“Oh, my god!” Remi gasped. “Help! Somebody help!”
The cell door slid open. Officer Reed rushed in. “What’s the problem?”
“It’s Eboni,” Remi replied. “She…something’s wrong with her…she’s not…right.”
“Officer Reed pulled a radio from her belt. “We have a possible Code Ninety-nine in C-4. We have a possible Code Ninety-nine in C-4.”
“Copy that,” a voice squawked from the radio. “En route.”
“Ms. Ahmed, help is coming soon,” Officer Reed said.
“Why?” Eboni replied. “I fee-o fibe.”
“They just want to check you out before your fight,” Remi lied. She took a deep breath and clenched her fists to help her fight back the tears that threatened to burst forth. “Routine stuff.”
“Wokay,” Eboni replied.
After what seemed to Remi like forever, two of the infirmary’s medics trotted into the cell with a gurney. They lowered the stretcher to the height of Eboni’s knees.
“Hop on,” Remi said. “They’re giving you a free ride.”
Eboni smiled broadly at Remi. “Wokay.”
The medics raised the gurney and wheeled Eboni out. Officer Reed followed them. She paused, peering over her shoulder at Remi.
“We’re going to take good care of her,” she said. “I’ll let you know Ms. Ahmed’s condition as soon as I know something.”
“Thank you,” Remi replied.
The cell door slid shut. Remi walked over to the bunk and plopped down onto Eboni’s bed. She sat, slumped, in silence as a torrent of tears stained her face.
####
The cell door slid open. Remi hopped to her feet.
Warden Hess sauntered into the room carrying Remi’s lunch tray and smoothie. “Mrs. Swan, how are you?”
“I’ve been better,” Remi replied. “How’s Eboni? Officer Reed said she was going to let me know something, but it’s been hours.”
Warden Hess sat the tray and cup on Remi’s desk. “I wanted to deliver the news to you myself and to escort you to infirmary for your massage before we head down to Baldwin for the tournament.”
“So…?” Remi replied.
“Ms. Ahmed has suffered a transient ischemic attack - a temporary episode of brain dysfunction caused by the loss of blood flow to the brain,” Warden Hess replied.
“I know what a TIA is,” Remi said. “So, her punch drunkenness became more aggressive?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Warden Hess took a step toward Remi. Her expression was like granite. “Sit down, Mrs. Swan. I am going to explain something to you.”
“I’d rather stand,” Remi said.
“Sit down,” Warden Hess said. “You want answers? Sit!”
Remi sat on the lower bunk. Warden Hess sat in the chair opposite her.
“Ms. Ahmed’s TIA was caused by an adverse reaction to a virus that was in her food,” the warden said.
“A virus?” Remi said. “How did it get in the food? Why aren’t I sick? Are any other women ill?”
“We put it in the food,” Warden Hess replied.
“You what?” Remi bellowed.
“Calm yourself,” Warden Hess said. “There are officers outside this door. If they come in, you’ll be taken to the tournament without the answers you seek. That confusion could adversely affect your performance. We don’t want that.”
“You think I’m fighting in a damned tournament for you now?” Remi said, shaking her head. “Hell no!”
“If you don’t, I will be forced to deny your friend the antivirus that she so desperately needs,” Warden Hess replied. “And don’t forget, your husband is home, now, but he is still recovering. It would be terrible if he suffered some set back…but these things do happen.”
“You set this up,” Remi said.
“No, we did not,” Warden Hess replied. “We call our little creation AMVO…a-m-v-o – Adrenal Myostatin Viral Organism. AMVO halts the production of myostatin – a protein that inhibits the growth of muscles, preventing them from growing too large. At the same time, it increases the production of adrenaline.”
“So, it makes its victims bigger, stronger and more aggressive,” Remi said.
“In theory,” Warden Hess said. “But viruses often mutate with unexpected results. AMVO works differently in each patient. Take Janine for instance…her mother was one of our earlier patients. She, like all of the early patients, fell ill and died. Janine, who was born with the virus, however, grew to incredible proportions and is possessed of strength far beyond any normal man. It is her blood that we now harvest the virus from.”
“So, this AMVO is contagious?” Remi inquired.
“Janine is the only patient who has manifested AMVO as a contagion and even then, the virus must be either ingested or injected,” Warden Hess replied.
“But Eboni’s punch drunkenness seemed to be healed,” Remi said.
“It did heal,” Warden Hess said. “But in healing one part of Ms. Ahmed’s brain, it left another part weakened…and it is trying to spread. We have halted its spread and have the antivirus prepared. Once you win that tournament, I will call them and they will give her the antivirus. She has about ten hours before the virus grows immune to the meds we are using to halt its spread, so we have plenty time.”
“What if I lose?” Remi said.
“You won’t,” Warden Hess said, rising from the chair. “Ms. Ahmed and your husband are counting on you.”
Warden Hess stepped to the door. The door slid open and the warden stepped out. Officers Dillard and McCray stood just beyond the doorway.
“Eat up,” Warden Hess said as she walked away.
Remi stared at her tray and the cup. A wave of nausea rose in her gut. She sat down, fighting the urge to vomit and ate her virus-laden lunch.
ROUND FOUR
The roar of the crowd was deafening. Remi perused the arena. The domed, elliptical-shaped room appeared to be carved from a single piece of crimson granite. The spectators sat in plush, navy blue, leather chairs. She, along with the other fighters, sat on a long stone bench that was situated a few feet from one side of the octagonal cage, which sat high above the arena floor.
Three guards stood at both ends of the bench. Their heads were covered with shiny blue helmets and their faces hid behind blue-tinted, plastic face shields. Their navy blue jumpsuits peeked from underneath padded gauntlets, elbow pads, shoulder pads, knee pads and greaves. Each man held a stun baton at the ready. A pair of guards escorted each prisoner to opposite sides of the ring when it was their time to fight.
The Bantamweight quarter finals were done. And the first Lightweight fight was over. The fights were brutal, with only four rules: no biting; no attacks to the eyes; no attacks to the groin and no weapons. The fights had no time limit, only ending when one fighter submitted, was knocked unconscious or was killed.
The spectators – corporate types and other men and women with wealth, by the looks of them – loved the bloody spectacle. Remi recognized a few politicians, religious leaders, professional athletes and celebrity entertainers among the salivating crowd.
“Hold on to your seats folks!” The announcer – a lanky, middle-aged man who was introduced as Jason Liu, veteran star of Chinese martial arts cinema – bellowed. “We have an undefeated, undisputed champion in our midst…and the first female fighter to shed blood in this cage!”
“The crowd howled, stomped and whistled.
Hailing from Atlanta, Georgia,” Jason Liu shouted. “She really needs no introduction…from Ames Medical Facility; she is an indigenous African martial arts fighter weighing in at one hundred fifty-five pounds…Remi ‘The Single Link’ Swan!”
The crowd cheered.
Remi leapt to her feet. She jogged to the cage, with a guard at each flank. The closer she got to the octagon, the stronger she felt. Her very bones seethed with energy. She pushed the cage door open and sprinted inside, shuffling sideways around Jason Liu.
The crowd roared.
Remi ran to her corner. She raised her fists to her chin as she shuffled in place from side-to-side.
“And now,” Jason began. “Hailing from Coastal State prison, via Brooklyn, New York…he is a Fifty-Two Blocks fighter…weighing in at one-hundred fifty-seven pounds…Wallace ‘Mr. Fifty-Two’ Himes!”
The crowd cheered.
“Are you ready?” Jason Liu asked, pointing at Remi.
She nodded. The urge to destroy her opponent raged in her gut.
“Are you ready?” Jason asked Mr. Fifty-Two.
“Hell yeah!” Mr. Fifty-Two shouted.
“Fight!” Jason commanded.
Remi shuffled forward.
Mr. Fifty-Two darted forward, rhythmically tapping his elbows with the tips of his fingers. He exploded toward Remi, launching a lightning fast flurry of hooks and uppercuts toward Remi’s chin.
Remi raised her elbows, moving them like pistons, the dense muscles of her forearms and biceps absorbing the force of Mr. Fifty-Two’s hook punches. She then drove her right elbow downward, slamming the bony tip of it into the small bones of Mr. Fifty-Two’s uppercutting fist.
Mr. Fifty-Two wailed in agony. He staggered backward, shaking his shattered left hand, as if he was trying to cast off the pain.
Remi leapt forward, thrusting her knee toward Mr. Fifty-Two’s chest. The powerful flying knee slammed into Mr. Fifty-Two’s sternum.
A loud crack erupted from Mr. Fifty-Two’s chest. He gasped as his shoulders folded inward, nearly touching each other. He collapsed onto his face.
Remi stood over Mr. Fifty-Two, staring, in horror, at the damage she had done. Her power, her speed and her ferocity frightened her. She had wanted to kill Mr. Fifty-Two and perhaps she had.
Four medics rushed into the cage with a stretcher. They rolled Mr. Fifty-Two onto it and then jogged out of the octagon.
Jason grabbed Remi’s wrist and raised her hand above her head. “The winner, by knockout…Remi ‘The Single Link’ Swan!”
The spectators went wild.
“The Single Link moves on to the Semi-Finals!” Jason said.
The cage door opened. Remi sauntered out of the cage, where two guards met her. She was escorted back to her seat on the bench. She felt the eyes of the other fighters locked on her, but she didn’t return their gaze.
I’m going to kill Warden Hess for what she’s done to me, she thought. For what she’s done to Eboni.
####
The fights raged for hours. Remi had run through her opponents, defeating them with ease, as if she was fighting toddlers. Now, she stood opposite the reigning Lightweight champion in the cage. ‘Pisces’ Pete Tottenham was the only fighter who had ever successfully used internal Chinese martial arts in the ring. Pisces’ mastery of the circular, evasive Bagua Zhang and the explosive, linear Xing Yi Quan and his experience in using them on the streets of Chicago and in prisons across America made him an unpredictable and dangerous fighter.
Pisces bent his knees a bit and extended his palms toward Remi.
Remi brought her right foot forward, bent her knees and raised her left heel as she brought up her fists to the height of her chin in her customary, boxing-like African fighting position. The urge to destroy Pisces rose in Remi’s chest. She fought to kill the urge; to center herself. This is just a sporting match, she told herself. But the urge to kill; to utterly eradicate Pisces would not be quieted.
Pisces smirked. In Remi’s mind, he was telling her, without words that she was unworthy. That he would defeat her because her skills were of no comparison to his. That the indigenous African martial arts were like child’s-play when measured against the superior Asian ones.
Remi roared and charged forward.
Pisces coiled his back and then skittered forward.
Remi thrust her left forward, driving her heel toward Pisces’ liver.
Pisces rolled his shoulders and hips to his right. Remi’s kick shot past him. Pisces took advantage of the miss, driving his hips back toward his center as he struck with his open right palm. His palm plowed into Remi’s solar plexus.
Remi staggered backward from the blow. The air rushed from her lungs.
Pisces closed on Remi with surprising speed.
Remi needed a few moments to catch her breath; moments Pisces seemed reluctant to give her. She threw a jab in desperation.
Pisces’ left arm deflected Remi’s punch past his shoulder as he reached for her throat with the thumb, index and middle fingers of his right hand. Pisces’ thumb and fingers dug into Remi’s throat. He squeezed.
Remi’s throat threatened to collapse under the power of Pisces’ claw-like grip. She tensed the muscles in her neck to give her a bit of relief. She stepped far back with her right leg, raised her left elbow just above the height of Pisces’ forearm and then shifted to her right, driving her elbow into his arm. The combined force of her turning body and her elbow, forced Pisces to release his crushing grasp.
Pisces launched a looping, diagonal hook punch toward Remi’s temple.
Remi raised her elbow to the height of her brow, absorbing the blow with her arm. She then shuffled forward and then struck with a rear knee that slammed into the inside of Pisces’ right thigh like a wrecking ball.
Pisces’ thigh bent outward with a loud crack. He screamed as his leg gave out, collapsing sideways.
Remi dropped to her right knee. She wrapped her arms around Pisces’ left thigh and then drove her chest into it, slamming Pisces onto his back. She shoved Pisces’ foot into her armpit and drove the blade of her wrist into his Achilles tendon as she arched backward.
Pisces wailed as the tendons of his foot were torn from the muscles of his calf and his foot.
Remi tossed Pisces’ now lifeless foot to the side and then slid up his body, straddling his waist. Remi raised both fists high above her head.
“Please, don’t,” Pisces begged.
Remi drove her fists downward, slamming them into both sides of Pisces’ collar bone.
A shriek escaped Pisces’ lips as his collarbone pulverized under the crushing power of Remi’s hammer-fists. His eyes rolled about in their sockets and then his body fell limp.
Remi raised her fists again. Her fists shook and her heart pounded with the anticipation of flattening Pisces’ skull.
“Kill him! Kill him!” The crowd chanted.
Remi’s killing impulse raged. Always give them what they want, she thought. Remi’s muscles tensed. She expanded her chest and raised her fists higher. Wait…no, I…I can’t. I shouldn’t…
“Kill him! Kill him!”
I’m going to pound his skull like yam!
“Kill him! Kill him!”
A ki i tori-i gbigbo pa aja – you don’t kill a dog for barking.
The heat in Remi’s chest cooled. The raging tempest in her mind dissipated, leaving in its wake a light breeze. She leapt to her feet and backed away from Pisces’ unconscious body.
Jason Liu grabbed Remi’s wrist and raised her fist in the air. “The winner…and new champion of the Lightweight Division is Remi ‘The Single Link’ Swan!”
The crowd cheered.
Remi walked to the door of the cage, a guard opened it. She was led by the guards back to her seat.
“Remi will go on to fight Stanley ‘The Beast’ Frank, the undefeated Heavyweight and tournament Champion for the past five years,” Jason Liu said. “We will have an hour intermission before the Grand Championship, so eat, drink and be merry before The Single Link and The Beast go to war!”
The spectators, whistled, clapped and stomped in approval.
“Let’s go, Swan,” A guard commanded.
Remi rose from the bench and followed the guard to a door behind her. A pair of guards walked behind her. The guard at the front opened the door. Remi entered and the guards followed her inside. Warden Hess stood before her.
“Excellent job!” Warden Hess said with a smile.
“You have turned me int
o a goddamned monster!” Remi spat.
“A very powerful monster, though,” Warden Hess replied. “Now, please, sit,” she said, pointing toward a massage chair.
Remi sat in the chair and placed her chest upon the support. Warden Hess massaged Remi’s shoulders firmly, but gently.
“I was once the leading Orthopedic and Neurological Physical Therapist in the United States,” the warden said. “I miss the work.”
“You should return to it,” Remi said. “Before Ames becomes the death of you.”
Warden Hess continued with her massage. “Is that a threat?”
“A warning,” Remi said. “I now understand why you keep Eboni and me segregated from the other prisoners, though…can’t have a bunch of physically enhanced monsters starting a riot.”
“None of the other women – other than Ms. Ahmed and Janine - possess your…attributes,” Warden Hess replied. “In fact, most of them are dying. We don’t know exactly how this virus works. One of the dying women might have caused you to get sick, too.”
Warden Hess placed a palm on Remi’s chin and one on the crest of her head. She then pushed with small movements in one direction while she pulled in the other, pulling Remi’s neck and upper spine into alignment. “When I’m done, I want you to soak for fifteen minutes in the Epsom salt and arnica leaf bath we have prepared for you in the Jacuzzi just beyond those curtains,” she said, pointing toward the left corner of the room, which had a thick, brown curtain stretched across it. “Then I want you to stretch and do a light warm up until you’re called.”
“Ok,” Remi replied.
“Tell me something,” Warden Hess began.
“Yes?”
“When you had Pisces on the ground, why didn’t you kill him?”
“Because I’m not a murderer.”
“No, I mean, I know you felt the impulse to do it; it was all over your face,” Warden Hess said. “How did you keep control?”
“My training,” Remi said. “A Yoruba Proverb brought me back to sanity. Whenever I feel lost, the words of my answers always provide a guiding light.”
“You’ll need more than words when you square off with The Beast,” Warden Hess said. “You’ll have to kill him to stop him.”
Wrath of the Siafu- A SIngle Link Page 4