by Jamie Doyle
‘He’s alive!’ Kris squealed, but her glee quickly dissipated as she realised Max was far from well. Then a thought entered her mind. A promise she had made and now felt an overpowering urge to break. Looking around, Kris found her second in command in the weapons bay and shouted to him. ‘Take the lead! I’ve got to do something!’
The man looked across at Kris and instantly goggled. ‘No!’ he shouted, frantically waving his arms. ‘Don’t do that!’
‘You just watch the shop!’ Kris shot back as she opened the weapons bay portal and stuck her head through.
Meanwhile, out in the arena, Max had slowly pushed himself up to all fours, his movements still strained. Across from him, Macktidas shook his head, his vision still swimming.
‘Get up,’ Peter muttered, his clenched fist and forearm planted onto the glass of the box.
Next to him, Joe bored his gaze across the space and into Max, trying to telepathically ignite him. Next to Joe, Abdullah prayed. It was all he could do.
From his all fours posture, Max looked down at the grass beneath him. The gently stirring blades confused him, making him unsure if his focus was out or if the perception was real. He bunched his fists and felt the turf in his clenches. It was real. He was alive, but he still didn’t have his balance right. Then he remembered. Macktidas!
Snapping his head back up, Max locked his gaze onto the creature, who with one final shake of his head, cleared his vision, allowing the stadium to come back into alignment. A moment later Macktidas also realised he was still holding his sword and the very next moment, Macktidas too remembered where he was and why.
Flicking his head round, the beast found Max staring back up at him. He roared. Macktidas knew Max was still struggling. Now was his best chance to finish this. Now was his best chance to rightfully claim the throne and dominion over this pathetic species. Now was Macktidas’ best chance.
The creature raised its sword and tensed to barrel forwards, but suddenly halted. Its senses had detected a warning. Max was looking at something else, instead of at him.
Forty metres away, Max had also felt something stir on the periphery of his senses. He did not know how or why he turned, but Max knew that he had to. He trusted his gut instincts too much to ignore them and right now his instincts were screaming at him to turn and look.
From his vantage point essentially in the very centre of the arena, Max could see clearly down to the end where Kris stood. She was no longer safely ensconced behind the Perspex barrier and in the weapons bay, but rather she had squeezed herself out through the weapons portal and now stood on top of the concrete parapet with both her arms stretched out full length to both sides. Not motionless, but unwavering, strong and tall, like an angelic soldier she stood, calling a divine army to arms.
Max sensed also that Macktidas had paused, so he rose slowly to his full height, feeling the deep bruising in his torso start to bloom. Around Max, the entire stadium had fallen utterly silent. The thick, humid air hung tensely inside the arena. Even the breeze had died down. Everything was still, like a tomb.
Then Kris clapped overhead, the slap of her hands loud and clear. Kris clapped again and the sound was louder. She raised her outstretched hands a third time and this time a resounding echo accompanied her. The fourth time the sound was even louder as more people joined in. By the fifth clap, Max heard the foot stomps start up.
The Team Max anthem was on and if Max could hear it, he would know that all around the world, where ever humanity huddled in front of a television screen or clustered around a radio, they too were on their feet, their hands clapping in unison overhead, their feet stamping the Earth.
Max absorbed the atmosphere as he fixed on Kris’ proud form at the end of the arena. Macktidas stared frantically around at the crowd as they chanted and stomped together.
Raising his right hand, Max pointed directly at Kris, saluting her and her bravery to venture inside the arena and personally lift the crowd to help him. He felt his blood surge, his vision sharpen and his mind clear. Looking up higher, Max again found his family, ensconced in a backdrop of light. His love reached out and Max felt the love in return. He let his hand drop.
It was time. The preamble was over and destiny beckoned. Max knew he would never get the perfect opportunity to gain an advantage over Macktidas, so he had to take the fight to him. He had to face either victory or death head on and that time was now. Kris had just shown him that.
With the anthem roaring through his senses, Max slowly turned and fronted up to Macktidas, who was still uncertainly scanning the crowd. A moment later the beast realised Max had squared up to him and his demeanour instantly changed back to combat.
Suddenly, Max sprang forwards, his movements a blur and his orange shoes instantly transforming into twin arcs of flame against the brilliant green of the light-washed grass. He had become a human bullet, slicing a path directly towards his foe.
Macktidas instantly reared up on his massive legs to tower into the night, an obscene bellow issuing forth from his maw like a demon’s cry. If fear had an opus, this was it. Lifting his sword high, Macktidas launched forwards, his eyes like white pyres, his teeth bared. Holding the hilt of his weapon in his right hand, he thundered forwards with only one hand to help balance his gait.
Max did not veer. He did not slow. He did not deviate from the straightest of lines into Macktidas. The giant alien held its line equally as aggressively. The anthem continued unabated, the chant, the foot stomps and the hand claps shaking the stands and the ground beneath. The entire island had become a seismic event as the two foes charged towards each other with a shared intention. Death.
With the distance between them rapidly diminishing, Max judged his timing and with twenty metres to spare and just as Macktidas was rearing up again on his back legs and lifting his sword overhead for a double handed strike, Max made his move.
Without slowing, Max fractionally hunched down and then planting his left foot just a little harder, he sprung upwards. Leaving the turf, Max literally became a missile. With both arms outstretched in front and his legs trailing ramrod straight behind, he became a javelin, firing upwards at Macktidas’ head.
In the same flurry of nanoseconds, Macktidas roared again as he swung his great sword blade downwards, cleaving the night air in a killing stroke, right down onto Max’s flying form.
Max looked past his clenched fists to focus on Macktidas’ slicing blade, its glittering edge seeking to rip his life away. Again, judging the distance to be right, Max snapped his arms and legs inwards to somersault in mid flight. As he spun, he half rolled and with his body still pulled in tight, he felt Macktidas’ blade swipe down past his back, the rush of air icy cold. Max then snapped his legs back out straight and hard as he continued on his arrow like trajectory.
In that instant, Macktidas’ reflexes allowed him to see that his sword had missed its mark and that Max was now incoming towards his unprotected face. A split second later, all he could was grimace as Max’s feet smashed into the bridge of his nose, his momentum huge despite his much smaller size.
Macktidas’ head cracked back and Max ricocheted sideways. The giant alien stumbled two more steps forwards to crash headlong into the turf, great divots flying into the air as he ploughed forwards. The anthem converted to unrestrained cheering. The world erupted and humanity rejoiced. Max had sent their greatest enemy careering to the ground. Victory at last seemed possible.
Meanwhile, Max had bounced off Macktidas’ face and tumbled to the ground unharmed. It took two seconds for him to regain his bearings, but as soon as he turned to see Macktidas crashing to the ground, he knew he was clear. He had space and time to get to the gloves.
Without any further thought, Max was off again. As he ran, he could feel that the bruising in his chest from Macktidas’ last blow had spread right across his torso. He was undoubtedly bleeding deep inside and that it could well be fatal, but not even that would stop him. Max drove forward as fast as he could. If he was slowe
r because of his injuries, he had no idea. He was just running.
To his credit, Macktidas recovered his wits quickly. No sooner had he driven head first into the ground and he was he back up on all fours. Shaking his head once, he flicked his gaze backwards and found Max sprinting away. Without knowing exactly where the little human was going, in one fluid motion, Macktidas rose up, spun and shook his left fist. A flash of brilliant blue filled his left hand and another silver lance appeared in his clenched fist. Continuing the movement, Macktidas hurled the missile at Max’s back, his aim as accurate as any sharp shooter.
With his gaze deeply fixed on his destination where the charged gloves lay on the parapet at the end of the arena and in his slightly winded state, Max’s instincts did not fire as strongly as normal. The incoming missile remained undetected and his back completely exposed.
‘Behind you!’ screamed Kris’ voice in Max’s earpiece.
Without thinking, Max reacted. In his peripheral vision, he detected an object on the ground and instinctively, without slowing, Max flipped into a cartwheel at high speed and placed his hand on the straps of the object lying on the grass. It was the small silver shield he had discarded during the second bout with the tentacle ogre.
Nimbly clutching the shield and simultaneously spinning head over heels, Max came back up on to his feet facing the opposite direction. He pulled the shield in tightly to his chest and as he did, Macktidas’ javelin closed the gap.
The gleaming silver lance smashed directly into the centre of Max’s shield, but its strength held. The point did not penetrate and with every ounce of reflexive power, Max flicked the shining silver shield upwards and the tip of the javelin deflected over his right shoulder to send it tumbling away.
However, the force of the blow spun Max like a toy in mid air, his body flipping and tumbling in an airborne trajectory another twenty metres backwards. Slamming into the ground, Max rolled uncontrollably until he crashed into the concrete wall at the end of the stadium.
Macktidas roared again, sensing victory lay within reach. Hurling himself forwards, he cast his sword away and with his bare fists, he galloped in towards Max’s still form.
Despite the appearance, Max was not unconscious. All he needed was a few seconds of respite. Enough time for his lungs to refill with air and oxygen to flood his body again. The glancing blow of the javelin had deepened the bruising around his torso and Max was convinced his sternum had been cracked and maybe a couple of ribs, but that was irrelevant. All he needed was air. His external and internal injuries were not severe enough to prevent him from fighting on.
The rumbling of Macktidas’ approach shook the earth like an earthquake, sending Max the signal he needed to know that his rest was over. As the ground trembled beneath him, Max lifted himself to all fours and reached up to grab the edge of the parapet next to him. Hauling himself to his feet, he turned to face the ledge and there was his prize. The gauntlets.
Even over the cacophony of the crowd, Max could hear his foe’s roaring approach. Humanity’s doom was thundering down upon him and all he needed was one more lungful of oxygen. Closing his eyes, Max sucked in a single, chest shuddering breath.
At the other end of the stadium, high in his own box, Abdullah gripped his prayer beads with white knuckles as he sent a silent Quranic verse heavenward. Prime Minister Joseph Tollsen froze, his breath catching in his own lungs. Peter leaned forwards with his open palms flat against the glass of the booth and down below, still out on the parapet, Kris’ hands covered her mouth, a knot tying her stomach up.
Meanwhile, Elsa looked down the length of the arena at her husband, their children pulled in tight to her waist. There was no prayer. There was no wish. There was nothing at all in her mind. Right now Max was not the world’s hero. Right now Max was her flesh and blood husband and the father of their children and all he needed was a single word from her to finish this, so she whispered it.
‘Go.’
And Max flicked his eyes open. Snatching up the sable coloured gauntlets, Max sprang away, just as Macktidas’ double fisted blow crashed into the ground where he had been standing.
Dodging around the behemoth’s soaring bulk, Max made a bee line for the opposite end of the arena. He needed to get as much distance between himself and Macktidas for his plan to work. Like a bullet, he sprinted, pulling the gauntlets onto his hands as he pelted away.
Behind Max, Macktidas nimbly pivoted and took off right after him. His fists pounded the earth as he charged on. His feet ripped up the turf, great clods flying out behind him. His roar was relentless. Fury powered him. Raw, unquenchable fury.
Max continued to sprint down the very centre of the arena, his injuries ripping at him and fatigue finally starting to consume him. Driving his arms and legs, Max kept his pace up as fast as he could, his breathing ragged and broken.
‘Kris,’ Max gasped as he ran. ‘Get out of the way. I’m coming through.’
‘You’re what?’ Kris asked, wide eyed and still standing out on the parapet, mesmerised by the vision of Max sprinting towards her and Macktidas hurtling behind him.
‘I’m coming through and he’s coming with me,’ Max rasped out.
Kris froze, blinked and then it dawned. Turning, she pushed open the Perspex doors behind her and jumped down into the weapons bay.
‘Get out of here! Now!’ she screamed at the handful of people around the weapons bay, waving her hands. “Max is coming through!’
No one gave it a second thought. Instantly everyone scurried for the exit, dropping whatever they were doing. Kris looked up above her to the glass front of Elsa’s private box. There she stood with the kids, looking down at her. Kris held a clenched fist up to her lips, kissed it and then blew the kiss up to her friend. A split second later she was running.
In the arena, Max was half way down the field, his orange shoes flashing like the heels of Hermes and despite his injuries, was still tearing up the turf faster than any man had ever run in history. Directly ahead of him was the end. The end of the arena and the end of the duel. Max’s plan was all or nothing.
If doom took him, at least Max would die beneath his wife and children. His vision angled slightly up and Max focused on Elsa’s private box as it grew in size, her form and the huddled kids’ forms silhouetted behind the glass. There was no need for prayers now. No need for silent hope. No need for anything except purpose.
‘Juice on!’ Max yelled.
The words triggered the voice activation of the gloves and Max immediately felt a slight vibration in them as the electric current snapped on. Now Max was armed and lethal. In his hands he carried the power to kill his foe, but also quite likely take his own life. In seconds he would know.
Twenty metres to go and the crowd realised Max was not slowing down this time. There was no evasion plan. There was no intention to do anything other than crash into the end. Hands raised up to faces. Fists clenched neighbour’s arms. Breath froze in lungs.
Ten metres to go and Abdullah raised his hands to his face, palms together in prayer. Joe straightened and stood tall. Peter snarled and Kris stopped running, safely now out of the way to the side and watching the inevitable come to pass.
Elsa mouthed, ‘I love you.’
Max fixed his sights on a spot high on the barrier. Directly behind him, Macktidas reared up onto his legs, his fists raised high overhead in a killing strike. Mere metres separated the two opponents, their speed blinding. Their momentum unbreakable.
With five metres to spare, Max ducked slightly and launched himself, propelling his form like a rocket up towards the barrier. As he shot upwards, Max executed a mid air tumble turn like a swimmer, completing the move by planting both his feet on the vertical Perspex barrier. While inertia held him there, he looked up and stretched out in front, his gloved hands reaching forwards into space, and then Macktidas hit him.
The beast careered straight into the wall, smashing into Max and the barrier like a stampede of freight trains. In the spli
t second before impact, Max found his target, Macktidas’ neck and he grabbed it, feeling the electricity jolt out of the gauntlets like an explosion. Electricity arced around Max’s forearms and bridged across onto the giant alien’s neck and torso, the crackling forks of energy wrapping themselves around the creature’s glimmering black skin like coils of razor wire. An acrid smell scorched the air as Macktidas burned.
Max’s senses absorbed all these sights, sounds and smells in the milliseconds following impact, but he also absorbed much more. Pain. Immense pain. He felt his chest compress and one of his forearms snap. He also felt his back bend brutally as the monster’s mass squashed him into the barrier like a bug on a car windshield. Max saw great shards of the barrier shatter all around him as he flew backwards and more arcs of electricity streamed off his gloves into the night air, his form now like a giant fire cracker amidst the carnage and destruction.
Then Max was falling. Flying clear of the wreckage, he crashed into the ground, coming to rest on his back in the weapons bay that Kris and her team had been in seconds before. Max could not feel the hard concrete beneath him, nor any of his injuries. His body was shutting down. He did not know where Macktidas had finished up or the state of his enemy, dead or alive. Right now he did not care. His fight was finished and all he could do was lie on his back and look upwards through his fading vision.
A serene image came to him. It was an angel and two cherubs, looking down on him from above; Elsa, Millie and Jason. Max didn’t know if he deserved to go to Heaven, but he did know he had tried his best to save his family and those that he cared about and if that was enough to gain him peace, then he was thankful for that.
Just before the dim light faded completely to darkness, Max mouthed the three words in his life that meant the most to him.