Max Arena (12 page)

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Authors: Jamie Doyle

Tags: #alien, #duel, #arena, #warlord, #max, #arena battles

BOOK: Max Arena
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Kris didn’t
reply, her attention fixed on Max, her eyes squinting. Then Max got
stuck into his leaping lunges and instead of keeping the dumbbells
down by his side as he leapt, he raised them out to the sides, arms
straight and unwavering.

Then he was
sprinting away and into the burpees at station five. This time he
did double handstand presses on each rep. After finishing them just
as fast as the first round, Max powered into the rope pull station.
With the weight pulled in the first time, instead of running the
weight back out to the start point, Max picked it up with both
hands and in an overhead throw, tossed it back out over the grass.
With his foot on his end of the rope, he stopped the plate from
dragging the rope away. Max then hauled it in again, and again, and
seventeen more times, throwing the weight back out every time.

Finally it was
muscle up time again. Max made no variations to the exercise this
time through, but his speed was simply incredible. No sooner was he
dangling full length from the bar, he was then on top of the bar.
Up. Down. Up. Down. No pause and at full speed.

Dropping back
to the ground, Max sprang straight into action. Kris stood waiting
for him at the final turn before he started the full length sprints
to the finish and caught his expression full on. It was all
consuming. Max’s eyes were like lasers and his look sheer purpose.
Just for a moment, as he ran towards her, Kris’ fears bubbled up.
An unnatural spark glinted in those eyes, dangerous and raw and it
deserved to be feared.

‘Better,’ was
all she could say as he ran past, the breeze ruffling her hair.

Max said
nothing and looked up to fix his sights on the other end of the
circuit as he bounded into the final sprint. Kris scanned the
surroundings again. Not only had
everyone
stopped to watch,
but they were now crowding in even closer. Kris could
feel
the energy around her. She could sense the heightened atmosphere.
The air was thick with it.

Looking back at
Max, he was now full on pelting up the middle of the circuit, his
former competitors all on their feet, except the blonde, shouting
and clapping. Max roared past them and three seconds later, stabbed
his feet into the grass to turn around at the end. As he turned,
Max again revealed his face to Kris and there was that expression,
still in place. All purpose. A chill sliced through her.

Like a cheetah
after a kill, Max powered immediately into top gear. Kris walked
across to the finishing line and stood directly in his path. Even
at one hundred metres, she could see him looking right at her, his
blue eyes boring into her’s. As he ran, Max’s bulk grew in front of
her. Kris could now feel him, his energy palpable, radiating off
him like heat from the sun. She knew her eyes were wide open and
her whole body tense. Larger and larger Max loomed, his solid
musculature rippling and pumping as he charged onwards. It was a
buzz. It was exhilarating.

Then, at the
last second, Max veered to the right and tore past her. Kris didn’t
move, instead she let the wash of his slipstream flow over her. She
closed her eyes and the thrill faded away. The show was over, for
today at least. Kris had expected something special to happen, but
this was beyond her imaginings. For the first time, Kris wondered
if Max was truly human. Then a cry from over her shoulder brought
her back to the present.

‘Choppers
inbound!’ came a shout from the Prime Minister’s head of
security.

Instantly,
Peter was in action, sprinting towards Max. ‘Get those birds
airborne!’ he called out while pointing to the three Black Hawks,
the flight crews scuttling into action. ‘Max, get the family into
the house!’

Max was already
racing over to grab the kids off Elsa.

‘Kris!’ Elsa
shouted. ‘Come with us!’

Kris stood
frozen for a moment.

‘Come
on
!’ Elsa shouted again as Max gathered both Millie and
Jason up into his arms and turned for the house.

Kris finally
moved, bolting into the protection of the Dyson’s security detail,
just as it enveloped them and started to move towards the
house.

‘How close are
they?’ Peter called out as he ran alongside his security team.

‘They’re
already here!’ the Prime Minister’s security chief yelled back.

Peter turned to
look and found the man pointing to the south over the hilly
bushland. Sure enough, three olive green Black Hawks had just risen
over the top of the trees and were already bearing down on the
estate, heading straight for the circuit.

‘Faster!’ Peter
called out. ‘Get Sword and Shield to the house!’

As a group, the
Prime Minister’s security detail had virtually lifted Joe off the
ground to start carrying him towards the house. Max, Elsa and the
kids were sprinting too, Peter and his crew still surrounding them
as they ran. Meanwhile, the Black Hawk air crews had abandoned any
attempt at take-off and instead, along with every soldier on the
grounds, retrieved their weapons and were busy positioning
themselves around the immediate area to provide covering fire.
House staff were running as fast as they could in any direction
away from the incoming helicopters. It was pandemonium.

Suddenly, a
strange voice shouted out from behind the Dyson’s skeltering group.
‘Wait! They are friendly!’

‘Wait! Wait!’
Joe also called out. ‘They’re American!’

Peter slowed
and turned back to look up at the incoming aircraft, the sound of
their chopping blades now very loud. He immediately checked the
insignia on the sides and stopped running.

‘Hold up,
fellahs!’ he called out. ‘Anchors, Max!’

Max also slowed
and turned. Both Millie and Jason craned their heads around their
father’s body to look as well. Elsa stood behind Max’s right
shoulder with Kris behind her. Peter stepped directly in front of
Max, placing himself between the Dysons and the intruding aircraft.
Peter’s team fanned out either side of him, shoulder to shoulder,
the team now a human shield.

‘They’ve got
stars and stripes on the side alright,’ the Prime Minister’s
security chief called out, ‘but what’s that other badge?’

Peter noticed a
second insignia on the central chopper and looked a little harder.
He then immediately turned to the Prime Minister, who was
straightening himself up after being put back on the ground, his
security detail still ringed closely around him, several of them
with guns drawn.

‘Sir, is that
what I think it is?’ Peter yelled across to Joe.

‘Yes, it is!’
Joe yelled back, his voice only just audible above the noise of the
encroaching choppers.

All three of
the aircraft were now hovering off to the side of the circuit and
Max got his first good look at them. Through the open cargo doors,
he could see two of the Black Hawks were loaded with soldiers, mini
guns bristling from both sides. The third, central helicopter had
less people in it and contained what looked like civilians. Max
also noted that the central helicopter bore a second insignia in
addition to its standard US military single star and striped wings.
The second insignia was colourful and intricate, but the words
inscribed around its circumference were plain and clear.

Max turned to
Elsa and shouted, ‘I don’t care what that insignia says! I don’t
trust any of this!’

Peter turned
and nodded to them both. By now, all three Blacks Hawks’ wheels
were bumping onto the grass, their bulky bodies in neat triangular
formation. A few moments later, the noise of the blades started to
whine down as their engines shut off.

Just then,
Peter suddenly spun to his right and in the blink of an eye, had
his handgun unholstered and in his hand, pointing it at a group of
strangers that had come up between his team and the Prime
Minister’s from behind. His entire security detail instantly
followed suit, their own guns whipping out in unison.

‘Wait!’ Joe
yelled. ‘They’re with me!’

Max flicked his
gaze around as well and found an odd group of five people. Four
gigantic, suit-clad bodyguards all stood in a perfect square, their
massive frames shielding a central figure all together different to
them. An Arab. The central figure stood calmly and without any
indication of anxiousness considering the knuckle-whitening tension
all around. The Arab’s face was the only skin Max could see, the
man’s eyes hidden behind sunglasses and his hands folded in front
of him within the generous sleeves of his flowing, white robe,
which billowed fluidly in the breeze from the slowing rotors.

‘Who is he,
sir?’ Peter called out.

‘A friend!’ Joe
called back. ‘You can trust him!’

At first Peter
did not move, his gun trained unwaveringly on the group. Then he
slowly lowered it and without reholstering, turned back to the now
stationery Black Hawks. ‘Eyes back on the birds, fellahs!’ he
ordered his crew, who all followed his example.

Then, soldiers
poured out from the three US Army Black Hawks to fan out in
crouched positions surrounding the aircraft, each of them holding a
machine gun and aiming it in the direction of an Australian
soldier. A stand-off ensued.

‘Put ‘em away,
boys!’ called out a drawling American accent.

Max shifted his
gaze to the central helicopter and found a silver-haired,
middle-aged man climbing out. The man was a little shaky and
ungainly, but as soon as he got both his feet on the ground, his
posture squared up and Max could tell he was a figure of authority.
He also recognised the man and despite his high office, Max did not
feel in the slightest bit honoured to be confronted with the
approach of the President of the United States.

‘Joe, is that
you?’ the President called out, waving as he approached the Prime
Minister.

‘Yes, Lester it
is,’ Joe called back while stepping out from the cover of his
security detail, his chief slotting in step behind him. ‘This is a
surprise. You know you really should have called first?’

‘Sorry about
that,’ the President drawled back, presenting his hand. The two men
shook firmly, but even from where Max stood, he could feel the
triteness behind the greeting. ‘I didn’t think you’d mind me
dropping in while I was passing through. Our trip to China got cut
a little short by all this alien baloney and well, your place is on
the way home and a little bird told me you’ve got the world’s most
mysterious man in your stables, literally by the looks of it,’ the
President said holding his arms out wide in reference to the stud
estate, ‘so I just had to stop by.’

‘Always a
pleasure to have you here, Lester,’ Joe said, slipping easily into
his renowned diplomacy skill set. ‘By the way, happy fourth of
July. Pity it’s not happier.’

‘You got that
right, Joe. The whole world’s gone crazy and why do we have to find
out like this that we aren’t alone in the universe? Why couldn’t ET
really be a friendly little pug like Hollywood said?’

‘Does it ever
turn out like Hollywood said?’

‘No. No it
doesn’t, but there is one thing that’s sure as hell Hollywood about
this and that’s the hero. Where is he, Joe? Where’s our mystery
man?’

‘He’s here. In
fact, he was just giving us a display of his prowess and I have to
say, Lester, based on what I just witnessed, I highly doubt there
is anyone more skilled than he to fight for our lives. He just blew
away the Australian Army’s finest and hardly raised a sweat.’

‘Well, that
might be something, Joe, but if we’re really going to test him,
let’s put him up against my rangers and seals. See who walks away
taller. Now where is he?’

‘He’s right
here,’ Joe said, turning and holding a hand out to Max.

‘You mean that
guy there. If he’s so good, why’s he hiding?’

Max put the
kids down and they scurried around to Elsa. Max then made to step
out from behind the security detail, but Peter put a hand up
first.

‘Stay put,
Max,’ he ordered. ‘Let the President in, fellahs.’

Max held his
place and the security detail opened out a little as the Prime
Minister and the President approached.

‘Mister
President,’ Joe said, ‘I’d like to introduce Max Dyson, his wife
Elsa and their two children Millie and Jason. Max, Elsa, this is
President Bartholomew, the forty-fifth President of the United
States of America.’

President
Bartholomew waited for Max to hold out his hand, but he didn’t and
then after an awkward pause, President Bartholomew finally held out
his own hand. Max took it and the handshake was firm. The President
looked him hard in the eye and Max returned the scrutiny.

‘Hmm, you’re a
big fellah,’ the President said, withdrawing his hand and looking
Max up and down, ‘but what makes you so special, Max? Why have
these aliens come from God knows where in the universe to threaten
us and pluck you out of six billion people to defend us?’

‘With all due
respect, Mister President,’ Max replied, his voice even and his
return gaze firm, ‘you don’t need to know that.’

The President
squinted, his pale blue eyes unyielding. ‘I think you’re wrong,
son. I deserve to know
everything
.
If
you step into
that arena, you’ll be defending me and the whole United States as
well as yourself, so we can either go inside and talk this over all
civilised like or if you want we can stand right out here in the
open. I don’t care, but before I leave, I’ll have my questions
answered.’

Max did not
move. The President’s face hardened.

‘Excuse me,
President Bartholomew,’ sounded a new voice, its accent exotic and
rich. The Arab broke from his security detail, removed his
sunglasses and approached Max, Joe and the President, his hands
appearing from his sleeves, his right hand extended, palm upwards.
‘It has been too long since last we spoke.’

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