I lock eyes with him, hoping to share a moment with him, maybe shed a tear or two together. I search for any indicationhe’s just as scared as I am. At first, I think he’s scared, too, but his fear must be hidden by the daggers trained on me.
The chains fall and clatter at my feet. Free only to roam tonight’s hell.
Master slaps his arms on my shoulders and massages them. “You ready, kid?”
“For—For what?”
He bends down behind me and points to the pup on the opposite side of the arena from me. “See him? That’s your opponent. He’s the current champ. All you have to do is hit him until he doesn’t get up anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re going to have to kill him, kid.”
My jaw drops, and my breathing picks up. I try to back away, but Master holds me still. “No, no, I can’t. I won’t. I’m only nine. I don’t wanna kill him.”
“You either kill him, or he is going to kill you.”
None of this makes sense.Why would anyone want us to fight? Why would he want to kill me? Is he mad at me? No. Why would he be mad? I don’t know him.
“No, please don’t make me do this. I’ll be good, I promise,” I beg my Master.
He pats me on the top of my head once and backs away from me, leaving me standing alone in the ring.
“In this corner, weighing sixty-four pounds, our newest contender... make some noise for Bait,” the announcer echoes.
The crowd boos, and I duck as they throw things at me.
Tomatoes.
I remind myself to grab one when I get out of here.IfI get out of here.
“Alright, alright. Settle down, everyone, so I can introduce to you... your defending champ. Weighing ninety-five pounds...With a record of eight kills and a fall as quick as one minute in the first round... Your champion... Stone Cold Jones!”
The crowd roars and Stone Cold Jones flexes his muscles. No one throws any tomatoes at him, though.
“Now... are you all ready for a dogfight?”
The crowd woofs and howls, but their imitations are poor, not like a wolf at all.Are these humans?
The arena lights shut off, and the crowd disappears. The only lights on now are pointed at Jones, the announcer in the funny blue suit and me.
The announcer motions with an open palm to the ground, and I follow Jones’s lead as he walks to the center. Face-to-face with the pup, he’s got bite marks and scars that I would only expect to see on a warrior.
I’m not the first one he’s killed. So, why would he hesitate to do the same?
I gulp.
“Alright, let’s have a good, clean fight and give these people the show they came for. No shifting until the second bell goes off. Biting is fine, but there’s no medical team until after the match is over so be careful about digging into bone. If you break teeth, no help will come to you.”
Bone? Teeth?
I jump at the announcer’s hands clapping like thunder. “Alright. Shake hands.”
I extend a shaking hand to Jones, who growls and slaps it away. Chuckles and hoots from the crowd show they approve of his poor sportsmanship.
I drop my hand at my side and tug on my shorts, trying to ground myself. I can’t hurt him. I don’t even know him.
A bell sounds, and the round begins. Jones circles me, and I circle the opposite way, mimicking his motions. I notice he doesn’t cross his feet as he moves, so I try to sidestep, doingthe same. He extends an arm in the space between us and then shuffles closer. He repeats it, and my nerves heighten.
