I’m halfway through my drink when the first fighters enter the caged ring to cheers and jeers. The crowd presses in closer as the two men taunt each other. The referee goes through a dramatic introduction as the fighters bounce around, giving the audience a show. Then he signals for the fight to begin.
I find myself drifting out of the corner, trying to get a better view. I’ve never seen a live fight before. It’s a brutal, animalistic display of human power and endurance and I’mfascinated. Probably because I’m seeing men bleed willingly for a change.
The man in the red trunks, Callahan, has about thirty pounds on the other fighter called Nunez, and it shows when they stand toe-to-toe in the seventh round, trading blows.
I sigh as the ref lets the beating go on longer than it should. Nunez flies backward from an uppercut. The crowd roars as the ref holds up Callahan’s arm in victory.
An unconscious Nunez is lifted beneath his armpits and dragged out of the ring to jeers.
I set down my empty glass and follow them. Time to go to work.
I follow the two burly men as they drag Nunez into a locker room and then into a smaller room to the right, where a cot has been set up beside storage boxes. They drop him onto the cot like a sack of potatoes.
“All yours, Doc.”
I nod and unzip my bag on the concrete floor. I check his breathing and his pulse then maneuver him onto his side in case there’s any vomiting.
Then I tap his shoulder and jaw. “Nunez, can you hear me?”
No response. I remove his boxing gloves then disinfect a large gash on his browbone and apply butterfly stitches. There’s not much else I can do here, except make sure he wakes up and doesn’t have any signs of serious head trauma that would need to be treated in the ER.
I shake his shoulder lightly. “Hey, Nunez, can you open your eyes for me?”
After a few minutes, the man stirs and groans. “What happened? Did I win?”
Shaking my head, I shine a penlight into his eyes to check his pupils. “Can you tell me what day it is.”
He groans as he shifts on the cot. His dark hair is slick with sweat. “Saturday.”
I palpitate his ribcage. He winces, but I don’t feel anything broken. “And your full name and birthday.”
He rattles it off, trying to sit up.
I push him gently back down. “Why don’t you just take it easy for a few minutes and let me monitor you. Make sure there’s no serious trauma.”
“Shit.” He rolls over and throws a thick, sweaty forearm over his eyes. “Can’t believe I dropped my hands like that. Idiot.”
“You made it seven rounds with a guy a lot bigger than you. It was a good fight.” I don’t know why I’m trying to comfort an underground fighter, but here we are. I don’t like to see anyone beat themselves up.
He chuckles but it’s dark and unamused. “Can’t patch up the hit my ego took on this one.”
Beyond the outside wall comes muffled cheering. The next fight must be starting.
I stay with Nunez until he’s stable enough to sit up and sip a bottled water. Then I head back out to watch the next fight, which is in its fourth round.
Both fighters have swollen eyes and blood trickling from gashes in their face. It’s a more even match and more brutal. The fight gets even dirtier after the ref turns a blind eye to thrown elbows and hits below the belt.
The atmosphere has changed. Along with the alcohol-fueled excitement there is now a darker emotion. Bloodlust. I feel it permeating the space like fog, hanging in the air along with the sharp, coppery scent of blood and sweat beneath expensive cologne.
A quick glance at the faces around me, at the shining, feral eyes locked on the two men beating each other to a pulp, the jeering voices demanding harder hits, and I back myself up against the wall. This feels like it could turn into chaos at any moment.
What’s going to happen when the main fighters step into the ring?
Chapter 26
Killian
Adrenaline is pumping through my veins as I warm up with the jump rope. I arrived about fifteen minutes ago and haven’t seen the crowd yet, but I catch bits of the noise when someone opens the door. I haven’t seen my opponent yet, either, though I’m sure he’s already in the locker room. Only thing I’m sure of is he’s going to be a cocky fucker.
