Indian Hill (20 page)

Most of my waking time, which was beginning to increase, was spent either on the weight bench which the aliens had supplied or watching “reruns” of the past gladiator battles. I wanted to learn all that I could about my opponents. The tendency of more violence among the victors was an alarmingly increasing occurrence. A woman’s chance at survival stood at a mere 40%. Six out of every ten women were killed right there on the arena floor, and who knows what happened to the ones that lived when they got back to their champion’s room. I’d be surprised if more than half of those lived to see the next day. The disease of violence had hit hard. It was unimaginable that these hippy wannabe concert goers could turn into such violent creatures. I guess given the circumstances and the stresses we were under that it wasn’t that far-fetched of a notion. We were all turning back to our baser instincts, but if our predecessors on Earth had killed off the fairer sex in the fashion and rate that was going on now, we would all be extinct. That I had the tenacity or will to kill another human being still left me weak-kneed if I thought about it too much.

My next battle was against No. 579, Andrew Jenkins. By watching his tapes it seemed to me that this man won more by luck than by skill, he sort of reminded me of myself. He was smaller than I was, but definitely more agile. It seemed that lightning quick hand speed was another of his virtues. This man had an uncanny ability to detect where his competitor was coming from and would thus lie in wait. One thing I noted with interest was that his preferred weapon was a knife. And every victim he faced, well, faced wasn’t a good word. Stabbed in the back would be a better description. He never saw any of his competitors’ faces as he killed them. And for some reason or other the killing blow was always delivered in the small of the back. He looked well practiced at this routine; I could picture him in a dark alley at night lying in wait for some unsuspecting victim. Man, I thought to myself, Widespread Panic drew out all sorts. The little
Mouse
Man, as I affectionately began to coin him, seemed to like the shrieks and throes of pain that ensued from this type of blow, it was not a quick mortal
strike
, but it was a
death hit
nonetheless. The camera zoomed in towards
Mouse
Man’s face and caught a smile of sheer delight; he looked like a kid that was about to get an ice cream cone. He took great pleasure in watching his victims flail about and try futilely to reach behind their backs and take out his weapon, which was slowly draining their life away. As his foe dropped to the ground to conserve what little lif
e force he still contained, the Mouse
Man would finally make his frontal assault. That was, of course, if they had dropped their weapon first. He would step in front of the person and just start mad kicking them in the face. Truly a little shit if I ever did see one.

I prepared for my fight against
Mouse
Man mentally, physically, and spiritually. I was ready and it was time. When we finally made it to the arena
Mouse
Man did little to convince me that he wasn’t part r
odent
. He was always looking around and twitching; he made my skin crawl. His shifting eyes were disquieting, they were always darting around looking for a place to run and hide. He constantly raised his head and sniffed at the air. I wondered, maybe he
was
a
mouse
and could smell his victims coming? And his 5’4” frame made me look like a giant. The terrain this time looked like something from an Isaac Asimov book. It appeared to be a city after a nuclear holocaust. Rubble was everywhere. Pieces of buildings stood but much more of them lay in pieces on the ground. This looked to be
Mouse
Man’s home territory, I was wondering if he had put in this request. From what I could tell on the big screen there appeared to be many hiding spots and only one or two possible pathways through the litter covered streets. Was the little turd licking his lips? No it had to be a trick of the light, it looked like he was even rubbing his hand
s together. We had
got to get this over with before I los
t
it completely.

The battle was going pretty much to plan, I wasn’t dead and that was a great plan thus far. I had prepared for one form of attack, if
Mouse
Man changed his routine in any way I could be in for a serious run. I started down the narrow litter strewn path that at one time could have been
Main Street
in any city. These aliens were really good at reproductions. From the looks of it they must have been watching us for a good long time. My heart was pounding in my chest, even more than normal in these situations. Fear gripped me like a vise; I had a premonition of a lamb being led to the slaughter. Then it happened, I felt a thud in the small of my back. I fell to my knees more out of relief than anything else. It was finally over.

*
    
*
    
*

Debbie screamed in horror. “Oh dear God no, please don’t let him die!” She stared at the screen in utter disbelief, unable to comprehend that her new found love was about to die and so was she. Tears flowed heavily from her eyes. Her vision was so blurred it was all she could do to tell in which direction the screen was, focusing on anything was beyond reason. But she wiped as hard as she could with her shirt sleeve when Stephanie yelled in a jubilant tone.

“He’s still alive, he’s still moving!! Get up!” she shouted.

Could it be? Deb thought to herself, could he actually take a stab to the back and still be alive? If
Mouse
Man would just get closer so that Mike could kill him the aliens would actually come in and fix him up. It was too much to hope for, and now she was hoping for the aliens to intercede.

Mouse
Man finally felt good. He felt as if he had come into his true calling. He had always been the brunt of his so-called friends’ jokes, but these aliens, well, they were ugly but they loved him and all he had to do was keep killing people. He got the jubilation from the throngs and all the free women to do with as he pleased. Life was actually good. He didn’t even care that he had not been ranked so high, it made killing his opponent
s
all that more satisfying. His 5’4” skin and bones frame made it incredibly easy for him to hide in some of the most unusual places. And he felt as if he could move more silently than should be normal. He was truly coming into his own. These ugly alligator things had given him more in the last month than all of society in the last twenty-four years. In fact, up until two weeks ago he had been a virgin, not something he was particularly proud of, but it was now no longer something he had to be concerned with. He loved this place. Maybe the adrenaline surging through his veins or the self-induced high he was on made him unaware that the knife had not struck home, because he took his time reveling in his glory. The smile on his face convinced Mike that he had absolutely no idea what was going on, except for the cheering of the crowd. True to form Jenkins aka
Mouse
Man came in front of Mike to finish off th
e
battle with his signature move. The crowd became silent, holding their collective breath to let out the
ir
roar upon the conclusion. Debbie and Stephanie watched in horror, embracing each other in their perceived final moments. Beth, higher up in the stands, shed a tear.

*
    
*
    
*

Time stood still. My heart beat once,
Mouse
Man reared back and let loose a bone crunching kick. My second heart beat brought my left arm to block the brunt of the kick, although I felt that he possibly may have shattered my arm again. On my next heartbeat my right hand came up and thrust the sword which had been trailing on the ground in and through the frail frame that once belonged to Jenkins and was now a soulless shell. His eyes grew wide in disbelief.

“You’re dead,” he whispered. “I killed you, you’re supposed to be dead now, they love me, can’t you hear it?”

He must have been listening to the voices in his head; the crowd was as silent as a hockey stadium after a playoff game in which the home team loses in overtime. I pulled my sword out of him and mustered my strength to stand. I didn’t think my heart would ever calm down. Even in death, his eyes had a gaze of disbelief forever frozen in them. I pulled my shirt up and to everyone’s amazement unstrapped the cushion from my weight bench. The aliens did nothing. Deb and Steph cried and laughed in relief. Rat Man’s corpse still stared in disbelief.

I yelled up to the stands. “Isn’t this what you wanted? You ugly fucks! Isn’t this what you wanted?”

More than likely there were only one or two in the stands who knew what I was saying; the rest probably thought that I was doing some sort of war chant. And that they did love, they went crazy. Hissing and cheering and clapping, it was sickening. I walked to the center of the arena and claimed my spoil. She was another blonde; my favorite flavor, I thought to myself. Don’t let this place take you down with it. Keep it together.

“Please,” she said. “Don’t hurt me.” Her voice was pathetically weak, to me it seemed that she had already resigned herself to a gruesome fate, no matter what the outcome on the battlefield today.

“Don’t worry,” I said, trying to be as reassuring as possible. But a picture is worth a thousand words, and here I was approaching her with a sword, my chest heaving from the surge of victory and the blood and gore of
Mouse
Man all over me. What a sight I must have been. “I’m here to save you my dear,” I said in my best Clark Gable impersonation. It wasn’t that good. I’m not sure that she was going to believe anything I said up to that point, but the tone I used and the true smile did more to calm her down than any of my actual words.

“Come on, let’s go home,” as I cut her bonds. “You can meet the other women.”

“There’s more women at your place?” she said in disbelief.

“No matter what you’ve witnessed out there, I leave it on the arena floor. The women who are at my cell are free to do as they wish, at least within the confines of the cell.”

That actually seemed to cheer her up a little bit.

“Now if you could do a little something for me.” She eyed me warily. “I could use your shoulder to lean on, my back and my arm are throbbing. I’m afraid I might fall over and I don’t want those things getting anywhere near me.” So she leaned in close and supported enough of my weight to get me back to my cell, with my dignity intact. And that was how I met Leanna. I’m pretty sure I slept for twenty-four hours straight and no matter how long it truly was it was definitely a deep sleep, because when I awoke I found myself in a totally new room. It was almost as big as my old house. There were three bedrooms and two bathrooms, a full kitchen and a den. I was wondering what real estate went for out in space these days. You’d probably have to pay a pretty penny for a place like this. I could almost get to like
it
, especially since I found myself wrapped up in Debbie’s arms.

“I didn’t think that you wer
e going to get up at all today
,” she said playfully. “You know you scared the crap out of me out there. See, you got me so upset I actually cussed. I never cuss.”

I was preparing my comeback when she put one finger over my mouth and made a shushing sound. I had begun to like her shushing techniques. With her tongue she outlined my now hardening nipple and traced a line of saliva all the way down my flat belly. For two days we stayed in that bedroom, never venturing far except to grab the occasional drink or a sandwich.

To look at my ‘prison’ one would have thought I was a multi-millionaire caught embezzling funds. Donald Trump in his heyday would have been envious of this place. But the most prized possession in the entire room was the window. It was no larger than a foot across and a foot tall, but it let us see that there truly was an outside to this ship. Even if it was cold, vast, distant space, it was still infinitely better than the confines of this alien vessel. It allowed us to see our planet, our real home, even though it seemed light years away.

“Do you think anyone down there can see us?” I said to no one in particular, but wanting everyone to hear. It was then that the newest addition to my entourage spoke.

“I’ve been thinking that same question over and over, why don’t they send help? And then I realize where we are and that more than likely this ship has some unbelievable defensive capabilities.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but what is your name?”

“Leanna. Leanna Cantrell. And I wanted to thank you for saving me.” 

“And Leanna, I wanted to thank you for carrying me back.”

“It was the least I could do,” she smiled. She blushed ever so slightly but quickly controlled herself when she saw  Debbie’s eyes on her. Obviously Stephanie had informed our new guest about the house rules. The budding tension was broken with Stephanie’s shout from the den.

“Look, the new ratings are coming up!”

I found myself being drawn to the screen, the competitive spirit in me was coming out in full force. I was sort of horrified at my morbid fascination for this tournament. But I had to know. It wasn’t a long wait either. There it was, and as if one we all let out a collective sigh. Luckily as advanced human beings we were above mere superstition, or at least I hoped so, because there I was, lucky No. 13. The field had trimmed down to a sve
lte 306 men. (Out of 4,000 plus
.) Even with all their advanced technology two more men had died needlessly. Well they would have died anyway, I thought to myself, sooner or later, it was just a matter of time. I spent the remainder of the day? Night? How do you tell that kind of thing in space, do the aliens even care? In any case, I spent the next few hours watching reruns of the events and I had to be honest my next opponent scared me the most. He wasn’t big and he wasn’t small. He was actually just about my size. He was the type that had made it thus far on wits, more so than power. So it was safe to assume that he was at this exact time watching
my
re-runs. This looked to be my toughest event yet.