Page 197 of Everything Under the Sun

“I hope you’re not as fragile as you look!” Kade shouted over the noise, breaking me from my thoughts.

I’m not, I wanted to say, but instead I shouted back, “When will Atticus fight?”

Kade shot into a stand and thrust his fist into the air as the first two fighters entered the area out ahead. He yelled obscenities, pumped his fist a few more times, and then took his seat again beside me. Those all around me sat back down in unison, clearing my view of the arena floor again.

“I don’t know,” he answered over a wave of excited shouts. “But you should forget about him. It’s his first time, and the first fight is always a fight to the death.”

Yes, I’m aware of that already; no need to remind me.

“And he wasn’t lookin’ too good when we found you,” he went on, “so his chances aren’t great.” His hand jutted out, gesturing at the fighters. “These two are first-timers,” he said. “One of them will die tonight”—he made a sudden noise under his breath that resembled laughter—“I bet you can guess which one.”

I tried hard not to think about Atticus’ fight, and rather to focus on his escape, but it became impossible to do when I took in the sight before me: two men, one as skinny as a rail, the other like three large men combined to make one, walked in a wide circle; the skinny one trying to stay out of the other’s reach.

“This doesn’t look like a fair fight.” I was thinking out loud rather than talking to Kade. “This isn’t right.” I couldn’t believe they’d pitted the small one against the other.

“It’s anything goes,” Kade said. “Fair, unfair, right, wrong, it doesn’t matter—that’s what makes it so entertaining!”

I turned to face him.

“Entertaining?” I echoed with bite in my voice. “These are people’s lives you’re gambling with—how can you live with yourself?”

Kade smiled over at me. “Easily”—he shot into a stand again—“Come on! Do something already!”

The smaller fighter was backing up against the crowd as the giant went toward him; panic twisted his face…Wait, his face…Why does he look so familiar?

I leaned forward, trying to get a clearer view of the man, but no matter how hard I concentrated, he was too far away and blocked by too many people to get a decent view of him.

A man sitting to my left stood bolt upright, nearly knocking me over.

“Hit him! Hit him!” Saliva flew from his lips. “Come on!”

I shuffled the flowing ruffles of my long skirt underneath my thighs to keep the man from sitting on them when he sat down again; I wiped away the sprinkles I’d felt land on the top of my arm.

“Stand up so you can see,” Kade told me and offered his hand.

I shook my head. “I don’t want to watch,” I said, but he grabbed my hand anyway and pulled me to my feet.

I focused on the back of the head of the woman in front of me, but when the giant fighter’s hand collapsed around the smaller fighter’s throat like a vise, I watched the fight with paralyzed horror instead, unable to tear my gaze away.

The man lifted the other off the floor by his throat and the volume of the bloodthirsty crowd went from excited to boisterous; the man to my left stomped the bleacher floor so powerfully it shook like an earthquake and I was forced to grab onto the nearest person for balance. I released Kade’s arm as quickly as I’d touched it, hoping he hadn’t noticed, and he was so fixated on the fight I was glad he probably hadn’t.

The small fighter fell fast toward the floor, his legs out in front of him, the man’s hand still around his throat, and when he hit, the back of his head made a popping noise I could hear over the shouting voices and stomping feet on metal.

My hands went over my mouth with a sharp, horrorstruck gasp; my eyes shot open as far as they could when all I wanted to do was shut them completely; and my legs felt almost too weak to hold up the rest of my weight and I nearly lost my balance. It took three seconds and the fight was over, an innocent life snuffed out by a barbaric new world.

A crown of deep red pooled around the dead man’s head; I saw the fingers of his right hand twitch and I stared across the long space between them at his eyes, open and empty, and even through my sadness I couldn’t shake the feeling I knew him, or that at least I’d seen him somewhere before.

The crowd roared and stomped; the bleachers shook and moved underneath the weight of so many people, but not even the threat of the bleachers collapsing and taking me with them could shake my mind free from the very real possibility of Atticus being that man lying there. I regretted all the times we saved our bullets and didn’t kill larger animals for food and adequate protein; I regretted all the times Atticus gave me the healthier portion of our meager fish catches, the bigger handfuls of blackberries and pecans. He could’ve been so much stronger than he was when we were captured; he could’ve been ready for a fight. To the death. Oh, Atticus! How can I help you, my love? What can I do to get you out of here? I wanted to weep into my hands; I wanted to push Kade off the bleacher next to me and jump over the head of the woman in front of me, and I wanted to run out into the arena and stop this inhumane injustice. But what really could I do that would make any difference?

Nothing.

Nothing!

I sat unmoving next to Kade, staring now at my shaking hands rested within my lap, and I did…nothing.

The second fight was more fairly matched. And no one died.

The third fight was between a man and a woman. And the man almost died. They dragged him off the arena floor by his feet, unconscious, his head busted open, leaving a small smear-trail of blood behind him. But he was alive because someone had announced it.

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