Friday evening. I can’t eat before the fight; my stomach’s in knots. Wearing my black haptic fight-suit, I loosen up in the dugout beneath the arena. Out there, warriors display fight maneuvers to entertain and warm up the crowd. Three warriors stand guard to separate me from Dara, who growls in the opposite corner of the dugout. Brandy and Vivian give me words of encouragement that barely register above the din of the crowd.
“After taking down that brute yesterday, you can do this,” Brandy whispers.
However, no one except Sam has come close to holding their own with Dara.
When the steel door opens, Dara rushes into the arena. The crowd explodes in applause. I float over the threshold toward the single ringed platform in the middle of the dirt floor, and smell the sweat of a thousand fights. Voices thunder in my ears. I see Mom in the stands. Her blank expression doesn’t tell me whether she reached Nurse Wells. Janine nods when she has my attention. Focus. I get it, Babe.
While gliding toward the ring, I spot Captain Voss seated next to the governor in one of the box seats. Emily points my way. Warriors have cheap seats in the back where they place final bets. Odds have reached 300 to one. I wouldn’t place a buck on me. Dara strides up to the ringed platform as if she has already won.
She bows to the audience and receives cheers and applause. I give a slight bow and hear catcalls. Let’s get this over.
Sam, in dress blues, joins us in the center. Her bass voice resonates over the speakers. “Ladies, we present to you the final match of the Spring Knoxville Warrior Tournament. These recruits proved themselves worthy to stand before you as they prepare to step up to the challenge of defending our precious Union. Each has defeated four challengers to qualify for this match. I present to you Dara Tobias and Annabelle Scott.”
The crowd cheers as I imagine they did in Roman times for the gladiatorial spectacle. They chant “Dara the Terror.” With odds at 300 to one, I wonder who took the other side of that bet besides Brooks. I hope she didn’t wager too much.
Sam motions for us to climb into the ring and raises her hand for quiet. “Victory today comes when one contestant pins or knocks the other down for the count.”
Sam climbs into the ring, which she hasn’t done before. She turns off the mike. “Keep this clean. I want a good performance for the audience. Make me proud.” She shakes both our hands and climbs out.
Is this because Janine spoke to her about Dara? I look into the stands and match the intensity I see in Janine’s face.
Across from me stands Dara in her gray fight-suit. “Are you ready to be destroyed? Are you prepared to die?”
Intimidation doesn’t begin to describe the steely gaze Dara holds on me. Submit. She’s the biggest, strongest, meanest mother in the valley. I break the spell with a glance up into the stands. Mom’s face betrays the same fear I feel. Next to her, Janine sits in a trance, as if telling me on the mech com-link that I can do this.
Dara lunges forward with confidence, throwing her powerful physical presence at this pathetic excuse of a grunt–me. Where did I get the arrogance to believe I could hold my own against her? I don’t have her killer instincts.
“When I finish with you, I’ll seduce your sister and turn her into primordial mush.” Dara hits me in the stomach, sending me crashing to the matted floor.
Pain. Radiated heat. My stomach rebels.
I bounce away from my tormentor. You’ve crossed the line. You may be an amazon, but amazons are myths. It’s time to bust this one wide open.
Dara lunges and grabs. I leap aside, take her by the neck, and thrust her to the ground. Scrambling behind, I get her into a chokehold. She wrenches my arm loose. I can’t hold on.
Rolling, she gets on top. “You want to play rough? You don’t belong in the mechs, and I’ll prove it.”
Don’t tell me I can’t. I thrust Dara off and kick her thigh. She winces. I take no pleasure in it.
“You should have let Margarite win.” Dara moves toward me, slower, more cautious.
I attack, two punches to the head. She blocks, then kicks my legs from under me. I slam into the mat. She drops. I roll away, spin and slam my arm onto the back of her neck. It feels like I’m fighting a man in the arena. Dara’s muscles are thick from pumping meds and iron.
She gets to her feet and comes at me as if she could do this all day. “You think you’re clever, spending extra time training. It won’t help you.”
She kicks my legs. I jump to avoid her. She throws a right hook like a knife jab. I deflect, fall against the ropes, and drop to the mat. It’s as if a bus hit me. I should stay down, but then she’ll go after Janine.
When Dara approaches, I scramble away and get behind her. She turns. I rise up and clobber her jaw with my left. I follow through with a right that she blocks. The red imprint of my fist mars her face. It doesn’t slow her down. Dara lunges. I punch her stomach and chop her arm. She wallops my left arm and sends me crashing down.
I’m exhausted, tired of time on the mat. I don’t see anything I can use against her. She’s too well padded, with muscle. I get up.
Dara charges. “This will end badly for you.”
She kicks. I sidestep. Her punch glances off my jaw. She follows with a punch to the stomach. I block. It doesn’t matter; I careen backward.
I stay on my feet, bracing for another attack. She swings what could be a knockout blow to the jaw. I block and go down, missing the brunt of the thrust. I hit her hard in the gut.
She winces, falls back and comes at me again. “Let the punishment begin. When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to fight in the arena.”
I get behind her. She turns and pushes me into a corner. I want to take the fall. She won’t let me. I block; she pounds my arms. I want to scream: This is the end. Dara has me surrounded. I can’t get momentum to attack. She hits, hits, hits, spreading welts over my arms, legs and shoulders. I kick her thigh and fall against the ropes. When I bounce back, she hits me.
This has to stop. I fall. She lifts me with uppercuts to my stomach and jaw.
I focus on Dara’s eyes, trying to anticipate her moves, which come too fast. I envision her energy as my own. I’m fading. Fight the pain. I thrust out both arms and kick. I drop and scurry to the middle of the ring. When she turns, I punch. She blocks.
I retreat and deliver a kick to the stomach. We both go down. As I get up, I see Janine’s worried face. Focus. Take the fall. Make up your mind.
I’ve become a cross between a frightened mouse and a cornered rattler, without venom. Dara ambles toward me. I lunge at her midsection to throw her. She laughs, grabs me, and tosses me onto the padded platform. Dropping hard, I scramble away.
“Now I’m going to finish you off,” Dara announces as she gets to her feet.
Take the fall. Stay down. But she won’t let me.
On any of a thousand other nights, I’d lose without mercy to a true amazon warrior who deserves the title. Not tonight.
You will not touch Janine.
Anger bubbles up inside–all-consuming fury full of destruction. Some evil thing grabs hold. All that venom turns on Dara. In some perverse way, she’s the mech who destroyed my family.
Before she charges again, I lunge and grab her left wrist as she did Janine’s in the game. I twist to throw my weight in a leveraged move against her elbow.
“No! I yield,” Dara cries out.
I let go and kick her feet from under her. She goes down hard on her belly. I get her into a chokehold. This time, despite fury in her face, Dara doesn’t resist. “I yield.”
The buzzer sounds. I get up. Defeat spreads over her face like a dark cloud. I hold out my hand to help Dara up.
She refuses, gets to her feet, and scowls. “I underestimated you.” She reaches out and clasps my hand. “You didn’t fold under pressure.”
I grin. “I have you to thank for that.”
* * *
I take my bows before a boisterous crowd and shake hands with reporters until mine is raw. Then I flee down the gray underground corridor to the little suite off the gym, where I drop onto the bed. I need to be alone.
Through the door to the gym, I hear recruits and warriors congratulate me, shouting about how I upset Dara the Terror. I want to hide from the shame of what I did. It might not be illegal. Sam says there are no illegal moves. But it violates something inside me to attempt serious injury for Sam’s stupid tournament. Worse than that, I’m now the symbol of the hated mechs. Each day I grow closer to what I despise.
No miracles will bring back my birth mother. None can save my dad. None will spare me tomorrow, having to kill a boy or wash out and be sent away. If I’d taken the fall, I wouldn’t be a symbol of anything.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Belle.
I stand. At least now, Dara might think twice before hurting Janine.
After the voices outside fade and I’m certain the others are off partying with Dara, I’m ready to venture out. I need medical attention before facing the arena tomorrow.
When the door swings open, Janine falls inward, almost banging her head on the tiled floor. I catch her. “What are you doing here?”
Janine looks up, all innocence. “I’m glad to see you, too. You survived. You had me worried.”
She hugs me, the best medicine I know. It takes all my waning strength to keep from breaking down. I want to tell her everything. After all, she never wavered being here for me. “Is Mom with you?”
“She went home. I explained how hard it is when you win and can’t share because the victory is yours alone.”
“You’re full of it.”
Janine grins. “She bought it. Let’s get you to the infirmary.”
“I’m okay.”
“Stop acting so brave around me.”
She takes my hand and pulls me across the gym and down the dimly lit corridor to the infirmary. When we get there, the nurse is gone. Did Mom talk to her?
Sam sits in the corner, studying a medical screen. “You found her.”
“You read medical charts?” I ask.
“Before the war I was a doctor as well as a marine. Now let me look at you.”
I remove my blue sweat-soaked fight uniform. Too many red splotches and the beginnings of bruises. I have to stay strong when I see Janine’s eyes moisten. She turns away.
“I’ll say this for you,” Sam says. “You’re not a quitter.”
She jabs an IV into my arm. I wince. Everything hurts. Janine grips my other hand too tightly.
“Probably your best outcome,” Sam says. “Dara wanted to make an example out of you. Now she’ll respect you. So will the others.”
I don’t care. Instead, I savor electric warmth. Maybe it’s Janine revitalizing me, though I suspect it’s Sam’s miracle drugs. They’ll probably shorten my life by 20 years, as well as leave me infertile.
“I suggest no training tonight. Just rest,” Sam says. “You’ll need all your wits tomorrow. Training won’t help. I saw more focus today than I’ve seen from you before. That’s what you’ll need tomorrow.”
Sam leaves, brings us both some stew, and leaves us alone.
With the IV in my arm, I sit up and try to feed myself, but I can’t lift my arms.
Janine feeds me as I’ve done for her when she’s been sick. “You’ve never asked why I was so afraid of the dark, Belle.”
Between bites of savory chunky chicken, I manage: “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not.” She grips my right hand as she feeds me. “It’s because Mom was always working. I felt a terrible separation. I couldn’t have verbalized that then, but I know it now.”
I nod. I know that separation well.
“You were always there for me. You held me, and I needed that. Sounds crazy, but despite only being a year older, you’ve been like my surrogate mom as well as my best friend and sister and–”
I place my finger to her lips. Some things shouldn’t be said, particularly when I’m certain Sam has cams and listening devices.
Later, when I get her to the suite off the gym, Janine lies next to me as she has almost every night since I was three. I cup my hand to her ear and whisper, “It’s that ‘sister and more’ we need to cool down.”
“I can’t, Belle. You have no idea how hard it’s been for me these past six weeks being away from you. I know this can’t last, but I’m not ready.”
I haven’t the strength to fight her. There’s nothing I can say to change her mind. Worse, in that selfish place in my heart, I can’t bear to lose her. If only I could tell Janine about the adoption. Would it change how she feels about me, how she acts toward me around others? I can’t take that chance.