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I got out of the cab and zipped up my jacket. It was chilly for a spring night. Almost like the atmosphere was trying to tell me how dark and dangerous this place was. That I should have just stayed in the cab. But as it sped off, I still felt like this was what I had to do. I walked past the bouncer at the front door and he just let me glide through, something I had already learned about the fighting world. Pretty girls meant free of charge. I found a spot along the back wall and stood with my arms crossed as I watched two men inside the cage go at it. They were both bloodied and battered, with one guy grabbing the side of his body like he had broken ribs. When he removed his hand to block a punch, I saw the bruise that was quickly spreading. He definitely had broken a few. I knew that this could happen at any fight, but this guy wasn’t conceding. When the other guy hit them hard enough that he was knocked to the ground, I heard him screaming in agony, but there was no referee to stop it here. They would fight until he was out cold. Luckily for him that was only a minute later. Two big guys in black came into the ring, and pulled him up by his arms, and carried him out while the victor had his arms above his head. He had a busted eyebrow and a shoulder that looked slightly out of place, but he was happy with his win.
I scanned the crowd for Dillon, shockingly seeing his bald head near the cage just a moment later. I tried to make my way to him through the throng of people, but I didn’t get there in time. They announced his name just as I called it myself.
“Dillon!” He didn’t turn to look at me, clearly not hearing me over the roar of the crowd.
“Dillon, it’s Berkley!” This time I caught his attention. He turned to look at me with his mouth in an ‘o’ shape. He was shocked to see me there, clearly having thought I had given up after he told me to leave. I wasn’t that easy.
He walked back down the stairs and met me at the bottom. “What the hell are you doing here? Couldn’t my saving your ass once be enough?”
I shook my head, “This time it is about me saving you. You can’t do this. They could kill you!”
He puffed out his chest, “Honey, I’m Dillon Jackson. I’m unbeatable.”
A man tapped Dillon on the shoulder pointed up into the cage. He turned away and began walking back. He looked over his shoulder one more time at me before ascending the stairs. People cheered unanimously, waving their cash in the air as bookies grabbed it and asked them who they were betting on. And that’s when I heard it
: “Dillon Jackson or Montegro Ramirez and Lucas Boyo?”
I grabbed a bookie by the shoulder and turned him around, “I’m sorry, what did you just say? How many guys is Dillon going against?”
The bookie smiled up at me, missing a few teeth. “Two, of course. No one man could beat him, so we’re going to find out if the double team can.”
Fuck.
I watched with terrified eyes as Dillon and two other guys entered the cage. I saw the shock written all over Dillon’s face. Clearly he didn’t know what was going on either. They descended on him like wolves. He tried to fight his way through, blocking one guy’s punches while he was on the offense of the other. But they double teamed him every chance they got, one kicking him in the back while the other assaulted his face. He finally got a good swift kick at the one in front of him which landed with his back against the metal of the cage and turned to face the other. But that just pissed off the first guy. He ran back at Jackson and hopped on his back pulling him down onto the ground with him. Jackson flailed like a bug on its back. He tried to protect his face, but the guy underneath them had him in a headlock and the one that was still standing kicked Dillon in the stomach repeatedly. The crowd went wild. I saw Dillon’s face start to go blue as the guy who had him in a headlock was squeezing too tight.
I started screaming at them, “He can’t breathe! He can’t breathe!”
But no one was listening. I did the only thing that I thought would help. I tried to climb over the ropes to get to the stairs. I would have to help him myself. Just as I was about to swing my leg over the rope, a man not much older than Dillon himself in a crisp looking suit stopped me.
“What do you think you’re doing honey? Nobody but fighters over the rope.”
I pointed at Dillon, “Those guys are going to kill him!”
He smiled at me. “Well that’s kind of the point isn’t it? Somebody has to take out the best fighter, so why not me?”
I looked at him in amazement. This had all been the plan. They didn’t just want to beat Dillon, they wanted to kill him. Just then I heard a woman’s scream from the crowd. “He ain’t moving! You killed him!”
More shouts from the crowd and I noticed as a group of people started stampeding their way to the exit. The other two fighters were nursing their wounds and walking out of the cage while Dillon lay lifelessly on the floor. The man who had been talking to me smiled and patted his guys on the back before saying, “We should get out of here. One of these people is going to call the cops.”
They moved out of my way and I sprinted up the stairs and into the cage. Dillon was a mess, blood rushing out of his nose, and it looked like his eye socket might’ve been broken. I watched helplessly for the rise and fall of his chest. He had to be alive, he just had to be.
TWELVE
BERKLEY
I cradled the phone in my hands, holding onto it like a lifeline. “It was awful! The police and the ambulance were en route for like five minutes. I did CPR the whole time, but I’m not sure I did it right. By the time they got him in here they said he been deprived of oxygen and then his heart had stopped beating. I don’t even know if he’s going to make it!”
I heard Naomi sigh on the other end of the line, “I’m sorry I told you not to go. He’s so damn lucky you were there. But I don’t get it. Why would they want to kill him?”
That was something that had plagued my mind ever since the man in the suit had escaped. I described him to the police officers, but they didn’t seem to have any leads. The place on a business card wasn’t even a real gym; it was just the address for the warehouse that they were using for that fight. Apparently lots of illegal gambling had been going on there. There was evidence of dogfights in the back as well. It made me sick. The whole place had been shut down for investigation and the actual owner of the warehouse had been called. But it wasn’t like he rented the place or anything—they had just seen it empty, and used it as an opportunity to make money and hurt Dillon. “I guess they just thought that he was someone to be afraid of. His career was really taking off, and I just think that they didn’t want their guys to get beat anymore. And Dillon was really the only one who could beat them. He was losing this guy money, and money makes people do crazy things.” Like go into an underground fighting ring and almost get yourself killed.
“Do you want me to come get you? I mean I’m surprised that they even let you ride with him.”
I shook my head, still pacing back and forth under the fluorescent waiting room lights. “That took some convincing. I was a blubbering mess though, so I think that the EMT just thought I was in shock. I think they took me more for observation than because I wanted to go. But once I got to the hospital, it was like playing a million questions with the cops. I haven’t even been able to see him yet.”
“Well, hopefully they’ll let you in to see him soon. I mean you saved his goddamn life. That should earn you a little bit of visiting time.”
I heard a woman that sounded agitated at the other end of the hall and I walked around the corner to get a better view. There was a small dark haired woman banging on the desk asking for assistance. “I’m looking for Dillon Jackson! He was brought in an ambulance from a fight. He’s my son!” She had her hand on her heart and I thought she might faint if someone didn’t help her soon.
