Arena: Part One Read online

  17

  His father was at the kitchen table when Colston got out of the shower. The boy had already run, eaten breakfast, lifted weights and showered before his father ever made it out of bed. The pain medication had allowed him to continue his life as usual, though it felt as though it was beginning to wear off. His father sat there with his breakfast before him untouched. There was a small bald patch on the back of his head where Doc had shaved it to seal up the wound that Anna had inflicted upon him with the cast iron skillet the night before. He wondered if his father even remembered any of it.

  “Good morning,” Colston said.

  His father looked over at him. “What the hell did she hit me with last night?”

  “Frying pan.”

  “Well,” his father said. “I guess I had it coming.”

  Colston did not reply. It was strange to hear his father admitting guilt.

  “Sit down son. I’d like to talk with you.”

  Before he could though he caught a glint of sunlight off something coming down the dirt road that led to their house.

  “Someone’s coming,” Colston said as he pointed out the window at the spot in the road where he had seen the reflection of sunlight. Dust rose from the gleaming metal transport as it glided down the gravel road to the Carlson estate. The cloud of dust rose to its height and then fell back down to settle once again on the road. The transport was moving quickly. Whoever was inside was in a hurry to get there. Mr. Carlson rose and walked to the screen door of the kitchen. As the transport grew closer he opened the door and stepped outside. Colston followed.

  Colston and his father stood there waiting for the transport to arrive. They watched as it glided to a halt in front of them and the driver’s side door opened to reveal Jeremiah Woodley. “Good morning Carlson.”

  “Jeremiah,” his father said. “What brings you all the way out here today?”

  Jeremiah Woodley was a small, withered looking man, though he could not have been more than eighty. His back hunched over to a face filled with a hooked nose and bushy eyebrows making him look like a bird of prey.

  “Wanted to talk business. Figured we could do it inside though if it’s all the same to you.”

  The men did not shake hands. Colston’s father merely turned and went back inside, not bothering to hold the door for his guest. While Colston was no fan of Jeremiah, he certainly was not going to be as rude as his father. He held the door for Jeremiah then followed him inside and offered him a seat at the table where his father was already seated.

  “So what do you have for me today Jeremiah? Another deal that pays too little and gets another one of my fighters killed?”

  “That,” Jeremiah said, “was none of my doing. You could have put any one of your men up against Racus. It was your decision to put up Thomas. Besides, it turned out to be a hell of a fight.”

  “The only reason I put Thomas up was because you offered so little in the way of a purse,” Mr. Carlson said. “I wasn’t about to put anyone of value up for so little.”

  “Well,” Jeremiah said. “I’ve got a better deal for you this time.”

  “It would have to be much better if you expect me to put any of my men up. Who were you thinking of fighting?”

  “Racus.”

  “He can’t possibly be ready to fight. My own man put a sword in his gut not two weeks ago.”

  “I realize this better than you old friend. I was thinking more of the future. A fight for the ages. Your best man against mine.”

  “What are your terms?”

  The two men spoke at some length about money. They haggled back and forth until both men agreed on a purse for the fight.

  “Now,” Jeremiah said. “You just have to decide whom you will put up against my Racus.”

  “When?”

  “Well then, it will probably be another three months or so before Racus is back in fighting shape. The poor man has a colostomy bag attached to him at the moment. I’m certain you understand. Getting stabbed in the gut with a gladius is no small injury.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Carlson said. “I understand. You’ll let me know when your surgeon thinks he’ll be cleared to fight.”

  “He’ll need time to train once he’s well.”

  “Yes yes, I promise you I do understand how this works Jeremiah. Just give me a date when you can and then our lawyers can meet to draw up the contract.”

  “Perfect,” Jeremiah said as he extended his claw-like hand.

  Colston’s father took it and shook it quickly before pulling away and standing up to show Jeremiah to the door.

  When he was gone Colston and his father went back inside the house. His father sat back down at the table and stared at the food that was now cold on the plate in front of him. He pushed the plate away in disgust and rubbed his face with his hands before letting out a loud sigh.

  “I want to put up Cole,” Colston said.

  “What?”

  “Against Racus. I’d like you to put up Cole.”

  “He’s not ready for a fight like that Colston. I don’t care how big and strong he is.”

  “But he can be by the time of the fight. Jeremiah said it himself, it will be several months. I can have him ready. I promise I can.”

  “Colston…”

  “He has a lot of potential. You saw what he did to Riley when he was so drugged he could barely stand. And Riley was no slouch.”

  “I’m well aware of what Riley was and was not. But Riley was not Racus.”

  “But father…”

  “Okay okay,” his father said. “Listen. Once we have a date we’ll see.”

  “How?”

  “How do you think? We’ll have Marcus and your man face off in the pit. Winner gets to face Racus in the arena. Fair enough?”

  “Thank you,” Colston said. “Thank you. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  “The way I see it, I win either way. Either Marcus faces Racus in the Arena or we end up with a fighter even better than Marcus. Not that I think your man has a chance in hell.”

  “We shall see,” Colston said.

  18

  “So let me get this straight,” Cole said. “My first two fights are going to be against your father’s champion and then the regional champion?”

  “If things go well,” Colston said.

  They were standing at the entrance to a room in which Cole had never been before, the construction of which differed from the rest of the ludus. The outer walls were metal rather than block and the doors were not immediately visible from the outside. When Colston passed his hand over a spot in the wall two doors appeared and slid open, disappearing inside the walls. Colston motioned for Cole to enter then followed him inside with two protectors closely behind them. There was an area in the center of the room that looked to be the size and shape of the pit though there was no sand inside this pristine room. All the surfaces were a gleaming greenish metallic substance save for the control station at the far end of the room. The protectors took up their usual station by the door while Cole followed Colston over to the control station.

  “This is the virtual reality training room,” Colston said. “In here we can not only study past fights of any fighter, but the software allows for virtual training with any fighter in the database. It studies each fighter’s moves and formulates fight simulations based off what it learns from any patterns that it sees. It can predict a real fighter’s next move to within 93% accuracy.”

  “I’ve only heard of this kind of technology. Never seen it in use.”

  “What’s really cool is that the program can use shaped energy beams to simulate physical contact. So you can actually fight any fighter in the database.”

  “So every fighter is fighting their opponent before they ever step into the arena.”

  “Well, no,” Colston said. “There are currently only two ludus that can afford such technology.”

  “Let me guess, the other one is owned by Jeremiah Woodley?”

  “Brain
s and brawn, you’ll go far my friend.”

  “If I don’t die first.”

  “The beauty of this system,” Colston said. “In this particular instance anyway, is that there is no data on you. You’ve never fought in the arena and therefore there are no recordings of you.”

  “So if I manage to beat Marcus then Racus will have nothing to go off of.”

  “It gets better,” Colston said. “Because Marcus won’t have anything to go off of either.”

  Cole laughed at this. The sound echoed throughout the room, startling Colston. “What’s so funny?”

  “The reason they have nothing to go off of is because I don’t know anything. A single drug-induced fight for my life in the pit with Riley hardly qualifies me for a fight with either of these two. You said it yourself, with a sword Marcus would destroy me.”

  “Well,” Colston said, “that’s why we’re here. In three months’ time you will be an expert at both Marcus and Racus.”

  “But won’t it just confuse me learning both fighters at once?”

  “Well, that’s obviously a possibility. But, I think we have enough time to train for both a murmillo and a dimachaerus”

  “Murmillo,” Cole said. “Whatever that means.”

  “Sword and shield,” Colston said. “A very large shield. In fact, the hardest part about fighting Murmillones is getting around that shield. You’ll see for yourself though.”

  The room began to hum softly as Colston started pressing buttons at the control station. Soon a virtual pit appeared in just the spot Cole had imagined it should be. Then a myriad of fighters appeared and disappeared one by one as if by some dark magic. Finally Marcus appeared and Colston turned around to see his work. “There,” he said. “Now you can fight.”

  “It’s kind of creepy seeing Marcus just standing there.”

  “Yeah, it’s a little disconcerting at first. But, you’ll get used to it.”

  “So how do I go about this,” Cole said. “How do I fight him?”

  “Ah yes, I almost forgot.” He waved his hand over a spot on the wall and a panel slid out of the way revealing an armory of training weapons. “These weapons can be used with the simulation software without damaging the program. They’re made specifically for this system.”

  Cole walked over to the weapons and grabbed two gladius then walked back and stepped into the pit across from the rendering of Marcus. Every detail of the man was exact down to the tiny black hairs coming out of his nose. Cole tentatively reached out and touched the man’s arm. The skin and muscle beneath it felt real. The weight of the man himself felt right as Cole pushed against him. Then suddenly he roared to life and pushed Cole back and raised his sword and shield. Colston began howling with laughter at Cole’s reaction to this. To say he was not expecting it was an understatement.

  “Ha ha,” Cole said. “You’re a funny kid.”

  “Sorry, I just couldn’t resist when I saw you get so close to him.”

  Cole gripped his swords and readied himself. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  “Okay, I’ll start it off on an easy setting. But don’t worry about what setting it’s on because he’s still going to kick your butt.”

  “Thanks,” Cole said.

  A moment later Marcus sprang into action. He leapt at Cole, bashing him with the large, rectangular shield that he carried on his left arm. Then slashing with an overhand right that contained what looked like a real gladius. Cole’s right arm was pinned by the shield but he was able to block the sword blow with his own sword in his left. He pushed against the shield, pushing Marcus back then launched his own overhand right at the virtual fighter. Marcus easily blocked the blow with his shield then lunged forward with his sword striking Cole in the chest. The simulation ended and Cole was left standing in the middle of the room holding his chest.

  “That hurt.”

  “It’s supposed to,” Colston said. “It’s designed to mimic actual combat as closely as possible. Obviously it can’t kill you. But I suppose if someone were to override the safety measures it very well could.”

  “What a lovely thought.”

  “Come on,” Colston said. “Let’s do it again. This time try and remember what I’ve taught you about defense and worry less about attacking. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

  19

  That afternoon in the pit could not have been more different than the previous day. The sun was out without a cloud in the sky with not even a hint of wind to speak of. The air they breathed and the sand beneath their feet were both superheated from the sun that beat down upon them relentlessly. The weather was fitting for the first day of summer. Unfortunately it meant at least three more months of heat to deal with. Colston stood next to Jacob as they watched the men training. “I don’t want Marcus sparring with Cole for the next few months,” Colston said.

  “Be a challenge doing it without making it obvious.”

  “That’s fine. I don’t care if it’s obvious. They’ll be matched up soon enough.”

  “You got it, Colston. Just say the word and I’ll put them together a time or two just to gauge where the big man is at progress wise.”

  “You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?”

  “You mean putting the big man up against Marcus?”

  “Yes,” Colston said. “Do you think he has any chance at all?”

  “Well, he’s got a hell of a long row to hoe if you ask me.”

  “That’s not very reassuring.”

  “Well I don’t reckon you pay me to blow smoke up your ass. You’re old enough now to hear the truth when you ask for it.”

  “You’re right,” Colston said. “I was just hoping for a bit more optimism in your assessment.”

  “You know how this goes by now. There ain’t always a guarantee when it comes to the fight in one man versus the skill of another. If they were to fight right now it would be easy to say. But you got some time and I reckon that your sole focus with him is learning to fight Marcus and Racus, which ain’t a whole lot of difference between them if you ask me. So if you’re asking me if it can be done, I say just about anything in this world is possible. If you’re asking me if I think he’ll actually pull it off, well, that’s a different question entirely.”

  “Well, I guess it could be worse.”

  “Course it could. He could be half his size and asked to face the same task.”

  “So you’re saying his size is an advantage then.”

  “Depends,” Jacob said. “Depends on how he uses it. It could go either way to be honest. It could help him or it could be a hindrance. Didn’t seem to hurt him none against Riley though, so I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

  “Thanks Jacob,” Colston said. “I know you’ve been doing this a long time and I respect your opinion.”

  “Glad to help where I can, Colston. You know that.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it.

  “You go on now, I know you got other things to do than just hang around the ludus all day. I’ll see to it your man gets some training time whilst keeping him away from Marcus.”

  “Thanks again Jacob.”

  When Colston got to their room Anna was not there. He figured maybe Janice had set her to some task despite what his father had told her about letting her be to spend time with his son. He walked to the house to find her, but she was nowhere to be found. Perhaps Janice had taken her with her into town since it was her day to make a supply run. Thankfully he did not have to encounter his father while at the house as the door to his bedroom was closed. He decided he would go to their room in the ludus and work on his schoolwork while he waited for Anna to return. If she went anywhere looking for him it would be there and he wanted to be there when she did. It was not long before she showed up. Colston could tell something was wrong. She had been crying. That much was obvious.

  “Are you okay,” he asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  “Well, I
am,” she said. “I just had a fight with my mom is all.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No,” she said. “I most certainly do not. I just want to lie in bed with you and have you hold me.”

  “Well then, that’s what we’ll do.”

  “Could you lock the door please?”

  “Of course,” he said. Once he had locked the door he walked back to the bed where Anna sat on the edge waiting for him.

  Colston lied down on the bed and pulled Anna down with him so that her head rested on his chest. He loved the smell of her hair and listening to the sound of her breathing. But today she had a different smell to her. A smell familiar to Colston but one he could not place at the moment. He let the thought go as he lost himself in the feeling of holding her so close to him. He thought at one point that she might be crying, but, he decided not to ask her about it. If she wanted to talk to him then she would. He was not going to press her. Instead he would simply do as she had requested and hold her. It was all he could do and maybe it was enough.

  20

  They were at their evening training time watching fights of Marcus in the virtual training room. Colston preferred this to watching the fights on a view station as he could pause the fights and get in the middle of the fighters to show Cole examples of techniques commonly used by Marcus and some successful defenses used by his opponents. Anna was there watching with them. She had said that she did not want to return to the house as she was still angry with her mother over their argument. No matter the reason, Colston was happy she was there. It solved the issue of having to spend more time with Cole without missing out on time with her.

  The fight they were watching now was one in which Marcus had won handily against a vastly inferior opponent. Colston was using this fight as an example of what not to do. He wanted to get these out of the way first before moving on to more positive examples of defenses used against Marcus. “It’s just as important to know what not to do as it is to know what to do,” he told Cole. “The mistakes I will point out in this fight, and others, are what caused these men to lose and some to die. My hope is you won’t make these mistakes once I’ve pointed them out and we’ve trained them out of you.”