“How are you holding up?”
“Is that a joke?”
This fucking guy.
“Just shut up. I’ll…” I spit the key into my hand, then almost drop it when the whole post shakes with the thrashing of the lizard. It takes both my hands to grip the wood to stop myself being flung off.
“What’s going on?” Robin yells.
“I thought you knew everything.”
On a deep huff, as though I’m hugely inconveniencing him right now, “Can you just unchain me?”
“I’m trying!” Another whack of the lizard’s tail sprays sand over both of us, and the creature lets out a screech as its belly rubs red raw againstthe wood. It won’t be long now. I tilt my hand open as carefully as I can, pinning the side to the post so the key won’t drop. My muscles ache with the effort of holding myself up. “Mutant lizard,” I try to prepare him. “It’s fucking big, and it’s fucking hungry.”
“Is that worse than a mutant bear?”
“I don’t know. But if it—“ Another shove, and I almost lose my grip entirely, saved only by the tight clamp of my thighs around Robin. “If it gets loose, then we’re both fucked.”
The key between my fingers now, I work my way a little higher up the post, then shove it in the lock. “Ready? It’s a long drop.”
“Shit. Shit, I can’t see, Marco. Can you get this mask off first?”
“No chance. But if you drop to the left, the lizard should break your fall.”
“Are you seri—” The final thrust of the lizard smashes my whole body to the side, my hand with it, and the lock clicks open. Robin’s gone, just like that. And the thing’s loose.
My hands grapple along the top of the crossbeam while I try to find a decent place to drop down safely. I can’t see a thing in the billowing dust and sand.
Then, out of nowhere, teeth coming straight for me. Then the crunch of teeth. The creature reels back, a pained cry filling the stadium, and Robin thrusts again, hitting it a second time with a large leg bone he’s found on the ground.
“Don’t kill it!” I shout down. But I don’t know if he can even hear me.
He attacks it again, so I hope for the best, and slip down, hitting the earth hard. We have no idea if this creature is supposed to be killed with the Deathball, but I won’t let him fight again next week. His arms must already be injured with the time he’s spent strapped, dangling from the cross.
Yet before I can get to him to slow his wrath, he’s set upon either side by prisoners.
How they can even tell Robin’s their assailant, I have no idea. Maybe the plan is to kill anyone they don’t know. And if they’re working together, that gives us even more trouble.
Robin’s shout of pain spurs me on. I hear a crack, something connecting with his skin. One of the men raises a bat. I catch him in the ribs with a hard punch before he can get any speed behind it. I feel his rib break beneath my fist, relish the air that pours out of him. Then I raise my fist for the next blow, bring it down hard, and meet scales.
The creature’s mouth clamps down so hard on the man it sends his interior bursting out his sides, drenching me and Robin in hot blood. But Robin’s still fighting, flung back against the flanks of the animal when he blocks a wooden plank with his bare arm.
I lunge forward, strike the man in the stomach, and he folds. Robin’s two arms come down and connect with the back of his head, dropping him to the ground. So I pick up the plank to finish the job.
His back cracks beneath the violence of my blow, leaving him writhing on the ground, begging for mercy, lizard food.
“Fuck,” Robin whispers, staring down at what I’ve done.
It’s cruel. It’s cold.
It’s Deathball.
No emotion, no fear, no regret until we’re safe.
I grasp his hand, and pull him away from the gore, the two of us running out into the center of the clearing, and I’m only aware of what I’ve done, spotlighting my physical affection, when the speaker announces, “Robin Shore, ladies and gentlemen.” So I stop dead, then hold his hand up high. The noise of the adoring crowd intensifies.
“Smile, birdie,” I hiss at him.
