talking about the naked man found in the ladies’ room.
“They say he had two broken arms,” Gabby said.
Jessica shook her head in disagreement.
“I heard the woman sitting over there say it was his legs that were broken.”
“It was both,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Jessica said.
He smiled. “I’m sure. Now, who wants dessert?”
TAKEN! D – THE BET
(The events in TAKEN! D take place a year after the events in TAKEN! 5)
He was on a bus headed to Springfield. His van was back in Boston with a dead transmission and Jessica needed her car to get to her part-time job after her classes were done for the day.
If he’d been normal, he might have had a friend who would have given him a lift, or would have loaned him their car, but he was not normal, had never been thus, and other than Jessica White, he had no one in his life.
“I wish I could go with you, but I can’t miss class,” she had said, and he assured her that he’d be fine taking the bus.
Not for the first time, he wondered why she stayed with him. Jessica was beautiful enough to win any man’s heart, but she gave her heart to him.
He was headed to his first championship bout as a Premium Fighter. The purse for the winner would be fifty thousand dollars, more money than he had ever seen.
He needed money.
If he was to ever be worthy of Jessica, to give her the life she deserved, he needed money and the money he earned from fighting was only a steppingstone towards someday starting his own business.
Although Jessica could not accompany him, he was not alone.
Sitting beside him was a southern boy named George Carver. George was a classmate of his and also a fight fan.
“The way you beat Joe Tyler in that last bout was something, where’d you learn to fight like that?” George said.
“One of my mother’s boyfriends taught me some judo, but I’ve always been able to handle myself.”
“Well, you may not have it so easy this time. This tournament is for the best of the best, fighters from as far away as California are coming here for this, plus, you’ve got to make it through four rounds.”
“I’ll do my best.”
George stared at him.
“You’re not nervous at all, are you?”
“No.”
“Why not? I mean, some guys get really hurt doing this, and you’re tall, but you’re not very big, and some of the guys you’ll be facing, like Murphy, are monsters.”
“Like I said before, I can handle myself.”
“You’re so damn confident that I’m tempted to bet on you, but I really need to bet on the winner and I’m thinking that it’ll be Murphy, no offense.”
“No offense taken,” he said, and then he smiled at George. He barely knew the boy but there was something about him that he liked.
George removed a picture from his wallet and handed it to him.
He looked at the picture and saw that it showed a huge farmhouse surrounded by green pastures.
“That’s my family’s farm; it’s near Atlanta. We’ve owned it for six generations, but when my daddy died last winter we learned that we had to pay inheritance tax or be forced to sell it to get the money.”
“How much do you need?”
“We’re about sixty thousand short, and that’s after selling everything that wasn’t nailed down, if I can just win every bet today, all four rounds, I’ll have enough to save it.”
He stared at the photo while wondering what it was like to know the history of your family. He didn’t even know the name of his own father.
He handed the photo back to George.
“It sounds like a risky plan.”
“I know, but it’s all I got. If I don’t raise that money in three days, it’s bye, bye farm.”
They soon learned that they shared a love of baseball, and spent the rest of the trip talking about the sport.
He found himself laughing at times while talking with George, a rarity for him, in fact, the entire act of talking casually with another person was a rarity. Other than Jessica White, most people found him off-putting to at least some degree, but George chatted along with him as if they had known each other for years.
Before he realized it, the bus was pulling into the terminal.
George grabbed a backpack from the floor between his feet.
“Well, buddy, this is where we part company. I’ve got to get to the bookie before the fights start.”
“Are you betting on Murphy?”
George sent him an apologetic look.
“Yes, I’m betting on Murphy. Look, you’re a hell of a fighter, don’t get me wrong, but Murphy’s stayed undefeated for nearly a year and I think he’s my best chance at saving the farm.”
“Good luck, George.”
George smiled.
“Hell, you too, and be careful in that damn cage. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
As they left the bus, George sent him a wave and walked off, heading east.
He began walking towards the arena on the west side, but after only six steps, he turned and ran after George.
George was startled by his sudden appearance and clutched tightly onto the straps of his backpack, where he undoubtedly kept the money he’d planned to wager.
“George.”
“Yeah?”
“I won’t lose. I’ll win every round, Murphy or not.”
George stared at him for long seconds.
“I can’t risk it, buddy, I’m sorry, but I gotta go with Murphy.”
He nodded.
“I understand.”
He then turned and began walking towards the arena, as behind him, George watched him depart, with his confident words still ringing in his ears.
***
He made it through the first three rounds easily. Other than the multiple bruises marking his arms from blocking blows, his sole injury was a small cut below his left eye, and that had only been acquired as he feigned fatigue, while luring his last opponent to become overconfident.
Now, the fourth and final round of fighting was to begin and it was the indomitable Murphy who was to be his opponent.
Murphy was, as George had put it, a monster. Ralph Murphy was a twenty-eight-year-old ex-Marine who stood six-foot-nine and weighed nearly three hundred pounds. The weight was muscle, and despite his massive size, Murphy was both quick and agile. He was as likely to knock you out with a kick as a punch and seemed to have no weaknesses.
Murphy outweighed him greatly, but the fledgling sport had yet to institute weight classes, and so for now, it was every man for himself.
Murphy had dispatched his first three opponents as efficiently as he had beaten his own, and the arena was wild with anticipation while waiting for their fight to begin. As they entered the octagon-shaped steel cage, Murphy’s name was shouted loudly, however, through the noise and tumult he heard his own
name called out.
He looked up into the crowd and spied Jessica smiling and waving at him.
She had come after all. She must have called out sick at her part-time job and rushed to be with him.
He smiled up at her, while thinking for the thousandth time what a miracle she was.
If Murphy had any chance of victory before her appearance, it had just evaporated to nothingness.
He was not about to lose before the woman he loved.
At the sound of the bell, Murphy let out a yell and rushed towards him like an enraged bull.
He ducked beneath the charge and struck him in the ribs, then, as Murphy turned to face him, he struck him again on the nose and followed it with a left to the man’s stomach.
Murphy kept coming as if nothing had happened and this time he stood his ground. Both men began throwing a series of punches as they stood toe to toe and soon the blood was flowing freely, as Murphy’s nose broke and he suffered a gash behind his left ear.
Two minutes into the bout, he caught Ralph Murphy with an uppercut that lifted the man off his feet and onto his back, four seconds and twelve punches later, the fight was over, as Murphy lay unconscious at his feet.
As he smiled up at Jessica, he again wished that George had heeded his advice and placed his bet on him.
He was a three to one underdog going into this, and with his victories, George would have won far more than enough to save his family’s home.
***
After showering and dressing, he gathered his winnings and slipped out a side exit, where he found Jessica in the parking lot standing by her car. She ran to him, kissed him, and then moaned with concern as she spied his injuries.
“Are you okay, baby?”
He brushed back her hair as he stared into her eyes.
“I’m perfect, I have you.”
With his arm wrapped around her, he headed for her car, but the sound of quickly approaching footsteps made him release her, and he spun to face whoever was rushing towards them.
It was George, and the smile lighting his face told him that he had heeded his advice after all.
George took him in a bear hug.
“My hero! Thanks to you, my family can keep the farm.”
George then spotted Jessica and looked her over. “Wow, who’s she?”
He made the introductions and George shook his head in wonder.
“Not only are you the world’s greatest fighter, but your girlfriend’s a super model.”
Jessica laughed.
“Thanks for the compliment, George, but tell me, how do you two know each other?”
“Oh, well we’ve seen each other around at school, but we only got to know each other on the bus ride out here.”
“Why not hop in the back and we’ll drop you off in Boston.”
“Really? You don’t mind me tagging along?”
Jessica grinned. “Of course not,”
“Damn, buddy, not only is your girlfriend a looker but she’s nice too, you’re a lucky man.”
He smiled at Jessica.
“You have no idea, George.”
On the ride back, George made a confession.
“I bet on Murphy, right up until that last bout.”
“What made you change your mind in the last round?”
“You, you looked so damn confident that I began to believe in you. I placed every penny that I’d won betting on Murphy and put it on him to lose. The bookie thought I was crazy, but now I’ve got more than enough to pay the taxes.”
“I’m glad everything worked out.”
“Say, why don’t we catch that double-header at Fenway this weekend? It’s my treat, and I’ll bring my girl along and we can double date.”
He opened his mouth to decline the offer, but before he could speak, Jessica answered.
“That sounds like fun, George, thanks,”
“Great,” George said, and then he began telling them stories about his boyhood growing up on the farm, and the three of them talked and laughed all the way home.
TAKEN! E – THE ELEVATOR
(The events in TAKEN! E take place nearly two years after the events in TAKEN! 24A - THE THIRTY-NINE)
He had just stepped aboard the elevator on the thirty-ninth floor when the man came running down the hall shouting for him to hold the doors open.
He stuck an arm out and the motion sensors sent the doors clunking back into their slots.
The man shot him a wink as he walked on, and he returned to his spot in the corner and crossed his hands in front of him.
“Thanks for holding the doors, buddy; these damn things take forever to come back if you miss one.”
“No problem,” he said, as he studied the man.
The man was in his mid-thirties, slim and tall, with dark hair and eyes. He was standing in the corner near the call buttons, and he watched the numbers descend on the overhead display panel with great interest.
On the thirty-eighth floor, the elevator came to a stop and chimed its arrival. When the doors opened, there were two men in suits, holding briefcases, waiting to get on. As the men were about to step inside the car, a voice cried out.
“Police! Step away from the elevator!”
He looked past the two men and saw a cop running down the hall, much as the man beside him had done moments earlier. The men in the suits backed away from the elevator and gawked at the galloping police officer with the gun in his hand. When the cop was twenty feet away, the doors began closing and so great was the cop’s desire to enter the elevator that he could feel it shudder as the man slammed against the now tightly shut doors.
As the elevator again traveled downward, he looked at his companion and saw that he too now carried a weapon.
He was in Boston.
He had been in the law offices of Levy, Aaron, Roman & Childs. The criminal attorney, Jeff Roman, was also a fight promoter, and the man who had given him his start in the sport of Premium Fighting, a sport in which he was now the undisputed champion.
He had begun fighting professionally more than a year ago and rose up the ranks of the fledgling sport in a meteoric manner that left no doubt that he would one day be the one to beat. A week ago, in an anticlimactic match, he defended his title for the third time by beating his opponent in less than four minutes.
He had become the best there was in a tough sport and now he was walking away from it to pursue another, more traditional, route to success.
He was starting his own company, and today he met with an intellectual property attorney as a first move at gaining a patent for an invention.
After looking over the software he developed, the patent attorney assured him that he should have little problem gaining financial backing, and that given the usefulness and uniqueness of his design, that he could also sell it outright if he wished and expect six figures.
All this, and he was still a week shy of his twentieth birthday.
The man pointed the gun at him.
“Be cool, kid, all I want to do is get the hell out of this building.”
“What have you done?”
“Nothing, I’m an innocent man.”
“That cop didn’t seem to think so.”
The elevator continued down without stopping, an almost unheard of occurrence in a building as busy as this one, and he assumed that the authorities were now in control of the machine.
As they approached the bottom, the elevator began to slow and the man hunkered down near the floor while screaming at him to get into the opposite corner.
He complied, not out of obedience, but out of common sense. If the doors opened upon a cadre of agitated police officers, the last place he wanted to be was in the line of fire.
PING! went the elevator as the doors opened up on a lobby that earlier was bustling with activity, but that now looked deserted, as the polished marble floors reflected the strobe of the red and blue lights of the police cars parked out front.
The man with the gun began breathing
faster as he mashed the buttons on the elevator to no use, and the doors stayed firmly open.
A deep voice echoed across the lobby, magnified by a bullhorn.
“Williams! This is the police! Let your hostage go and then come out with your hands in the air!”
“Damn it!” Williams said. He was standing as far into the corner of the elevator as he could get, and held his gun arm up and ready.
“How do I know you won’t shoot me once I let the kid go?”
“Nobody has to get hurt here, but if you don’t let the hostage go, then we’ll be forced to come in after you. Face the facts, Williams, you’re trapped.”
Williams shook his head.
“No, me and the kid come out together. That way I know you won’t shoot me.”
“No one wants to shoot you; we just want the hostage released.”
“He’s lying,” he said.
Williams looked over at him with fevered eyes.
“What?”
“I said he’s lying.”
“What do you mean he’s lying?”
He smiled as he shifted to the balls of his feet.
“I’m not a hostage.”
Nine seconds later, he exited the elevator while dragging Williams behind him, as a group of cops gawked on in open-mouthed wonder.
TAKEN! F – THE SLASHER
(The events in TAKEN! F took place in 2004)
Massachusetts
David Robert Haines AKA The Roadside Slasher followed the blonde into the bar and took a seat in the back, but not so far back that he couldn’t see the dance floor from where he sat.
The place wasn’t packed, the area was too rural for crowds, but the bar was busy and out on the floor several couples danced away to the music pouring out of the speakers.
Haines keyed in on his prey while she grinded away to a Latin beat on the dance floor.
She’s perfect!
The woman may have been one of the college kids that frequented the bar, or, more likely, a recent graduate. Her long blond hair was luminous beneath the overhead lights and her lithe body spoke of youth and fitness. The woman’s breasts were full and firm, while her legs were long and tanned. Blue eyes sparkled with life and happiness from a beautiful face that radiated joy.
Taken! Alphabet Series - 26 Original Taken! Tales (Donald Wells' Taken! Series Book 14) Page 2
