Max Arena (59 page)

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 slower 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 split 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.

‘I love
you.’

12:25pm, 1
^st
January.
Glimmer

The
impenetrable blackness beyond the windows of the helicopter made it
seem as if Team Max were flying in a void, the world outside
consumed and gone. Even time itself appeared to have abandoned them
as the seconds stretched into minutes and the minutes stretched
into something immeasurable. Reality had drifted away and in its
place, Team Max had fallen into a dark, dark place, where the light
and energy of life had forsaken them.

No one had
spoken since they had lifted off from the arena island. Mute
silence shrouded Team Max, while fear and sadness threatened to
suffocate them. They had been victorious, but their triumph had
been achieved at the most awful cost and now, they were all in the
deep pit of mourning.

Max was dead.
He had defeated all his foes, including dispatching Macktidas, but
the effort had claimed his life. The final, electric struggle with
the alien warlord, coupled with his horrific injuries had been too
much for Max. His heart had given out and his indomitable spirit
had finally been broken. The victor had become a martyr.