Renegade Rupture (25 page)

Dave didn’t even notice the Boon standing before him now. He looked right through it, staring at the old man, the taker of his love. He felt tears coming on and halted them by sheer will. His bear, Slumby, picked up on his feelings and turned around to face his partner.

“You still got some life left to live. I’d walk away if I were you, boy,” Keith muttered.

Dave was old. He knew it every morning he crawled out of bed and looked at himself in the mirror and rubbed his bald head and white, stringy hair. To be called “boy” brought him back to the time when he was. Anger wrapped a vice around his usually smooth tongue. He was afraid to speak. Anger made everything vibrate within him, even his voice. He would not show such weakness. So instead, he thought it.

You took my wife, my joy, my peace, my world. You took everything, and you still taunt me? Why? What drives such a monster?
Dave thought.

“Never were much for confrontation. Even when you attacked me, there was so much fear in your eyes, your stumbling stutter. Pathetic. Go on back to your team. I’d hate to take more from you,” Keith said.

“I’m not afraid of confrontation, but what happens after. I lost control once, and you never walked again,” Dave said. Kieth frowned at that.

“This is personal, between you and me. I’m old, I know that. I don’t have much time upon this world, so I offer a deal. We may never see each other again. How about we end this, like men of old? I hate you, you hate me. Let us have a duel, to the death, over the woman we both so loved. My sweet, sweet Eleanor,” Keith said.

“DON’T YOU SAY HER NAME!” Dave bellowed.

“So, you accept the terms?” Keith said. “Think about it, you can send my soul to hell early. Come on, boy, grant this old man his dying wish. I know you can’t get me out of your head, I know my face haunts you every night. Wouldn’t you rather picture me dead, wrapped in the hot embrace of burning flames of hell, than free to wheel about this world? What say you? We’re both old, we cannot do battle as we once did, but our souls, our spirits, everything we are lies within these Boons of ours. Let’s put them to the test, throw it all on the line,” Keith said.

“Dave, please, you do not have to do this,” Narroway said. “Just win this match, get the point.”

“Narroway, when your wife was killed, wouldn’t you do anything, anything to face the killer?” Dave asked. “Even at the risk of your own life?”

Narroway fell silent.

“Exactly,” Dave said.

“As soon as you agree to this, there will be no going back, you know that,” Narroway said.

“There’s no going back as it is,” Dave said. He turned to see his son in the stands, then turned to Narroway.

“Do not announce this out loud, I beg you. For those watching, this is but a normal match,” Dave said. He turned to Keith. “I accept your terms.”

“Then you know what to do,” Keith said. “I’ve already bonded my soul to my Boon; you know why? I knew you’d accept. You can be played like a fiddle. I’m ready, I’ve been ready for you, and no matter who wins or who loses, one of us will see Eleanor today.”

“Not where you’re going,” Dave said. He walked over to his bear. “Hey, old buddy. Change of plans.”

With that, Dave powered up his essence, placed a hand over his heart, and then placed his other hand over Slumby’s heart. With each beat, man and beast opened the gateway of the soul and passed through until their heart beats became one. Once the link was complete, the door shut and locked behind them. Dave went to stand on his line and glared at Keith, who glared back, as bear glared at honey badger.

Narroway, face white, looked at his friend’s twinkling, blue eyes, stalling to start. Dave looked at him and nodded.

“Do it. Please, don’t embarrass me, not in front of my son,” Dave said. Narroway raised his hand, left it skyward, then let it drop.

“Begin,” Narroway said weakly.

Immediately, the honey badger charged, zipping and weaving, its white stripe on its back making it look snake-like. Slumby stood its ground, although shaken by the honey badger’s war cry that sounded much like drowning children.

“Wait for it, Slumby, patience, patience,” Dave ordered. Slumby continued to stand its ground as the honey badger was one leap away from striking distance, and leap it did, right at Slumby’s face.

Dave didn’t need to give the order to strike. Like a ball-player, Slumby swung his paw, claws extended, striking the honey badger mid-flight, and spiking it down to the floor.

As if it didn’t notice, the honey badger merely bounced, rolled, and was on the offensive again, this time striking low and forcing the big bear to back up and dodge. To and fro the two beasts went, Slumby with massive, dedicated, slow strikes, and the honey badger with ruthless, fast, wild strikes, neither of them able to connect. The king of the forest and the king of the barrens, known for driving off lions with ease, were locked within a stalemate of dodges and strikes. Thinking human brains were behind each strike, swimming in a pool of rage so deep, it threatened to drown them both.

Then, claws met face, and the truth of their terms was revealed to the crowd, including Dave’s son.

The honey badger rolled over the bear’s stamped paw, then leapt straight up, striking the bear beneath its right eye, leaving three long lines upon Slumby and also upon Dave.

The old Renegade reeled his head back. He hadn’t been struck in the face in ages. He touched the three tender, evenly spaced cuts and held out his hand to reveal his hand was stained with his own blood.

“Dad . . . no . . .” Shaved said, realizing this was no longer just a fight, but a duel to the death.

“Life-link . . .” Grandfield stammered. He couldn’t help it. Tears rolled down his face, born from linked memories of his own deceased father. And now, here again, he may see his best friend’s father die. Worse yet, all they could do was watch and . . .

“He’ll win,” Knob said, breaking both Grandfield and Shaved’s fragile thoughts. Knob stood to his feet, cupped both hands over his mouth, and did what every good crowd member supporting his team would do.

He cheered.

“KILL HIM! KICK HIS BEAVER ASS, DAVE!” Knob said.

“It’s a honey badger!” Grandfield said.

“Whatever . . . DAVE! DAVE! DAVE!” Knob screamed and, to Shaved’s surprise, all around him began to pick up the chant with Knob leading the way. Shaved looked at him. Knob felt his gaze and didn’t return it, only smiled as he sang Dave’s name, louder and louder. No one cheered for the wheelchair bound, elderly man, not that it mattered to him. He wasn’t in a stadium right now. He was bathing in his pool of hate, trying to force the other man to drown first.

“HAH! THE CROWD CAN’T HELP YOU! YOU’LL DIE, right here, right now! You’ll,” Keith wailed. As an entire stadium cheered one name, his name, Dave couldn’t help but feel as if this match was over. He felt young again. The stiffness in his joints went away as a flow of adrenaline, like aged wine in the depths of his being, exploded within him. His heart hammered in his chest, the back of his neck prickled, his skin turned red, as Keith jabbed away with his words.

“NO MORE TALK!” Dave screamed as he mentally ordered a precise attack.

“Hah! Even when I die you’ll hear my voice, even when I . . .” The old man didn’t want to be interrupted, but had no choice. His sentence was cut off as the honey badger opened its mouth for a lunging strike, only to meet Slumby’s thrusting, furry paw, the ultimate nullifier for a chatty nuisance.

Suddenly, the old Strife felt something sting the back of his throat, a huge claw that no doubt snipped his hanging uvula like an apple from a tree. Blood filled his mouth and spilled out over his lips and onto his lap as the bear dragged its claw out, dragging it across the honey badger’s tongue, severing the tip of Keith’s own tongue in the process.

“ACK! ACK! KIH OU! KIH OU!” the man gargled out.

The honey badger, free from the bear’s quick and precise strike, ran up the bear’s arm, not at all phased, unlike the human it was linked to, and dug its claws into the bear’s shoulder, biting down.

Dave dropped to one knee, grabbing his own shoulder, as the bear in turn rose on his two legs, trying to grab the thing off of him. The honey badger didn’t just bite, it shredded, tore, and wriggled its head back and forth as if in a wild seizure, tearing and clawing until it got down to the meat. White flints of bone and meaty chunks rolled down both the bear and Dave’s back as the bear roared and Dave screamed.

But the honey badger wasn’t satisfied with one ruined shoulder. The bear was still standing, so, in a desperate leap, the honey badger went right for the bear’s face.

In a flurry of scratches and bites, the honey badger burst the bear’s right eye open like a giant white pimple, wriggled it free from the socket, and swallowed it.

Both the bear and Dave’s minds swam with pain. It wasn’t just the loss of one eye that blinded them now, but the white hot flashes of raw, tender pain and loss of blood that threatened unconsciousness. Dave was losing everything, and then he felt the claws dig in above his left eye. Soon, both eyes would be gone and darkness would take over, forever.

Keeping up with the seemingly limitless energy and speed of the honey badger was hard enough. Without vision, the thing would pick him apart like a stuffed turkey. He had come to it now, the moment every fighter reaches, where not only his opponent is attacking him, but his own mind as well, begging him to stop, to embrace the darkness, to take death hand in hand like a long lost friend . . .

Dave knew that he had let himself go over the years. He couldn’t help it. He was happy, and happiness gave way to pleasure, relaxation, good times with friends, and great, overwhelmingly great, food and beer. As long as he was with friends, with his son, he did not think of his wife. He said hello to everyone and everything just to start up a conversation, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was sleeping. Anything to not let his mind wander to . . . it.

He couldn’t even bring himself to think it, let alone say it. Ever. His heart was wounded, and rather than enter the wound, he simply covered it. He was old, he was tired, he was spent. It was too late for him, not enough gas in the tank, not enough energy to visit the memory he had pushed down for so long . . .

The crowd still cheered, but it was growing dimmer, and Dave came to a curious thought. Was it the cheer that gave him the strength, or was the strength already there? Suddenly, he listened, listened carefully, and through the raging crowd, he heard a voice, one voice, the only one that mattered to him now.

The voice of his son, cheering his name. He focused on it, grabbed for it like a life preserver. Once grabbed, he simply pulled, pulled up everything that was left in the basement, even the darkest parts. If this was to be his last stand, he would leave nothing behind. He would show his son what it was to be a man. In that moment, he felt young again. Everything he kept down, wouldn’t face, held in . . .

He knew what he had to do. To truly heal a wound of the heart, he had to enter it, admit what he never could. Thinking it wasn’t enough, he had to say it; he had to order his body forward by will alone.

In a quick snap for anyone, let alone a bear, Slumby grabbed the honey badger just as its claw was millimeters away from puncturing its right eye. Slumby yanked the beast free and held it before his face as it wriggled like a snake within its paws, screaming that awful wail.

“You killed her. You killed what I held most dear in this world, the most beautiful, kindest creature I ever knew. You did this; you let her die, not me, YOU! YOU! There is no high road to be had here. Only one of us will see this sunset, and that . . . THAT WILL BE ME!” Dave yelled. Slumby squeezed and squeezed the honey badger’s head as Keith screamed, grabbing at his own head.

Both Slumby and Dave squeezed, tighter and tighter, as if wringing out water from a rag. The bear began to glow green, along with Dave, as the two of them roared, pouring out years of pent up strength, frustration. They now sounded very much alike as the honey badger’s head, along with Keith’s, twitched unnaturally, then finally burst apart like a dropped watermelon, spraying not seeds, but meaty grey matter and blood all about.

“Winner TEAM RENEGADE!” Narroway screamed, but Dave didn’t hear it as he limped to his bear. His bear limped to him. They fell on the floor, both catching one another in a loving embrace as soul and man were finally cleansed, and together, free . . .

Chapter Eighteen:
Not a Hero

“So much for that! All that training, and I didn’t even get to fight!” Gisbo said, looking down at Fao, who whined.

“That’s the way of the world, my boy. Ooooh,” Dave groaned as he sat at a table in the commons.

“Take it easy, Dad,” Shaved said.

“It only hurts when I swallow,” Dave said. He tilted back another frothy mug and groaned again as it went down. “That time felt better though; just a little more and . . .”

“Dad, you could’ve died out there,” Shaved said. “Why would you agree to that?”

“Some principles, son, are worth more than your life, and to protect them, your life needs to be put on the line. I’d be wallowing in guilt now, wishing for death, if I never accepted. You’ll understand one day,” Dave said. “Some things are worth sacrifices. Besides, this new eye patch makes me look like a total badass! Think it’ll get me free drinks?”