Max Arena (32 page)

Joe continued.
‘Secondly, this is no holiday retreat you’ve been invited to. We
need your help, sincerely. As you know, mankind and indeed all the
world, has been threatened by an alien menace that seeks to destroy
us for reasons we do not know. We will continue to try and
establish the reason for this threat, but also as you all know,
this menace has indicated one means of averting and nullifying this
threat and that is through the actions of one man. A chosen man. A
man who from the six billion people on this planet, has been
selected to enter a life and death arena to fight for the survival
of all that we know and hold dear.
If
this man is victorious
against whatever foes are pitted against him, we all will be spared
this threat and live on unchallenged and unharmed.’

The contingent
of reporters and photographers stood transfixed to Joe’s monologue
. He had them in his sway and he knew it. Joe kept on.

‘However,
despite this glimmer of optimism for peace, our way of life has
begun to erode due to the uncertainty of our future. Doom gathers
over us like storm clouds and fear has taken root in our society,
across all the world. The very fabric of our civilisation is in
jeopardy, even before this alien menace has set foot on our planet.
If we are to survive beyond the arena, then we as a species must
bond together to first make it to the arena. We are beginning to
falter as we let our fears grow unchecked and unchallenged. We are
beginning to die before we have even tried to fight back. We are in
fact killing ourselves. So, what we bring to you today and in turn
ask you to send across the world, is hope. We have a weapon with
which to combat our fears in this gathering darkness. We have a
torch that will shine a light on all our faces and lead us forward.
We have a champion, the likes of which none of us have ever seen
and have only ever imagined or read about in the wilds of mythology
and legend. We have a man, just one man and why he was chosen, we
don’t know, but thank God it was him because he is worthy of legend
and today, you will see him for the first time and the help we ask
of you is to tell the world about him. Take your message to every
corner of the globe. Show your pictures and vision to all who can
see. Shout his name and his might across the world for all who can
hear. It is time to beat the drums and bring ourselves together and
remind ourselves that we are human and we are powerful and in the
face of this spectre that seeks to bring us down, we are one.
We
are one.
’

Jaws dropped.
Eyes grew wide and the world became still behind Joe’s passion.
Goose bumps rose and tingled over skin. Even those in military
dress standing within earshot felt that same tingle. Joe held the
pause just long enough for his words to escalate the emotion he
needed his audience to feel. Searching the eyes of the gallery, he
found his message ingrained. His first job was done. Joe then
raised his left arm to the green expanse adjacent and said firmly,
‘I give you Max.’

All heads
flicked around to the circuit course laid out on the grass and the
group scrambled to their cameras, jostling as they moved. Joe
slipped quietly away and started to make his way towards a marquee
that had been set up at the end of the circuit closest the house.
Under the shade sat Abdullah, his gaze hooded behind his
sunglasses, but Joe knew he was scanning the scene in front; the
grassed circuit, the media gallery and across the other side of the
circuit, the Pain Train, it’s orange bulk and massive “X” the
perfect backdrop.

Joe sat in the
vacant chair next to Abdullah and also cast his gaze across the
scene in front. Then, lifting his hand, Abdullah rested it on Joe’s
forearm next to him and without turning spoke quietly.

‘Thank you,
Joseph. Your words reflect your soul. You are indeed the right man
to lead us.’

Joe nodded and
felt goose bumps rise on his own skin. Even he was looking forward
to this.

Then the door
of the Pain Train began to lower, the ramp slowly opening until it
closed onto the rich green turf. A few moments later, Max strode
out of the trailer and directly into the public eye, the world
collectively holding its breath.

9pm, 7
^th
August (later that night).
The World Sees

‘Well, it’s
official,’ Kris said as she walked into the sitting room after
dinner to join Max, Elsa, Joe and Abdullah. ‘Max, you’re the most
famous human on the planet right now. This morning’s training
footage just went to the all time top on YouTube, knocking Gangnam
Style off the top spot with over three million hits and that was
just today.’

Max who was
standing at the wide open threshold leading out onto the immense
stone balcony simply turned and raised his bottle of electrolytes
to her, nodding as he did.

‘That’s my
man,’ Elsa said, smooching over and snaking an arm around her
husband’s waist and pulling in close. From his seat on the couch,
Abdullah cast a quick glance over the rim of his cup of tea to Joe
who nodded back from his own seat on the opposite side of the
coffee table.

‘So, I think
this deserves a celebration,’ Kris continued. ‘Someone mentioned
something about a wine cellar downstairs and if whoever owns this
place is as rich as I think they are, then that cellar must have
some pretty flash champers in it. Who’s up for a glass?’

‘I’m in!’ Elsa
called back.

‘Great! Who
else?’ Kris asked. ‘Max, as your trainer, you can have
one
glass. Maybe two if you promise to give me double burpees
tomorrow.’

‘Gee. You know
how to charm a bloke,’ Max replied, turning back in to face the
rest of the group. ‘Guess I’m in then.’

‘It would be my
pleasure to join you,’ Prime Minister Joseph Tollsen said.

‘Your
Highness?’ Kris asked, turning to face Abdullah.

‘Thank you, but
no,’ Abdullah said, bowing in his seat and lowering his cup of tea
to his lap.

‘Oh,’ Kris said
suddenly, raising a hand to her mouth. ‘Sorry. Sorry. Religion
right?’

Abdullah smiled
and nodded. Kris then held both her hands out in front, a blush
colouring her cheeks.

‘Please, do not
be concerned,’ Abdullah said, his smile widening. ‘My indulgence is
watching you all enjoy the fruits of the cellar. Toast away.’

Kris smiled now
too as she and Abdullah looked at each other a little longer than
intended. Elsa nudged Max in the ribs with an elbow. Max nudged her
back.

‘Well,’ Elsa
said dramatically, ‘I’ll go find the butler then shall I?’

Kris stirred
herself and looked around. ‘Ah, yeah,’ she said. ‘Um, I think you
just dial zero or something for room service don’t you?’

‘You just sit
down and I’ll sort it out,’ Elsa replied, moving across the room to
the sideboard to pick up the phone.

‘So, Max,’ Joe
began, ‘it’s about now we need to ask how skilled you are with
Twitter?’

‘Technically,
Joe, I don’t even have a smartphone,’ Max answered. ‘In my hands
that Samsung I’ve got is a dumbphone. I’ve heard of Twitter, but if
I had to tweet to save my life, I’d be as good as dead.’

‘Well, perhaps
it’s time the old dog learnt a new trick,’ Joe replied. ‘You can’t
be the lord of social media and remain mute. Tomorrow we shall have
to teach you how to speak, Gen Y style.’

‘Mister Prime
Minister, I wish you luck,’ Max said, turning to look back out over
the balcony to see only the blackness of a moonless night. ‘I
really do.’

‘Champagne is
on its way,’ Elsa announced, crossing to sit on the couch next to
where Kris had seated herself. The two of them slapped hands in a
high five and giggled.

‘We’re number
one,’ Kris sang.

‘And we’re
having champagne,’ Elsa followed on.

Abdullah turned
and placed his empty cup of tea on the side table next to him
before rising to cross and join Max by the opening. From beneath
arched eyebrows, Joe watched him move past. Instead of following,
Joe deliberately leaned forward and distracted Elsa and Kris into
conversation with him to leave the two men alone.

‘Come,’
Abdullah said quietly to Max, ‘share some fresh air with me,
please?

Max looked to
his side and tracked his gaze on Abdullah as he stepped out onto
the darkened balcony, his gleaming white robe still shimmering
beneath the star light. Max followed him outside, leaving the halo
of light from the sitting room behind.

‘I have a
palace,’ Abdullah began, ‘which is washed by the shores of the
Arabian Gulf. It has a balcony much like this one and it is on that
balcony that I find the greatest peace, late at night.’

Max held his
silence. Looking out to the horizon, the stars gleamed like a
billion diamonds cast across a sable blanket. Abdullah
continued.

‘The sharpness
of the salt and the cool of the breeze both stimulate and ease my
mind. I find it as restful and as calming as any moment I spend in
prayer. As Allah is my lord and protector, right at this moment, I
feel as if I am at home on that balcony.’

Abdullah closed
his eyes and breathed in a deep lungful of the sea breeze. Max
turned to see the silhouette of his new friend’s face against the
gentle light from the living room. He then looked back up at the
night sky and traced his gaze from star to star.

‘When all this
is over,’ Max said,’ you should make sure that balcony is the first
place you go.’

‘I will, my
friend, and I would dearly love for you, your family and all of us
here tonight to come with me and share my balcony with me.’

That’s a deal,’
Max said, turning and holding out a hand.

Abdullah also
turned and looked down at Max’s hand and then back up at him.
Reaching out, he warmly accepted the handshake with both hands and
then before letting go he said, ‘Max, today you became an internet
sensation and if we can keep the momentum going, we may just hold
mankind’s course long enough to make the arena, but be aware, you
also made some deadly enemies.’

‘How do you
mean?’ Max replied.

‘Most will see
you as a potential saviour, but there are some, a powerful some,
who will have confirmed you as a potential threat.’

‘I’m no threat.
You know that. The only thing I’m bringing down is whatever turns
up in that arena.’

‘What you need
to know, is that while the majority of the world is living day by
day to make the arena, there are some whose pursuits force them to
see beyond the arena and plan for all of the possibilities that may
await after your possible victory.’

‘People like
you
, you mean?’

‘Yes. People
like me, who recognise this time for what it is. A watershed. Win
or lose in the arena, Max, be rest assured, the world will never be
the same again. If you die, we all will possibly perish in a storm
of violence and death. However, if you win, the man-made boundaries
of international politics and sovereignty will shift and change.
How exactly, I do not know, but it is inevitable. I can already see
it happening and as I said, there are those among us in the
international diplomatic community that are already seeking to gain
advantage in any unsettled time post the arena and it is these
people who feel threatened by you, who may rise as a force to be
reckoned with.’

‘Do you know
who these people are?’

‘I know some
and many of them I can waylay or fend off, but we are fast heading
for even more tenuous times. We may be able to restore some
semblance of order back to the world in these last few months, but
these new enemies will now target you directly. Be vigilant, Max.
You are surrounded by friends here in this place, but as the saying
goes, sometimes the wolf presents itself in sheep’s clothing and
when the disguise falls away, you must act and act decisively.’

Max held his
gaze locked on to the gleam in the Sheikh’s eyes. From inside the
living room, Joseph looked out onto the balcony and found them,
standing close together in firm silence. At that moment, Joseph
felt the same tingle run up his spine that he had felt this morning
while watching Max perform for the media.

Greatness stood
outside, just beyond the light, but Joseph knew that in those two
men, Max and Abdullah, the light shone so powerfully that the world
had to stand up and take notice. Today’s spike on social media
would take hold and it would grow. They had planted a seed of hope
and now they needed to make sure it bloomed. A stand had finally
been made.

From behind his
White House desk, the United States Chief of Staff scrutinised the
face of General Robert Stratton. Seated across the room in the
burgundy coloured chesterfield couch, the Chairman of the Joint
Chiefs of Staff had held his pause for longer than was comfortable,
the extended silence not boding well for a palatable response.

‘I can hear
those big, brass wheels of your’s grinding inside your head from
this side of the room, General,’ Charles Ingot the Third said.
‘What are they telling you?’

General
Stratton looked up and said, ‘No.’

It was now
Ingot’s turn to pause. ‘What
precisely
does “no” mean,
General?’

The General’s
eyes locked onto the Chief of Staff’s, his pupils chips of blue
steel. ‘I will
not
provide you with any assets to challenge
this man.’

Ingot’s eyes
creased to slants as his knuckles whitened. With a tense jaw he
spoke in a highly measured tone.

‘I thought we
were in this
together
?’ he asked. ‘No, doesn’t feel like a
team play.’

General
Stratton did not flinch. ‘In matters of politics and diplomacy, you
Mister Ingot, are the expert. In matters of military combat on
scales both grand and individual, I am the expert and in this
matter I say, I have no assets that can best this man, so I will
not place them in harm’s way. If you wish to further this pursuit,
you will have to find alternate means outside of the United States
armed forces.’