Fight to the Finish (2 page)
Molly crossed the floor to where he lay and knelt down beside him. She reached out and put her hand on his clammy forehead. As usual it felt hot.
Too
hot.
Slipping her backpack off her shoulders, she rummaged around inside for the things Red had sent her to get: Ibuprofen, Gatorade, and cough medicine.
“Red,” Molly whispered. “Please let me take you to the emergency room.”
He’d been like this for three straight weeks and wasn’t getting any better.
“No,” he rasped and coughed again. “I told you, I’ve been like this before. I’ll be fine.”
Molly sighed. She’d known him ten years and that was what he always said when he got this way. That it was just side effects of things that had happened when he was in the military.
To her it seemed more serious than ‘just side effects.’
He didn’t want to go the hospital because he was afraid.
Afraid they’d find out who he was. Afraid they’d find all of the street kids. Afraid he’d die. Afraid this warehouse would be raided. Afraid of everything and everyone.
And although he’d never admitted it, Molly suspected he was hiding from something, from someone.
Red brought his arm out from under the covers and with a shaky hand opened the cough medicine. Molly handed him four Ibuprofen, and he swallowed them dry, then gurgled down some of the cough stuff and set the bottle aside.
He gave a slight nod for her to go on. “Skedaddle, little one. The fight starts soon.” He pointed a finger at her. “And you promised me you wouldn’t fight tonight. You need a break.”
10
Molly nodded slightly as she slipped her hand into his. She studied his dirty fingernails and large rough hands.
Please don’t die
, she wanted to say, but knew he’d bop her upside the head if she did.
Red squeezed her fingers. “Go on. I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Bobby can handle the fights,” Molly suggested, referring to one of the other street kids.
“I’d rather stay here with you.”
“Jonesy will be back any second.” Red let go of Molly’s hand. “I won’t be alone for long.”
Jonesy
. Molly almost snorted. Jonesy was
the
most irresponsible of the kids that lived here. In fact, Jonesy was the one who was supposed to be watching Red right now.
Slowly, Molly got to her feet, knowing Red would engage in an all out argument with her if she didn’t leave.
“Who’s fighting tonight?” he rasped.
“Larry the Louse and Charlie big man Cheeseburger.” Molly shoved her hands in her back pockets. “Cheeseburger’s gonna win.”
Red chuckled. “Yeah, he’s got Larry two to one in weight.”
Molly snorted. “What’s that got to do with anything? Everybody’s got me in weight.”
Red smiled. “True. And you manage to submit ‘em every time.”
Molly shrugged. “What can I say? I was taught by the best.” The best being Red.
She’d never seen another fighter more skilled than him. And although he didn’t talk much about his past, he had said he’d been trained in Asia. He’d taught all the other kids that lived here to fight, too. Mostly to defend themselves on the streets. None of the others loved the art as much as Molly, though.
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“I knew the moment I met your scrappy little five-year-old self, you had a gift. You had that boy twice your size bloodied up and in a heap on the ground. Fighting comes naturally for you, Molly. It was easy to teach you. You’ve got it flowing in your blood.” He huffed out a breath. “Yep, you’re something else.” Red chuckled and it rolled right into a coughing fit.
Cringing at the sound, Molly went to her bed, got a roll of toilet paper, and brought it back to him. She unrolled a wad and handed it to him and watched him spit up blood.
“Red,”
she
whispered.
“Go on now, Molly.”
“Red . . .”
“When’s your next fight?” he changed the subject.
“Not ‘til tomorrow.”
He nodded toward the door. “Go on now.”
Nodding, she backed away, staring at his body as he rolled to his side and put his back to her.
She slipped through the heavy clear plastic covering the doorway and out onto the steel landing. Pulling a slim flashlight from her front pocket, she twisted the head and shined the light down the spiral staircase that led from one floor to the next, five stories down to the bottom.
On floor four, Red and her and some of the other homeless kids had set up a make shift kitchen with stuff they’d found on the streets: A two burner propane camping stove, couple of aluminum bowls for sinks, dishes someone had thrown out right after Christmas, and even an ice box that kept things cool for a week.
On floor three they had running water. Red said someone at city hall forgot to turn it off when they condemned the firehouse some twenty years ago. It wasn’t hot water, but at least it 12
Molly smiled at the memory. She’d been so filthy when he’d found her fighting that kid in the dirt.
Floor two of the firehouse was nothing. Just steel beams. No floor even.
Floor one was dirty and nasty, but safe. They purposefully stayed clear of it, though, so if anyone on the street happened to look in a window they’d see only a condemned building in dire need of a clean up.
The fight club was in the basement below floor one.
With the fight club on her mind now, Molly put the flashlight in her mouth, stepped from the landing, snaked her body around the steel pole, and whooshed all the way down five stories to the bottom. She crossed the floor to the corner where Red had installed a trap door.
Pulling the rug aside, she used the rope handle and lifted open the hidden door. Sounds of the fight club shot out the opening. Yells, chants, grunts, and a thumping bass from the room’s stereo.
A stairwell led from the trap door down to a landing. The landing led to nowhere, just the ceiling rafters of the firehouse’s basement. If Molly or one of the other kids that lived with her wanted to get down to the fight club, they simply slid down a rope that had been attached to the rafters.
Tonight, though, Molly would stay in the rafters. She was in charge of emceeing the fights.
13
Jogging down the stairwell, she hopped onto the landing, grabbed the bullhorn she’d left there last night, and walked out onto the rafters. From her high up view point she surveyed the crowd.
About thirty of the usual customers. Mostly men. She did recognize a few new people.
That was good. That meant the club was growing. All of them entered through a secret passageway in the nearby train station. That was part of the allure. The secretiveness, exclusiveness, the betting, hoping for a gruesome fight. It fulfilled some dark side of them.
Molly didn’t care as long as they threw around their money. Money her and Red put aside for all the kids. To one day make a better life. She felt a bit a pride at that. Thanks to her, this fight club existed. She’d begged and begged Red to let her turn the basement into a fight club. Last year, he’d finally given in. And they’d seen nothing but profit since.
A whistle pierced the air above the sound of the crowd. Molly looked down and straight into Bobby’s eyes. He winked at her, indicating he’d gotten all the bets and it was time to start.
Hanging onto the steel rafters, Molly held the bullhorn up to her mouth. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she yelled. “Welcome to tonight’s fiiiggghhhttt!”
Everyone
screamed.
“Tonight,” she continued, “we have two of the best street fighters in Chicago. We have Larry the Louse and Charlie big man Cheeseburger.”
The
crowed
roared.
Molly’s hand tightened around the bullhorn. “There are no rules in this fight club. Be clean, be dirty. Fight good, fight nasty. Knock ‘em out, leave ‘em standing. No rules, except . . .”
She purposefully paused, just like Red had suggested, knowing it was what the crowd expected, knowing it would get a rise out of them.
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“Blood, blood, blood,” they chanted.
Molly rolled her eyes. “No rules except BLOOOD. We have to see BLOOOD.”
The crowd roared.
And then everything happened lightning quick. Some of the patrons pulled guns out and yelled, “Freeze!”
Someone else threw a canister and the underground club erupted in smoke.
Molly didn’t spare a second. She sprinted across the dark rafters onto the landing and up the stairs. She shoved open the trap door, climbed through, shut it behind her, and covered it with the rug.
Red. She had to get to Red.
Taking the spiral stairs two at a time, she hoofed it up five stories. And barely winded, she threw the plastic aside and ran into the bedroom. A tall man stood beside where Red lay.
Without a second of thought, Molly flew across the room, caught air, and executed a round house, landing the heel of her left foot in the man’s sternum, right at his lung meridian point.
He stumbled back and gasped for air.
“Stop.”
Red
commanded.
Molly came down on both feet, hands up, ready for anything that came next. “Who are you?” she asked the man.
The man held his hands up, palms out. “My God, Red, you’re right.”
Red chuckled. “I told you she was something else. This girl’s got a gift.”
Molly didn’t take her gaze off the unknown man.
15
“Thomas Liba,” Red said, “I’d like you to meet Molly. We have no idea what her last name is or when she was born. But she said she was five when I found her, which would make her almost fifteen now. She’s four foot eleven. Ninety five pounds. Red hair. Green eyes. She is, hands down, the best fighter I’ve ever trained.”
“Molly,” Red continued, “this man is here for you. I want you to go with him.”
Molly still didn’t take her gaze off the man, Thomas Liba. “What are you talking about?
I’m not leaving you.”
“Do you remember Tommy, that fourteen year old kid I told you about?” Red asked.
Molly nodded. “Yeah, you said he pulled a knife on you and asked for all your money.”
Thomas Liba chuckled at that. “And my life has never been the same.”
“He was a street kid,” Red put in. “Just like you. I took him in and trained him. This is him, Molly. This is Tommy.”
Molly eyed the man.
Red coughed. “You and I both know I’m sick. I need help. But I can’t go to a hospital.
Tommy can help me. He can help you. There’s a lot about my past you don’t know. One day I want to share it with you. But I have to get better.” He paused. “Molly, look at me.”
Slowly, she took her eyes off Thomas Liba and focused down into the face of the only family she’d ever known.
“Go with Tommy,” Red said. “You can trust him. I promise I’ll get better and we’ll see each other again.”
“When?” she asked.
Red shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’ve never broken a promise to you. If I say we’ll see each other again, then we will. If you don’t go with him, I can’t get help. I
won’t
get help.
16
For a long minute, Molly stared into Red’s eyes. She would do anything for him. And she knew he would do anything for her. If this was what Red wanted, this was what she would do.
Molly nodded to Thomas Liba. “I’m yours.”
He nodded back. “Call me TL.”
17
Wirenut pulled the ranch’s van into the Boardwalk’s packed parking lot. The Boardwalk stretched three miles along San Belden, California’s coast. Amusement rides, food, dancing, roller blading—you name it, the place had it. It never closed down.
He turned around in his seat to face all of us. “Now kids,” he jokingly began, lowering his voice to an authoritative tone. “I want you to remember we represent the San Belden Ranch for Boys and Girls.”
Wirenut looked at me. “Okay, Miss tall blondie. You will behave yourself. No hacking into anyone’s computers. You hear me, GiGi?”
I saluted him, hiding my smile. “Yes, sir.”
“And you.” Wirenut looked at Beaker. “No mixing of strange chemicals. And absolutely no more body piercings.”
Snapping her gum, Beaker nodded her pink dyed head. “You got it.”
“And you.” Wirenut narrowed his eyes at Bruiser. “Youngest member of our clan and today’s birthday girl. No beating anyone up.”
Flipping a red braid over her shoulder, Bruiser batted her lashes. “I’m only here to celebrate my sweet sixteen.”
“And you.” Wirenut switched his attention to Parrot. “No speaking any foreign languages. English only tonight.”
Parrot
smiled.
“You.” Wirenut nodded to Mystic. “Mr. Thick Neck. No reading of fortunes.”
Mystic put his hand over his heart. “Never.”
18
Wirenut turned to the van’s passenger seat where Cat sat. “You,” he softened his tone,
“my gorgeous, Mediterranean, goddess are allowed to break into
anything
you want to.”
“Hey!” we all objected.
Cat reached across the space between them and tugged on Wirenut’s dark goatee. “And you are absolutely
not
allowed to tinker with anyone’s electronics.”
Wirenut pulled her over for a swift kiss. “Deal.”
I smiled, a little sad despite the happiness around me. They’re cuteness together made me miss David.
“Okay, enough already,” Bruiser said, pulling open the van’s side door. “Let’s paaarrrty!”
She jumped out. “It’s my birthday. Yo, yo it’s my birthday. Everybody say woot-woot, it’s my birthday.” She danced across the parking lot. “It’s my birthday. Yo, yo it’s my birthday.
Everybody say woot-woot, it’s my birthday.”
We laughed at her silliness as we piled out of the van.
As we walked through the parking lot, memories of David flooded back. We’d gone on our first date here at The Boardwalk. We’d ridden the Ferris Wheel and explored all the eclectic shops. We’d eaten too much junk food and shared beautiful kisses. He’d won me a stuffed giraffe.
Inwardly, I sighed. I had really messed things up with him when I told him about kissing Professor Quirk on my last mission. David had said he needed space and time to think. And then TL had sent him on a pre-op assignment that had turned into a month long trip. I’d heard from David exactly twice a week via text messages. Unfortunately, they were the kind of texts he’d send a friend, not a girlfriend.
HEY. JUST WANTED U TO KNOW I’M HERE SAFE.
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