The Warden again stands in the circle. “And now we have a crowd favorite . . . Beautiful Brenna!” Half the crowd cheers while the other half boos, but Brenna puts her pointer finger in the air to show she’s number one. “And Beautiful Brenna will be fighting . . . Charlie Boy Brandt!” The man she’s fighting is taller than her by a good six inches, but Brenna is at least as muscular.
After a few more minutes of riling up the crowd, the Warden shoots his gun and backs away. At first the fighters circle around the ring. Brenna goes in for the first punch and is knocked down. I stand, concerned, but she gets up quickly, bouncing back into a boxing stance.
I sit and look at Jacks. “She’ll be fine,” he assures me.
Brenna moves in again, this time more carefully. The man has a longer wingspan and hits her twice in the face. I hold my breath, but when the man, cocky now, steps in for another blow, Brenna drops low and drives a punch into his crotch. He folds over and she springs up, connecting her knee with his face. He crumples to the ground.
“Anything goes,” I whisper, shaking my head as Brenna raises her arms in victory.
“I love that girl!” Dwayne jumps up to cheer for Brenna.
I stand up to cheer for her too, amazed at how desensitized to violence I’ve become. Maybe because the fights in the Arena are very much like the fights I had to participate in during Guardian training. I see Brenna make her way through the crowd, pausing at the girl with red hair for just a moment before moving on.
“Let’s go down to congratulate—” I begin to say, until I see who has just stepped into the circle.
Tank places a hand on one side of his head and cracks his neck, then repeats it on the other side.
“We don’t have to watch this,” Jacks tells me, starting to get up.
“No, I want to.” I need to see what Tank can do.
This time when the Warden makes an announcement, a hush falls over the crowd. I missed the first fighter’s name, but I hear what the Warden says next, loud and clear: “The undefeated, Tank Laaaaaawson!”
When the Warden fires his gun, Tank charges across the circle in two blurred steps and backhands his opponent across the face. Now he dances around, grinning like an evil little kid who’s misbehaved. The man roars and rushes Tank, who spins him easily into a headlock and goes to work on his face with his free fist.
Tank’s fight lasts longer than Brenna’s only because he toys with his opponent, methodically hammering away at his face under his massive arm, then freeing him to stagger back a step or two before reeling him in for more. Finally Tank grows bored of toying with the man and lets him drop, giving him a long look as he sprawls there coughing up blood. He spits on him before leaving the circle.
I try to swallow, but my mouth has gone dry. The first two fights were at least even. Tank demolished that man.
I elbow Jacks. “Can we go now?”
“Yeah, I’ve been seen. We can leave.” We make our way down the bleachers to the gate that leads to the Yard.
“You okay?” Jacks asks.
“Yeah.” I try to get through the gateway, but someone blocks my path.
“Hey there, cupcake.” Tank. Of course—he picked me out of the crowd. Was he waiting for me to come this way, or is it just bad luck? “Come to see me win?”
Tank is drenched in sweat, and he hasn’t even bothered to wipe the blood from his hands. I take some satisfaction that his face is still bruised from where I hit his nose, even if the swelling has gone down.
Jacks begins to put his arm around me protectively, but I shake him off. I make myself stare into Tank’s cold, dark eyes. “Get out of the way,” I tell him, keeping my voice steady. “Or I will hurt you again,” I stress.
“Sure, no problem,” he says, bowing. “Here, princess, step this way.”
I walk past him, careful not to come within arm’s reach. I’m grateful that Jacks walks at my side, between me and Tank. Jacks mutters, “Douchebag,” loud enough for Tank to hear.
We get ten feet into the exercise yard when I hear a woman’s voice in my ear. “Amy!” It’s so loud that I think whoever said it is right behind me. I whirl around but can’t find whoever called for me. I hear my name again, but it’s much farther away, Brenna screaming after us from the chain-link fence of the Arena. Maybe my sound amplifier is malfunctioning?
I wave to Brenna and she calls, “Did you see me kick that guy’s ass?” I nod and give her a thumbs-up.
“Amy!” Again the voice is in my ear, but it’s not Brenna who says it. “Are you there? Get somewhere you can talk.”
My heart seizes in my chest. It’s Kay. Kay. I look up at Jacks. “I need to go back to our cell. Now.”
“What? Why? Listen, don’t let Tank freak you out.”
“No, that’s not . . . yes. Yeah, I just need to rest.” Jacks nods and takes my hand, leading me toward the cellblock. When we get there I stop and release his hand. “Look, I think I just want to be by myself for a little while.”
He looks at me, as though deciding if I should be left alone, then says, “Okay. I’ll go check in with Doc. He might need me to take care of a few things, but I’ll be back soon.”
I run up the stairs and rush to our cell. The cells on either side of me are empty—everyone’s gone to the fights.
I hop up on the top bunk and whisper, “Kay . . . are you there?”