Indian Hill (14 page)

“Do not do that again, hu-man.”

I pissed myself, no I’m not just saying that I was so scared I could have peed, I literally let my bladder explode all over the front of my jeans. What stood before me was something straight out of a horror movie. If this were a movie I would have changed the channel a long time ago. Whatever this thing was it had developed along the reptilian line of species and to me it looked mostly like the crocodile side of that family. This beast looked to be at least two feet taller than myself. It had an elongated snout that ended in a bulbous fashion. It had no ears that I could see but what appeared to be ear holes. Its skin did not have the green, brownish tinge I would have expected from a reptile type of thing. It had more of a reddish glow to it, more on the shade of Red Rocks, but the skin texture looked to be more like our own native crocs. But I had never actually had any desire to touch a crocodile before, and I definitely had no desire to touch whatever the hell that thing was. Its bulk was impressive, in addition to its two feet of height advantage, it also outweighed me by two to three hundred pounds, and this thing reeked of power and menace and intelligence. Its eyes, by far, were the scariest part of
it
. They were cold and flat, with the pupil in the crescent moon shape. But it was the way it stared at me. For all it was concerned, I could be its lunch. Oh please, don’t let that be the case. Is this its refrigerator? Is this where it keeps its food fresh until it’s ready to eat? Beth, where are you! 

“Ssit down and Sshut-up hu-man!” it boomed.

Well, I thought to myself wryly, English must not be its first language. But I understood it enough to do as I was told. Thankfully it moved on. Well, so much for the Steven Spielberg ET type of alien. I think Ridley Scott got a lot closer to the truth. Once the creature passed the relief that flooded through me was near palpable. And then I started to hear voices. Oh great, not only was I stuck in a cell with alien creatures I
was
also going insane. Wait, maybe I’m already insane and this is the outcome of that insanity. That would be far more agreeable than the truth.

“Pssst buddy.”

“What and who the hell is that?” Boy, I’ll tell you insanity isn’t a fun thing.

“Hey number 1988!”

“What are you talking about!?” I half yelled

“Look above your head, that’s your number, or should I say ranking.”

“Who are you?” I asked

“I’m number 1987, I’m your next door neighbor,” the mystery voice answered back.

“Oh thank God, I thought I was alone on this thing.”

“Quiet down, if you yell too loud those things will come back.”

“Do you know what’s going on? Are we lunch?” I asked, almost hoping he didn’t have an answer. Ignorance can be bliss.

“I’ve got an idea, but you might actually like your lunch theory a little better.”

“What kind of information are you going to
give me?
”

“Word through the cell-vine is that us men folk are going to be used in a gladiator type spectacle. We are going to be the Progerians’ entertainment and THEN lunch.”

“We have to fight th-th-those things?” I asked incredulously.

“No, it’s much worse than that.”

“Worse than that?”

“We’re battling each other.”

“Who, me and you?”

“No, no, from what I can gather that number on the ceiling is sort of a preliminary ranking, think of the NHL playoffs where No. 1 plays the No. 8 seed, but in this case its No. 1988 versus 2212, to the death.”

“Oh God,” I moaned, the fear was crippling. “When does this happen.”

“I think it already started,” he replied.

“Who are you? I’d at least like to know your name before I die.”

“My name is Bud Adams,” he intoned. I had been hoping for some words of encouragement from him. Maybe something on the order of, ‘you have a chance’ or ‘you’re not dead yet.’ Something that would give me some sense of hope no matter how false. Apparently he had resigned himself to his imminent fate, and had no desire to comfort another human being in distress. Misery loves company. I guess the aliens had good reason to put me this low in the rankings. At 5’9” and 165 pounds I really didn’t cut an imposing figure. Well at least my first opponent, ranking wise, was more pathetic than me. More questions, worries and concerns ran through my head than was even remotely comprehensible, but it didn’t take long until all of my questions were answered. One moment my cell front was there, the next moment it simply vanished, was it ever really there? I stepped out of my cell before it had the chance to reappear and I got my first real look at the vessel I was on. It was enormous, I was able to see hundreds of cells in each direction before the curve in the ship hindered my view. I turned to look at Bud Adams to see if he had possibly been freed. He was, but he was nowhere in sight. Do I make a run for it, where the hell would I go, do I take my chance with the guard, who am I kidding? So I did nothing, I just stood there like a knot in a piece of wood. An opaque doorway from the other side of the corridor opened up to reveal where my guard or one that looked very similar to him had gone. So now I knew that the holding cells were on an outer ring of the ship and the crews’ quarters or duty stations were on the inside. But a lot of good that did me, knowledge didn’t feel very powerful at the moment.  The guard stepped out from the doorway and motioned for me to follow the indicator lights around the ship. He kept a safe distance from me, if I didn’t know better I would think that he was more disgusted by my appearance than I was of his/hers, no clue? I had a fleeting thought to turn and charge it, but I didn’t know if he was armed. By the look of him my charge would be no more effectual than hitting a bear with a fly swatter. So I did what was expected of me, I followed the lights for what seemed like a mile. All of the cells I passed were empty. Apparently th
o
se poor souls had met their fate already; I felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter. After passing the cell marked with the No. 1, the corridor opened up into a huge amphitheater. It was filled to standing room only with these creatures, although from where I stood there appeared to be two types of animal/things. There were the reddish ones that I had already met, and there were smaller ones with a slightly brownish tinge to them and a shorter snout. And from the looks of things they were the real ones in control here, because they had all the seats closest to the coliseum floor. The guard forcibly pushed me into a booth on my right that I had not even seen when I approached the theater.

“Ssit down and Sshut up hu-man,” it snarled.

“You need to learn some more words asshole!!” I spat, I figured if I was going to die I might as well get a last jab in. I don’t think that he had any clue what I said, he shut the door to the booth and left.

“Sit down hu-man,” a voice boomed from the top of the booth in what appeared to be an alien version of a speaker. “Your briefing will begin now.”

This did very little to calm my nerves, if anything it only made me more nervous, to hear the alien voice through a speaker made it sound that much more inhuman. I felt like a rat in a cage, a very small cage.

“You are here, hu-man,” that snapped me back to reality, “in a competition like no other. Should you become the champion of these games you will win the prize which your kind cherishes the most.” The first thought that came to my mind was ‘pussy.’ I’m sorry, I was an 18-year-old college student. “Freedom!” the voice boomed. Well, that was my second choice. “You will compete to the death, whether it is yours or your opponents.” The voice might as well have been talking about last night’s soccer score for all the inflection and feeling it put into those words. I yelled at the speaker to demand what had happened to my girlfriend, but my fears were not quelled, apparently this was a one way speaker and more than likely it was ‘canned.’ I d
id not
think these aliens wanted to do anything more with us than to watch us die. “The winner will be rewarded handsomely, the losers wi
ll be dead.” Oh shit, I thought
, the voice didn’t use plurals. There is only going to be one winner, out of what my mind figured were a possible 4000 or so contestants. I resigned myself to my fate, how could I possibly come out on the top of this? I was a self-proclaimed lover, not a fighter. And I wasn’t even sure how good a lover I was and I had some practice in that field; the last fight I was in, I was 8 and I got my ass kicked by a girl. I know that’s pretty humiliating, I got my ass kicked by an 8-year-old girl that had a crush on me. All I wanted to do was play baseball with my friends, so she threw me down on the ground and punched me in the eye. I of course told my friends that I was jumped by Jimmy Johnson’s gang of friends and that’s how I got my shiner. Nobody ever tells anybody that they got beat up by a girl. “Each battle...” whoa, back to reality or at least this skewed version of it. “…will be a one on one competition to the death. The only other rule is that you are permitted to use only one weapon at a time. And do not be fooled, hu-man, if you or your competitor do not abide by these rules at all times you will both be dead. If both of you do not fight, you both will be dead. Look to your right and my point will be proven.” So I did just that, off to the right I spotted what appeared to be the variety of species that my guard was, there were four of them holding what appeared to be rifles, but I was under the impression that it wouldn’t be lead that came out of that long barrel. How would it feel to be shot by plasma or whatever it was, well I guess it would be the same as being shot by lead, dead. And that thought sent chills right up my spine. I knew in the back of my head that everybody dies, but to know that I was mere moments from it made me think of what wrongly convicted death row inmates must feel. Terror. Pure, unadulterated terror. “Your first test will begin momentarily. You will be given one minute to prepare yourself in whatever way you wish.”

“Wait!” I wailed. “A minute’s not enough, I don’t want to die, Mom!!!”

The door opened and the festivities began. The terrain was moving, well not quite moving it was shifting, changing, that’s it, it was changing from the grated ship floor into what appeared to be small scrub, no they were definitely getting bigger, it was becoming a forest. Not a particularly dense forest, it actually reminded me a lot of the woods surrounding the
Boulder
area, oh to be back at school cracking a kegger. Could this all be a bad trip! Please? How could this not be a trip gone bad, I’m being held on an alien ship preparing to fight for my life on a platform that is terraforming in front of me? My legs were like wood.  They were so stiff. I felt like I was in one of those dreams where a monster is chasing you and you can’t run, although there was nothing ‘dream like’ about this. My very existence depended on my being able to move and defend myself. In contrast my arms felt like jelly, I couldn’t possibly think to wield a weapon with them feeling like this. Weapons, that was what I was focusing on, there appeared to be weapons of varying sorts lined against the bottom wall of the coliseum, bows and arrows, swords, spears, knives, maces, unfortunately no plasma discharging weapons, because I’d really
like to take out a couple of tho
se crocodile looking thing’s. But there was no weapon quite advanced enough to make an escape a plausible possibility. Who was I kidding, where was I going to go, I didn’t even like to ride amusement park rides, did I really think I’d get far enough to grab a shuttle ship and pilot my way back home? No, my only chance was victory. The crowd had finally become silent as they waited in anticipation for the
ensuing battle. While all of tho
se thoughts were running through my head I watched as my opponent was forcibly removed from his holding pen and thrust into the arena on the opposite side. The guy looked more scared than I was. He was more than a hundred yards away and I could see him shaking from here. I’m not an intimidating fellow, and like I said I’ve always prided myself as being a lover, not a fighter. This guy was pathetic though, he looked to be about 55 years old, 5’5” or 5’6”, maybe 130 pounds soaking wet. I think that he was one of the security guards at the gate at Red Rocks. If it was the same man, he also had a nervous tick on the right side of his face.
T
his place was almost a replica of Mile High Stadium, they even had a huge screen on either end of the arena. It was how I was able to tell that my opponent was more petrified than I was. Terror emanated from him, his eyes were all pupil, in the fight or flight scheme of things this guy was a jack rabbit looking for a place to run. I could see him begging the guards not to leave him there, and then I could hear him yelling in my direction to please not kill him. I wanted to tell him that I had not so much as killed an insect on purpose. But my gestures scared him even more because he shrank back against the wall; it was then that he grabbed a spear. So apparently this jackrabbit could bite. What was I doing, get moving, I thought, or this pathetic old man is going to kill you, and if he does I would never be able to make the ones responsible for this injustice pay. He was still crying for alien mercy or possibly mine, but he was advancing and he had a weapon. My heart felt like it was in my throat. I had the distinct impression that I was going to choke to death long before he was able to get to my side of the battlefield. As he stepped forward I backed up, and in all my glory I fell over. I had tripped on a tree root and banged my head against a tree, I tripped on a tree root on a space ship. This was going to be real difficult to grasp the reality of. “Go to your death or go to your victory hu-mans!” a voice thundered from overhead. The crowd went nuts, the huge screens went blank, apparently they didn’t want us watching what our opponent was doing. The aliens began a sort of hissing, it sounded like a battalion of tires having their air let out; the noise was deafening. I got up, my head still spinning from the impact, and I wiped the blood away. Just maybe the fall was the best thing that happened to me, I finally got moving and ran to the wall behind me and grabbed the closest weapon, a sword. I didn’t know what I was going to do with it, I had no intention of actually using it on that man, and maybe if I waited long enough he would die of natural causes. But the need to have that weapon in my hands was somehow primordial, instinctual, it felt good. Blood pulsed through my veins. My senses were heightened to their max. I thought I could smell the fear of my prey, but more than likely I smelled my own fear. My eyes honed in on the slightest movement. My feet began to move with stealth that modern man had long since forgotten. I began to wonder if my forehead was beginning to protrude a little more. No time for intellectual thought, I began to surrender myself to the most basic of thoughts, survival. I had crossed what I took to be roughly half of the arena without a single cognitive thought beyond kill or be killed. I didn’t even hear the crowd anymore. And then it hit me, my modern mind raced to catch up; fear suddenly and eagerly gripped me with a force equal to dread. I dropped my sword. It made a loud clanging noise as it slid down a small embankment. The crowd quieted, it almost sounded like they were holding their breaths. At the same time I heard him coming. Apparently he wanted to live too.