by Kieran Song
“I’ve had enough,” Ryker said. “It’s women I want tonight.” He turned around and stared at Allegra as he smacked his lips.
“So clean and so fresh,” the Goblin grinned.
“I’ll bring you a few tonight,” Tiberius said, trying to draw Ryker’s attention away from Allegra. “It’s better when they don’t resist anyway.”
Ryker turned his attention back to Tiberius and placed a talon-like hand on his shoulder.
“Do you miss the fighting?” he asked.
“No. That part’s behind me now.”
“You’re lying to me. I know you miss being in those pits, squeezing the life out of some worthless boy. You’re a warrior and you were born to fight.”
“There’s only one thing I miss, and it’s not the pits Ryker.”
“Always with the girl again,” Ryker sighed. “You’ll get to see her in time. I promised haven’t I? Now stop talking about her. Your pathetic feelings are such a drag.”
The look on Tiberius’s face was unmistakable. He was hurting. There was someone in his life that had imprisoned his heart in chains.
Tiberius had always treated Allegra with kindness and protected her from Ryker’s wild rampages. He deserved to be happy. They all did.
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately about a fitting end to Dog,” Ryker said. “There’s only one man I can think of that can stand up to that mongrel and win.”
Allegra bit her lip and steadied herself as Ryker slowly unfolded his plan.
“Imagine a fight between yourself and Dog,” he boasted. “A monumental clash of the champions. The payoffs in both bets and seats would be ludicrous.”
“My time in the Arena is done,” Tiberius said. Ryker grinned.
“We’ll see,” Ryker said. “We’ll see.”
Chapter Twenty-Six.
Dog saw the fright hidden behind Allegra’s tired eyes. Did Ryker attempt to rape her again? He gently nudged her inside his chamber and closed the door behind him.
She sat down at the edge of his bed and chewed on her lip, a habit Allegra did when she was deep in thought, Dog noticed.
“What’s wrong,” he asked as he took a seat next to her. “Is it Ryker?”
She rested her head on his broad shoulders and closed her eyes. Dog remained still and listened to her soft and rhythmic breathing. He wondered if years down the road, he would relive this moment in nostalgia as well.
Allegra finally broke the silence.
“Ryker is going to have you fight Tiberius,” she said. “One of you will die.”
Dog shrugged. “Then I’ll fight him and win.”
“Tiberius isn’t like the other boys you’ve faced,” she said. “He’s a killer and a champion.”
“He still bleeds.”
Allegra pounded her fist into the bed and it startled Dog. “I’ve watched Tiberius since the beginning,” she said. “He’s calculating, methodical, and patient. He spots weakness and finds ways to win. He’s killed more than you have.”
“Are you saying I can’t win?”
“No.”
Dog took in her response and weighed it. He had heard stories of Tiberius’s fights. During training sessions, Garret often used Tiberius as a reference and showed him what tactics he used and his combat techniques. A lot of Dog’s skills had the same strands of DNA as Tiberius’s. Dog was confident in his abilities, but he was also realistic as well. He found no shame if he were to fight Tiberius and lose. Luckily, if all went according to his plan, it wouldn’t come to that.
He just needed to be patient and wait for the opportune time to make his escape with Allegra, though he kept this information to himself; not because he didn’t trust her, but rather he didn’t want Allegra on the receiving end of any punishments should Ryker suspect anything.
“Don’t worry about it,” Dog said. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”
Allegra seemed reluctant to end the subject in such a manner, but she finally agreed. “I’m going out again on Monday to salvage more junk from the houses,” she said, changing the topic of conversation.
Suddenly the final pieces of his plan fell into place. Dog wasn’t scheduled to fight this weekend and most of the guards would be preoccupied manning the pits, maintaining order in the Arena during the matches. If Dog planned a visit to the gym during that time, he could take out the lone guard and escape to the surface before Ryker even knew he was missing. He would find Allegra outside and as long as he had the coordinates of all the mines, they could make their escape from Bimini.
“That sounds nice,” Dog replied.
“It’ll be good to get outside of this disgusting place for some fresh air. It’s been so long,” Allegra said. “I wish I could take you with me, to see the sunshine and the sky.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t doubt that I’ll see it again someday,” Dog said, doing his best to hide his smile. Soon the two of them would be free from this underground dungeon, and if there was a more pleasant thought in the world, he certainly didn’t know what it was.
BOOK FOUR: ESCAPE
Interlude:
From the Journal of Edmund Glaber:
December 10, 2007
Tonight, while everyone sleeps, I’ll leave the Arena and never come back. I’m taking only a few essential items with me so I don’t draw any suspicion onto myself: the GPS, a stack of bills, and a bottle of water. Everything else is expendable. The first thing I’m going to do once I’m far away from this place is head straight for a police station and expose the Arena. I’ve helped Ryker create a hell on earth, and my conscience can’t take it anymore.
My last meal with Ryker was an odd one. Earlier on in the night we were in his office and he was drinking a lot heavier than normal and for the first time, our conversation almost had a sentimental tone, which surprised me. Usually Ryker talked about business or a fight that was noteworthy and I’ve seen him exhibit a wide range of emotions with the exception of one: sorrow. That changed tonight.
“Do you think I’m immoral?” Ryker had asked me.
“No, of course not,” I lied. “You’re providing for all of us here.”
Ryker responded with a stiff nod and continued to pound away at his whiskey. “You know Edmund, you’re the only friend I’ve got in this world.”
“Of course. We’ll always be friends. You looked out for me when we were in Red Gate together, I’ll never forget that.” I meant those words as well. Ryker had created a business inside Red Gate, one that preyed on the ultimate desire of everyone in that prison: violence. He told me once that deep down in the heart of every man existed a primitive thirst for savagery that was unquenchable. I couldn’t disagree with him. I loved watching a good fight as much as any other.
Ryker exploited this and created his own empire behind those prison walls. He lined the guards pockets with money, gave all the prisoners an addictive form of entertainment, and created a separate justice system between the inmates. Any disputes and vendettas amongst the various factions in the prison could be handled during the fights, bringing a twisted sense of order within Red Gate that seemed to keep the guards happy — less work for them.
The strongest stood at the top of the food chain and the weakest…well the weakest were the ones that suffered in Ryker’s system. Ryker was a king sitting atop his pile of riches and I sat there next to him.
I felt bad betraying him. I owed him a lot. He was the single reason why I survived Red Gate Prison, and he has provided for me on the outside. But the kids…it crossed a line that was too far out of bounds, even for a scumbag like me.
Ryker had handed me an empty glass and filled it with a shot worth of whiskey. He raised the glass and looked at me with glossy eyes. I thought he was going to cry.
“A toast then,” Ryker had said. “To our friendship and whatever mysteries tomorrow brings.”
“Salute,” I replied as I downed the shot.
When we were both finished, Ryker stood up, gave me a pat on the shoulder, and then left
room. He hadn’t touched his food.
My next entry will mostly be behind bars, if they’re kind of enough to leave me with my journal and a pen that is. I find that reading through the past entries, I can relive all the horrible things I’ve done. I’m always overwhelmed with such regret. In some ways, it is my confession.
Chapter Twenty-Seven.
The Arena was buzzing with another Sunday night fight and from the gym, Dog could hear the murmurs of the audience.
“I can’t believe I’m missing the fights. Of all the times you had to work out, did it have to be now?” the guard, nicknamed Chatterbox moaned. “By the way, I’m hearing a lot of rumours about your next fight.”
Dog ignored him as he completed another set of bench presses. He sat up and wiped the perspiration off his brow with his towel.
“Don’t you want to know what they’re saying about your next fight?” Chatterbox asked. The new guard Ryker had assigned to Dog was giving him a headache. The idiot never seemed to shut up and Dog wondered if this was a means of torture that Ryker was inflicting on him. He did his best to tune out Chatterbox’s raspy smoke-corroded voice, but today, every single word he said was like amplified static, crackling loudly in his ear. Knocking him out was going to be a pleasure. He just needed to wait a while longer for the fights to start and everyone’s attention was focused inside the pit.
“No,” Dog replied. “I don’t care.”
“It’s a good one, I promise,” Chatterbox said. Dog ignored him and attacked a heavy set of dumbbells and began curling them with his thick biceps.
“They say you’re going to fight Tiberius. Isn’t that crazy? It’s a clash of champions. When I heard about it I crapped my pants.”
“So that’s what that smell is.”
“What?”
“Forget it.”
“So do you think you can?”
Dog set the weights down and gave Chatterbox a puzzled look. “What?”
“Do you think you can beat Tiberius? I’m going to be betting on this fight but it’s a hard call,” Chatterbox said. “Tiberius is physically stronger than you, but it’s been a while since he fought. I need some advice here.”
“Save your money. Invest in education,” Dog said. He heard the fight announcements echoing from a distance, indicating the start of the matches. Dog headed for the exit of the gym while Chatterbox trailed behind him like a yapping puppy.
“I’m serious, I need this cash. Ryker promised to sell me this girl at a great price. I only need five hundred dollars more and I can make that through betting on this fight,” Chatterbox said. “Do you have any injuries or anything I should know about?”
Dog glared at him. “Women are not to be bought and sold. Find yourself another woman.”
“This girl is a special one. She’s got this tight little body. The best part about her are the eyes,” he grinned. “They look so innocent. Something about that just gets me going. You know that timid look they have when they’re afraid of you?”
Dog hit him hard and Chatterbox’s jaw shattered underneath the weight of Dog’s fist and it felt good. The guard crumpled to the floor and was out cold.
“Now that you mention it, my knuckle is a bit tender,” Dog smiled. For a brief moment, he considered killing Chatterbox, but finally decided that he wouldn’t kill someone that was already unconscious. Only animals did that, and he was no animal.
He dragged Chatterbox to large bin of dirty towels and buried him deep inside, well hidden beneath the layers of sweat-stained fabric. With the first part of his plan completed, it was time to move onto the next step where things would get pretty ugly.
With most of the guards positioned around the pit, it was fairly easy getting from the gym to the morgue. There was one point where Dog heard footsteps echo down the tunnel and he concealed himself in the shadows, watching as the stray guard strolled right past him. When the path was clear again, Dog moved with a hurried pace to his destination.
Even before Dog opened the morgue’s steel doors, the vile stench of death was noticeable. Once he was inside and the door was closed behind him, the overwhelming stink of rot assaulted his nostrils and made him gag. It took a few moments for Dog to regain his composure.
The morgue itself was a dimly lit change room for subway utility workers back when the Arena was still a functional transportation system. The first thing Dog noticed was the rows of lockers that lined the walls of the room. The second was the trails of dried blood on the white, tiled ground that bended around the corner of a locker row and into the darker depths of the room.
Dog followed the bloody path, leading him to an open showering area. Four body bags were piled atop each other on the ground. Dog could tell that at least one of the bodies was already decaying by the repugnant smell. The idea of spending a night in the morgue was less than appealing but the thoughts of freedom and the promise he made to Allegra gave him the stones he needed to do this. But first, he needed something—anything—to help with the smell. He had to be quick about it; it wouldn’t be long before they dragged the first corpse in from tonight’s fight.
He rummaged through the various lockers and it wasn’t until the fourth one that he found something useful. On the top of the locker shelf was a jar of menthol vapour rub, the kind used for chest colds, and a pack of mint flavoured gum. It wasn’t much, but it would do. Dog took the vapour rub and smeared a wad of it under his nose and inhaled. The penetrating scent of menthol made his eyes water, but it was far better than the smell of dead bodies. Dog shoved a couple pieces of gum into his mouth and pocketed the rest, figuring he would need it throughout the night.
Dog found a clean, empty body bag and laid it out on the ground in the shower area, next to the other ones. Suddenly he heard the sounds of heavy footsteps and strained voices from outside.
“This freaking kid is heavy,” came the rough sounding voice of a guard.
“If this kid exercised a little, I bet he would have lasted longer during the fight,” the other guard grunted.
They were heading for the morgue.
Dog quickly tucked himself into the body bag and did his best to zip it up from the inside, which was a bit of a challenge. He managed though, leaving an open gap at the top of the bag, enough for a bit of light and air to breathe. Dog finished just in time as he heard the rattling of keys followed by the creaking of the hinges on the steel door. He closed his eyes, held his breath, and remained perfectly still.
“I can’t wait until I’m out of grave digging duties,” the gruff sounding guard complained. “A couple more months and I get promoted to crowd control.”
“Lucky bastard,” the other one muttered. “I’ve got another year of this crap. Sometimes, it’s impossible to get the stink of the bodies off of me, no matter how many times I shower. I even tried stupid home remedies like dousing myself in cinnamon. I end up smelling like a rotting pastry.”
“Ah well, the pay is good and we get plenty to drink and women to screw. That makes it all worthwhile.”
“Speak for yourself. No slave girl wants to touch me after I come back from disposing bodies.”
“Just do what I do,” the gruff one said.
“What’s that?”
“Choke the dumb bitch a little and force yourself on her. What are they going to do? Tell on you?” He let out a fully-bellied laugh.
“You’re sick, you know that?”
“You’re no angel yourself. Come on, let’s toss fat boy here and get back to the fights. If we’re not too late, we can still catch the end of the finals.”
Dog felt the all wind knocked out of his lungs when the heavy corpse landed on top of him. It took everything he had not to move a muscle or make a peep. It was only when he heard the steel doors shut again did he pull down the zipper of his body bag, freeing his upper body. He shoved the heavy body bag off of him and gasped.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Twenty-Eight.
At some point Dog must have
fallen asleep while hidden in the body bag because the next thing he knew, he was being lifted by a pair of strong hands onto a steel cart. Much to his relief, he was the last body to be loaded, which saved him from being crushed under the weight of the dead.
Every breath he took was a cautious one, trying his best to not make a sound, while they wheeled the cart through the tunnels and onto the maintenance elevator that led to the surface.
The first blast of the cold, open air on his brow was relieving and he inhaled the welcoming scent of the outdoors, which he sorely missed. Eventually the cart came to a halt and he heard the voices of the guards from last night again.
“Alright, start the fire,” the rough sounding one said.
“Why do I always have to do it?”
“Because I have seniority. Now quit your whining and get to it.”
The smell of the gasoline gave Dog a flashback to a couple of years ago, when he had watched the child molester burn. He had his regrets about it but there was nothing he could have done. Regardless of whatever choice Dog made, Ryker was going to kill the pedophile. Dog had seen Ryker’s true intent in those deceitful eyes of his.
The crackling sounds and the wave of smothering heat from the fire warned Dog that he needed to get out of the body bag soon, otherwise he’d burn as the pedophile had.
“Go and get the bags of sand,” the gruff guard instructed.
“Seriously? I start the fire and I have to get the bags?”
“Yes.”
“How is this fair?” the other guard moaned.
“In a couple of months, you’ll be saddled with some new guy. Be happy in the fact that you’ll get to order him around. Now go get those sandbags while I have myself a smoke.”
Dog heard the other guard let out a huge sigh which was followed by heavy footsteps as he walked off. Now was Dog’s chance. He slowly unzipped the top of the body bag and peered out. The remaining fat-bellied guard was facing away from Dog and the fire, while sucking on a cigarette and scratching an itch on his lower back.