Unbroken (10 page)

***

Joel was almost late for his training session that morning after Amber had insisted on demonstrating her appreciation, over and over.  He almost had to fight her off trying to get her to let him get ready to go. 

He sped through his training, his mind on other things.  As usual, he spent most of his time studying technique and working on his stamina, foregoing weights and strength training.  He was more of a technical fighter and figured he would have time to build up more power behind his punches later.  For now, he decided it was more important to be able to last long enough to go for the submissions he had been perfecting.  In the past, many of his wins came from those submissions and he wanted to concentrate on his strengths.  Chris argued that he needed to be more well rounded, as there were times where your opponent forced a boxing match no matter how much you wanted to wrestle.  Joel could see the value in that, but he would have time to focus on that later.

He was fighting tonight, and it was a big one.  His opponent was from out of state, but rumored to be unbeaten.  He was on vacation and looking for some action while away from home.  Randy had told Joel it would be a big payday because there were a lot of people that had heard about this guy and wanted to see him fight.  He figured winning this one fight alone would probably net Joel over a grand.  Maybe a lot more.

When he finished at Rock House at around six, he went through his normal routine.  He headed to the shelter nearest to the fight for a nap, and then woke up in time to walk to the venue.  This time it was inside of an abandoned factory.  When he got there, the parking lot was full and he could hear the noise from the crowd even before he opened the front door.

Inside waiting for him was the biggest crowd he'd seen at one of these.  Easily a couple hundred people, and he could see that Randy was already walking around with his assistants, taking bets.  When he noticed Joel, he waved him over and they stepped away to talk privately.

"You ready for this one, kid?"

"Of course," Joel said.

"This guy is big," Randy said, motioning with his head. 

Joel looked over to where he had indicated.  Standing by the wall of the factory was a huge monster of a man.  His arms were thick and corded with muscle, and his long legs reminded Joel of tree trunks.  He had tattoo sleeves running up both arms and seemed to have virtually no neck that Joel could see.  He went from broad muscular shoulders directly to a head that was topped with a closely cropped haircut that looked like it had been done at a military barber.  Joel tried not to look disturbed by the size of the man and just nodded.

Randy laughed nervously.  "Well, the bigger they are the harder they fall, right?  That's what they say."  He clapped Joel on the shoulder.  "Good luck, kid.  We start in five."  Randy returned to the crowd to continue collecting bets.

He's big, but can he fight?
  Joel knew from experience that size didn't really mean anything if there wasn't enough technique to back it up. This guy was unbeaten, but who knows what the competition was like where he came from.  Joel had been training with actual professionals.  He'd been working a lot on his stamina and technique lately.  Surely he had the advantage.  As big as this guy was, he'd have to lug all of that weight around.  Probably tires him out pretty quickly.

"Joel, hey!"

His attention shifted to the familiar bald man that had recognized him from his tournament.  He'd seen the man come to a few of his fights since then, and wasn't surprised to see him here again today.

"That's one big mother fucker," the man noted.

"So is Carlos," Joel responded.  "But I'll still happily kick his ass if I ever get the chance."

The other man gave a slight nod, pursing his lips as if he was doubtful, but too polite to say it.  Joel shrugged and turned away.  He'd dealt with doubters all his life.  He usually proved himself with his fists.  He wondered whether he'd ever get the chance to do that with Carlos.

Walking back through the crowd, Joel pulled off his shirt as Randy started the introductions.  The crowd cheered when he announced Joel.  He imagined how much louder it would be if he ever made it to the big time, fighting in massive Las Vegas casinos or city stadiums. 

Then Randy introduced his opponent who apparently went by the nickname the Executioner.  The crowd roared even louder when they heard that.  He wondered, not for the first time, whether he should have a nickname of his own.

The fight began and both men approached each other.  As Joel suspected, the big man wasn't quick, and he started to strategize how to use that to his advantage.  Each step the man took was an awkward forward shuffle that led with his right leg as he seemed to drag the rest of his bulk up behind it.

His opponent was standing in a traditional fighting stance, with his right arm raised near his face, squared off with his right knee, and his shoulder facing Joel.  As they got closer, Joel noticed the tattoo that was plastered across his entire upper arm.  It was a very detailed image of a muscular man with a black hood draped across his head and face.  His hands held a sharpened axe that lay across his shoulder, dripping blood.  The entire tattoo was black and white except for the blood, which was bright red.   He wondered which came first, the nickname or the tattoo.

Joel decided to make his move, anticipating a slow response from the big man.  With a burst of speed, he swung his leg up and slammed it into his opponent, right under the raised right arm and then pulled it away before the big man could respond.  He connected solidly, but the Executioner barely even flinched.  Instead, he took another step toward Joel.  Joel moved a step back, trying to keep out of reach.

The crowd reacted with a roar when he had thrown his kick, but now they booed as he moved out of reach, thirsting for more action.

He leapt forward again, this time throwing two punches at the big man's mid section and then slipping away just as his meaty arms came down to try and grab for him.  And again, although his punches were solid, the other man didn't seem to be affected by the attacks.

Again the man advanced, and as Joel stepped back he reached the edge of the crowd behind him.  Usually the circle would move as the crowd kept a relatively equal distance between themselves and the fighters.  Tonight, though, they weren't getting out of the way.  Joel wasn't sure if it was because there were a lot more people here than usual, and maybe they just didn't know the etiquette, or if it was because they thought they could force more action by blocking his retreat.  Whatever it was, he was trapped from moving back any further.

Before he could decide what to do, the other fighter attacked.  He took another step forward to close the gap and then threw a roundhouse punch at Joel's head.  It wasn't quick and Joel had plenty of time to raise his arm to deflect it, but the sheer power of the other man pushed right past his block and his fist connected with the side of his head, knocking him off balance.

He could hear the crowd around him roar as they finally stepped back, anxious to not become part of the action themselves.  It was too late for Joel, though.  He tried to stagger back out of the way, but the Executioner moved forward again before he'd completely recovered.  Another fist drove into him, this time hitting him right in the face after once again pushing past his guard as if he were a white belt on his first day of class.

Joel felt his nose explode on impact, covering his mouth and chest in hot, wet blood.  The power behind the bigger man's punches seemed impossible to him, each one like a wrecking ball.  He'd been hit in the head plenty of times before, but never so hard. 

As his opponent raised his fist again, Joel leapt forward, pushing past the pain and dizziness and thrusting himself inside of the big man's reach as he slammed his own fist into the side of his huge head.

The Executioner's chin moved to the right on impact but then snapped back, a humorless smile plastered across his face.  He reached around Joel's neck and grabbed him in a iron-gripped head lock.  Joel threw his knees and elbows at each exposed part of his captor's body, but each one may as well have been thrown against a brick wall.

Suddenly, he felt that massive fist crash into his face again, and then again.  A pressure was forming around his head as it was squeezed, reminding him of when he'd try to pop a zit back in high school.  His last thought was whether or not his head was going to explode in a similar manner as the room darkened around him.

Amber

"Oh my god, what the hell happened?" Amber cried out as Joel staggered through the door.  She'd never seen him like this, not even after he'd lost the fight the night they'd met.
  His face was a mess.  His nose looked crooked, and there was dried blood everywhere.  His left eye was black and completely swollen shut.

He opened his mouth to say something but then began to cough into his hand.  When he brought it away she saw the bright red shine of fresh blood on his palm.

"Shit, Joel, you're coughing up blood?  You might have an internal injury, we need to go to the hospital!"

"No," he croaked.  "It's just from my mouth."  He opened his mouth to show her his left canine was missing, the gap still oozing blood.

Amber gasped at the sight, but a thrill of relief flooded through her as she realized it wasn't something more serious.  She was still horrified at the sight of him.  She reached forward and put her arm around him, leading him to the couch. 

"I'm going to get some ice," she said after sitting him down.  There was a welt on his forehead the size of a baby's fist.  "What happened?"

She hurried to the kitchen, putting some ice in a paper towel and worrying about her boyfriend.  The last time he'd been injured seriously he'd had a concussion that was left untreated for a while.  If he was hurt badly this time as well, he'd never admit it. 

Joel was laying down across the couch with his eyes closed when she returned.  He still hadn't given her an answer.  Her lips pressed tightly as she pressed the ice to his head.  He opened his eyes in surprise at the sudden cold.

"You were fighting in alleyways again, weren't you?" she accused.

Joel closed his eyes again, but he mumbled a response.

"What?"

"I said it was an abandoned factory, actually."

Amber pressed down hard with the ice against his welt, causing him to gasp in sudden pain.

"You promised me you were done with that," she said.

"I know.  I'm sorry."

"Why the hell would you do this again, Joel?"

He didn't respond for about a minute, and Amber wondered if he had fallen asleep or passed out.  Then he took a deep breath and opened his eyes again.  At least, she thought he was trying to open them both.  The swollen one was too battered to tell.

"I wanted to live with you.  I wanted this to work.  But the only way I could convince myself to do it was if I could pay my way."

His voice was quiet and weak.  Was it because he was tired and hurt or ashamed?  She wasn't sure.  "There's no job at Rock House, is there?"

Joel's head moved slightly before he winced.  "No.  I'm sorry, Amber."

She let out a long and shuddering breath.  She was angry that he lied, and even more so that he put himself in danger again.  But now wasn't the time to deal with that.  "I know.  Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?  I think your nose is broken."

"It is," he said.  "But no hospitals."

"Fine," she said.  She removed the towel from his head and took the ice out, placing it on the table next to the couch.  Then she gently wiped away the dried blood from around his nose and held the towel against his nostrils.  "Blow."

The towel turned crimson as he did.

"How long ago did this happen?"

"I don't know, maybe 30 minutes?  I took a cab back afterward."

It was cutting it close, but she could still help.  She raised her palms and brought them together and then lowered them so that they were touching the top of his nose.  "This is going to hurt," she said.