Tallos - Episode Two (Season One) Page 2

  As Carl finished speaking, the hair on the back of Jim’s neck stood up. The old man's friendly expression had suddenly vanished and his grip on the shotgun had tightened.

  Jim tried to stand, but his legs weren't cooperating. Suddenly, his sense of balance was all over the place. As he slid from the chair down onto one knee, he saw that Peter had managed to get to his feet and was reaching into his coat for his weapon.

  Carl pointed his gun at him. “That’s ‘bout far enough, boy. Don’t make me shoot you.”

  Peter's hand froze. A few seconds later he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

  “Why are you doing this?” Jim demanded. By now, the room was spinning like an out of control carousel. Carl's voice seemed to be coming from much further away.

  “Like I told ya’ll. I do some tradin’ every now and then. And you two boys are just what I’ve been lookin’ for.”

  Jim felt a hand reach inside his coat. He tried to move, but his limbs felt like they were made of rubber. Helpless, he could only lay there until unconsciousness finally took him.

  * * *

  The room was completely dark when Jim opened his eyes. At first, all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. His tongue was bone dry – like after a night of hard drinking – and his throat felt as if he’d been trying to swallow a softball. His arms were cuffed behind him to what felt like a wooden post.

  He could hear someone moaning off to his right. “Peter?” he whispered. “You there?”

  After a few seconds, the reply came back. “What the fuck? Where are we?”

  “Don’t know,” he replied. “Can you move?”

  He heard Peter shifting and struggling. “Not much. I've been handcuffed to something. But give me a minute.”

  “Yeah, I’m cuffed too.” Jim curled his legs to his chest and shimmied up the post. Once on his feet, he pushed hard back with all his strength, but the post did not budge an inch.

  “I knew there was something about that old bastard,” spat Peter.

  Jim cursed himself for not seeing it as well. No one was that welcoming these days. Even the people he had known in Spanish Grove viewed him with suspicion when he would come around. And some of them he’d known for years. What was I thinking?

  He heard the clank of a doorknob. A moment later, light poured into the room. Jim squinted and turned his head but all he could make out was a thin silhouette standing in the doorway. For a moment the figure moved away, then returned carrying a lantern.

  “Hey there, boys.”

  It was a young woman, maybe twenty-five years old, with long, straight brown hair and a tanned complexion. Her face was round and pleasant, though not exactly pretty. She wore a pair of loose fitting jeans and a red tee shirt. Around her waist was a holstered police issue .45.

  “Please, lady,” whispered Peter. “Help us.”

  Jim rapidly took in his surroundings. They were in some sort of crudely built, one room shack. Both he and Peter were cuffed to one of the six vertical posts that supported the roof. As far as he could tell from where he was, there were no windows or furnishings whatsoever.

  She sat the lantern on the floor. “Help you? Now why would I do that? Folks done paid well to see you two. Hell, one fella traded a whole pig for a front row seat. Now you wouldn’t want me to be disappointin’ folks, would you?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” demanded Jim.

  She walked right up and grabbed him by the chin. “Ole Carl said you boys had some fight in you. That’s mighty good. I’ll have to pay him a bit extra. Most folks who come through here lately ain’t worth a plug nickel. All the spirit's been sucked right out of them.”

  Releasing Jim, she let out a high pitched whistle. Two large, rough looking men in gray coveralls came in and stood on either side of her.

  “Just let us go,” pleaded Peter. “We don’t want any trouble.”

  The woman clicked her tongue. “Not too bright, are you? You’re in trouble already, friend. And unless you get your head on straight, it'll be more trouble than you can handle. From what I hear, Lonnie Junior’s in a bad mood today.”

  “What more do you want from us?” asked Jim. “You already have our guns and our gear. Just let us go.”

  “Oh, you can have all of that back when you’re done here,” she said. A wicked smirk formed. “That is, if you don’t die.” She pulled out her gun and pointed it at Jim’s chest. “Since you seem to be the brains of this operation, I think you’ll go first.”

  One of the men moved to Jim's back and unlocked his cuffs. While making a play of rubbing his wrists, he took stock of the situation. With a bit of luck he could possibly take out the two guards, but the woman was too far away. He’d be shot before he could make it more than a step.

  “Carl tells me your name’s Jim,” she said. “Well, mine’s Lindsey. And just so you know, once we're outside you’ll have three rifles aimed at your pretty little head.”

  “What about Peter?” Jim asked.

  “He’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Just so long as he minds his manners.”

  The same man who'd removed his handcuffs now put them back on then shoved him roughly toward the door.

  The late afternoon sun was blinding, forcing Jim to blink hard for several seconds while adjusting. Even so, he could hear dozens of voices nearby, laughing and chattering loudly as if in expectation of something exciting. As his vision became clearer he could see that he was approaching a dilapidated barn on the edge of a large field. To his right was a small farmhouse, and scattered about was a variety of disused farming equipment. The stench of manure mingling with that of unwashed bodies hung over the entire area. He wasn't able to spot the gunmen Lindsey had spoken of, but he was pretty certain they were there…somewhere. She didn’t seem like the type to bluff.

  The barn door had been left wide open, allowing Jim to see that this was definitely the source of all the voices. Curious heads poked out to gaze at him as they drew close - people with toothless grins and excited smiles on their faces. The moment he stepped inside he was able to make out that there were about fifty men and women of differing ages. All of them were gathered around a chain linked fence that formed a circle covering a large part of the barn's interior. Bleachers had been erected on either side to allow spectators a clear view.

  Lindsey stopped when just a few feet inside and turned to face him. “If you make it out of here alive, you can go. No rules…just don’t die and you’re free. Got it?”

  “Both of us?” asked Jim.

  She flicked a hand. “I think you should be takin’ things one step at a time.”

  With that, she spun around and spread her arms wide. “Welcome to the redneck coliseum!”

  Her words instantly produced gales of laughter, shouts of approval, and a cacophony of strident whistles. Jim was shoved violently forward until they reached a narrow gate in the makeshift arena. There was a similar gate directly opposite his position. Here, a small crowd was gathered around a massive figure standing a full head higher than anyone else. Even though his face was hidden in the dim light, Jim could feel his eyes drilling into him.

  Lindsey stepped through the gate and took up position in the center of the cage. “Shut the hell up!” she called out.

  Her voice carried all the authority needed. Everyone immediately fell quiet, ready and eager to hear her next words. “It’s been a while since we’ve had anyone come through here, so I know ya’ll are excited. And it looks like ole Carl caught us a couple of real winners this time. Now, you know how this works. Once the fightin’ starts, I don’t take no more bets. And this time, no credit either.” She pointed to a short, balding man in the crowd. “That means you, Fred.” This drew a fresh burst of laughter. “Now, ya’ll ready to see the next brave soul to take on Lonnie Junior?”

  The sheer volume of the reaction said yes indeed. Bring him on.

  “All right then. Here he is.”

  “I’d take off my shirt,” whispered the
man at Jim's back as he removed his handcuffs.

  He did as suggested. This produced a round of ribald whistles from the women in the crowd. After passing through the gate, Jim strained his eyes in the hope of seeing his opponent more clearly, but he remained cloaked in shadow.

  Lindsey looked over her shoulder. “You ready?”

  Jim sneered. “Does it matter?”

  She laughed and turned back to the crowd. “Now ya’ll give a warm welcome to Jim.”

  The chorus of boos and hisses mingled with mocking insults lasted for a good minute before Lindsay called out: “Is Lonnie Junior ‘bout ready?”

  Before there could be an answer, Jim’s opponent pushed aside those gathered around him and stepped into the light. He was very tall; roughly six foot seven. But Jim already knew that. It was the rest of Lonnie that was truly impressive. The man's shoulders were almost twice as broad as his own, and in the ratty tee-shirt and ripped jeans it was clear that there was not a hint of flabbiness about him. His muscles flexed and rippled with every movement. Even his neck bulged with strength. His brown hair was cropped short, and his blue eyes were fixed unwaveringly on his victim.

  The moment he emerged, the rabble's thunderous greeting shook the rafters. Lonnie responded by raising his arms high and letting out a series of bone chilling feral roars. This only inspired his supporters to even greater volumes of enthusiasm.

  “You have only one minute left for bets,” called Lindsey when at last able to make herself heard. She pointed to both Jim and Lonnie. “You two fellas stay put ‘til I tell you.”

  “How many people have made it out of here alive?” Jim asked.

  Lindsey winked. “You’d be the first.”

  Jim flashed a scowl at her, then settled for studying his opponent. It was clear that he would not be able to stand toe-to-toe with this colossus. And from the way he moved, he was not clumsy or awkward like some particularly large guys he'd come across. Jim was confident in his skills at hand to hand combat. But to take on someone who possessed such brute strength was a seemingly impossible task. Maybe he’s as stupid as he is big, Jim told himself. But that was not something he wanted to bet his life on.

  The crowd rushed to a small table at the rear of the barn where an old man in a red plaid shirt was busy writing down their wagers. Once everyone had finished, he nodded to Lindsey.

  “You folks ready?” she called out, hyping them all up into one last frenzy of approval.

  She paused by Jim’s gate before leaving the cage. “I’m the only one bettin’ on you to stay alive,” she told him. “Don’t let me down.”

  Jim’s eyes never shifted away from his opponent. “With a guy like that, how does anyone ever lose a bet?”

  Lindsey threw her head back in laughter. “They’re not bettin’ on Lonnie winnin’. They’re bettin’ on how long you’ll last.”

  With an ominous click, the gate closed behind her. It was now just him and this giant alone in the cage. No rules – no referee. Focusing hard, he circled to his left. Lonnie simply stood where he was, baring his cracked and yellow teeth in a parody of a smile, as if inviting Jim to attack. Jim feigned left and then quickly backed up, hoping to lure him in and throw him off balance. But Lonnie remained dead still, seemingly unconcerned about anything Jim might do.

  His opponent was too close to the fence for Jim to get behind him, and there was no way he could hope to tackle such a huge guy to the ground. He continued to circle, looking for some sort of opening. Anything that might give him a sniff of a chance. Soon shouts of ‘Come on Lonnie’ and ‘What you waitin’ on, boy?’ began to come from some of the more impatient spectators.

  This was enough to goad Lonnie into action. He jumped forward with startling speed, swinging his massive fist at Jim’s head. Jim ducked under the blow and kicked hard at Lonnie’s groin. His foot landed in exactly the right spot with a satisfyingly heavy thud. So heavy that it drew gasps of pained sympathy from the crowd.

  But Lonnie was not going to be so easily dispatched. Red faced and now boiling with rage, he grabbed hold of Jim around the waist, swung him horizontally much like a battering ram a couple of times, then tossed him head first across the arena. Such was the force, after hitting the ground, Jim continued sliding on through the dirt for several more feet before finally slamming into the fence. Pain shot through his neck and all the way down his back. He could feel the earth vibrating as Lonnie’s huge feet pounded their way toward him. Ignoring the pain, he tried desperately to scramble away, but wasn’t nearly fast enough. Before he was even halfway up, two massive, paw-like hands seized him by the neck and leg. The next thing he knew, Lonnie had hefted him right up over his head.

  The enormous man strode around the arena laughing hideously, all the while brandishing Jim high aloft like a prized trophy. Only after milking the crowd for all the applause he could get did he finally decide to throw Jim contemptuously back down onto the floor. He landed hard, but at least it was on his side, and not his head. He could see Lonnie closing in, grinning and slobbering with excitement. As soon as he was in range, Jim kicked with all his strength into his opponent's knee. Normally this would be enough to bring a man down, but this time it felt as if he was kicking against stone. Lonnie barely blinked before striking back with a savage kick of his own into Jim’s gut. The impact blasted every bit of air from his lungs and sent him sliding back several feet. Gasping and coughing, he pushed himself to his hands and knees. He knew that if he didn’t come up with a plan fast, Lonnie would soon end it.

  But there was no flash of inspiration, only a blinding flash of light as a ham sized fist struck Jim directly on the temple. He rolled over onto his back, head spinning and the copper taste of blood filling his mouth. Thick fingers gripped him by the hair, first pulling him upright, then completely off his feet. For a moment he dangled in mid-air like a marionette.

  Lonnie thrust his face up close. The stench of his breath was revolting. “You ready to die, boy?” he taunted.

  Now the flash of inspiration came. This was the opportunity Jim had been praying for; Lonnie had become over-confident. “Not yet, asshole,” he spat back, at the same time jamming his thumb directly into his opponent's right eye.

  Not even a human mountain like Lonnie was capable of shrugging off such a vicious strike. Bellowing with pain and rage, his fingers splayed open. Jim’s legs almost gave way as he hit the ground, but fear and desperation somehow kept him on his feet. Again he went for the groin, planting his toe hard into the giant's already sore testicles. Lonnie yelped and crumpled to his knees, one hand held protectively over his eye, the other covering his crotch. Even so, Jim knew there was little time to waste. This man was unbelievably tough and would recover quickly. He had to end this fight now.

  He slipped behind his momentarily stricken opponent. But rather than seeking a choke hold, he jammed his thumb into the unprotected eye. This time he hooked his thumb and felt the ball come loose from its socket. Lonnie let out an earsplitting screech of agony - far louder than anything previous. Both of his hands were now covering his face. Jim stood over him for a moment. He’d never killed a man this way before. Not with his bare hands.

  It was then that Jim realized the crowd had gone silent, struck dumb with the sheer disbelief of what they were witnessing. Lonnie though, was still in full voice, cursing and screaming out a torrent of the vilest threats. But the truth was, now completely blind, he was all but helpless. Jim kicked him in the dead center of his chest, sending him sprawling onto his back. Without hesitation, he then brought his boot down hard on Lonnie’s head, silencing him completely. Again and again he stomped until the man was no longer moving. By now Lonnie's arms were sprawled wide, revealing one eyeball dangling precariously on his cheek and the other sitting in a deep pool of blood. Yet, amazingly, he was still breathing.

  “That’s enough!” shouted Lindsey, just as Jim was on the point of raising his boot yet again. “You’re done.” This instruction was emphasized by the loud click of a bul
let being chambered.

  Jim stumbled back a few steps, head throbbing and feeling battered all over. Only now, with the heat of battle leaving him, did he fully realize how much he was hurting.

  Lindsey opened the gate and ordered four men to carry Lonnie Junior away. “Can’t have you killin’ our best fighter,” she said. “He just got careless if you ask me.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. Good show anyway.”

  The stunned silence of the spectators was now slowly turning into angry whispers and hisses. Clearly, they were not taking kindly to a stranger coming here and beating their champion.

  “You said if I survived I could leave,” Jim said.

  Lindsey gave him a lopsided smile. “Did I?”

  After a tantalizing pause, she heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I guess I did.” She turned to face the crowd. “Ya’ll know the rules here. Jim won. That means he gets to go free.”

  Her announcement was greeted with several shouts of ‘No’ and ‘Kill him’, further fueling the hostile mood.

  Lindsey addressed them again, but this time her tone was hard and unyielding. “Now ya’ll go on home. None of ya’ll want trouble. Not here. That I can promise.”

  She drew her pistol. At the same time, four men standing near the barn door loaded their pump action shotguns. Though they didn’t actually aim them at anyone, the point was well made. Slowly the crowd settled down and began filing from the building.

  “You come on to the house,” Lindsey told Jim. “We’ll get you cleaned up.”

  Two of the armed men approached and waited at the arena gate until she had exited. Jim picked up his shirt and stumbled after her.

  Outside, it was now twilight. He motioned toward the shed he'd been imprisoned in. “What about Peter?”

  “No sense in us holdin’ him, I suppose,” she said, giving a casual flick of the hand. “Ain’t no one to fight until Lonnie heals up.” She turned in the direction of the farmhouse. “But he’ll keep for now. From the look of you, I don’t think you’ll be doin’ any walkin’ tonight.”