Max Arena (58 page)

Launching
forward, Max stayed low and like a bullet, he zipped straight
through the monster’s lumbering legs and out into the clear,
sprinting again like a man on fire.

The giant
roared and spun, flailing his huge brawny arms in the air. Without
pausing, Macktidas bounded off in pursuit, his eyes boring into
Max’s back. Max ran even faster than before. With the extra space,
he could concentrate more clearly on his plan of attack. Lasering
his gaze ahead of him, Max saw the ledge at the far end where Kris
and the primary weapons bay lay.

‘Tridents,’ he
breathed and as he watched, two gleaming objects were placed on the
ledge.

With the
giant’s roar filling his senses, Max ran on. The crowd had vanished
behind an impenetrable veil of adrenalin and focus. The world
around him was gone. Even the wind in his hair and bracing across
his face was without sensation. All Max could feel was his own
heartbeat, his lungs bellowing and his blood siphoning throughout
his body, fuelling him faster and faster. Until he could get to the
gloves, all Max could do was evade the creature’s fury, but right
now he wanted a weapon. He needed to make the alien bleed. That at
least might make it pause and take notice.

Max could feel
Macktidas still behind him, but his spatial awareness also told him
he had only a few moments space. Charging up to the ledge, Max
leapt forward, somersaulted and twisted to land on the raised
platform in a squatting position, his hands reaching down between
his legs to grasp the handles of the tridents. Macktidas filled his
vision, the giant’s snarling, bawling visage blotting out
everything behind it, and then Max sprang.

Uncoiling his
legs like steel springs, Max vaulted high overhead Macktidas. As he
sailed over the creature’s left shoulder, he stabbed downwards with
his right trident, puncturing Macktidas’ upper back in the fleshy
part behind the collar bone. Pulling the trident out, Max fell to
the ground, rolled and was up and sprinting again.

Instantly Max
realised the creature was not in pursuit. Reaching the centre of
the arena, he braved to stop and turn. Macktidas still stood at the
end where Max had vaulted over him, clutching at his upper back
where Max had stabbed him. Max could see a rich purple liquid
seeping through the alien’s clenched hand covering the wound. He
had hurt the monster and it had suddenly taken notice.

If Max’s focus
had allowed him to, he would have heard the hysteria of the crowd
as they realised their champion had drawn blood. Sparing a glance
down at his trident, Max found a thin smear of the same purple
substance on the steel. He had hurt the alien, but it was a flesh
wound and would not waylay it for long. If Macktidas’ healing
abilities were as potent as his own, the injury was probably
already healing. Max needed the gloves. Without any further pause,
he started sprinting for the far end, the cat and mouse game
continuing.

‘Those gloves
charged yet?’ he asked as he ran, the tridents flashing in silver
whirls on either side of his hurtling form.

‘Yes,’ Kris
replied. ‘Get ‘em on.’

Then Max
sensed something else. Something behind him. Without turning, Max
dived chest first onto the ground and slid forwards on the slick
grass, his arms and the tridents out wide. Lifting his chin, he
watched a massive javelin spear the air overhead, right where his
torso had been. The ten foot long spike continued on straight as a
line until it crashed into the barrier at the end of the stadium,
the crowd behind the clear Perspex scurrying like rats to avoid the
impact should the weapon break through.

Max didn’t
pause. Instantly, he was up and running again, but as he rose, he
cast a glance behind him and found Macktidas already thundering
down the length of the arena, voraciously chewing up the space
between them. He also now had his sword in hand. Macktidas had
upped the ante.

Knees driving,
hands pumping and heart beating, Max drove forwards to the end. He
could see the gloves lying on the ledge, but again he knew
Macktidas was too close for him to retrieve them. No sooner would
he have them in his hands and the behemoth would be on top of him,
disallowing him the killer grip he needed around Macktidas’ throat
to effect maximum injury. There was only one thing to do. Confront
the beast.

Arcing
slightly to his right, Max led Macktidas to the side. Out of his
peripheral vision, he saw the monster raise his sword out to the
right. Planting his foot, Max jumped high and spun. Macktidas’
sword sliced the air beneath him, murderously cleaving the space
Max had been in. As Max flew high, he extended his tridents out,
the points cutting like spikes.

Hitting the
ground, Max turned and looked up at his enemy, finding him doubled
over and roaring. The crowd were again going berserk, but Max was
uncaring. Cautious tension racked his body. Suddenly Macktidas
flicked his face round and Max saw the gash high on his right
cheek. He had cut the giant’s face open, forcing more purple blood
to spill out. The monster’s lips peeled back to reveal its full
mouth of teeth, gleaming in rows of pearlescent death. Malevolence
radiated, contorting Macktidas’ face into pure nightmare. Max knew
this face. This was the face that had killed his family. Instead of
fear, the expression lifted Max even higher.

As Max stared
back at the beast, he suddenly realised the giant’s sword was
moving, much faster than anything he had ever experienced. Buckling
his knees, Max controlled a backward fall onto his heels as the
sword scythed over him. Springing back up, he bounded backwards to
gain more space, but Macktidas’ massive left fist drilled downwards
faster than he had expected. Dodging to the right, the blow pounded
the grass next to Max, the impact rocking the ground. Max turned to
dodge again, but this time he was too slow. Macktidas flicked his
left fist up off the ground and his knuckles caught Max full on in
the chest, lifting him off his feet and hurtling backwards. The
brutality of the blow knocked the air from Max’s lungs and the
tridents from his hands.

Sailing
backwards, Max kept his focus fixed on Macktidas who was already
moving to catch up to him. In mid flight, Max sucked in a new lung
full of air and flicked his feet up over his head in a backward
somersault. Landing on his feet again, Max’s gaze filled with
Macktidas bearing down on him, his huge sword slicing downwards
like an enormous cleaver, edge down onto his head.

Stepping to
the side, the blade slammed into the ground next to Max, burying
deep and forming a great cleave in the turf. Max was ready this
time for the follow-up blow as Macktidas’ left fist drove down.
Diving forward, he got inside Macktidas’ defences and again slipped
between his legs. Macktidas spun, looking down for his foe, but Max
was too quick, ducking and diving to stay out of the giant’s
reach.

Then Macktidas
lifted a foot and Max had his advantage. Nimbly, he stepped up onto
the monster’s foot and using it for a boost, drove upwards to smash
his right fist in under the creature’s chin, snapping Macktidas’
head backwards, but Macktidas had simultaneously countered with a
straight left punch. The blow struck Max in the stomach and he flew
backwards, tumbling in flight and out of control.

Macktidas
stumbled backwards, his sword flailing. Max tumbled to the ground,
rolling out into the centre of the arena like a discarded rag doll.
Both combatants paused. Macktidas stood dazed. Max lay unmoving.
The crowd fell silent.

‘Get up!’ Kris
yelled. ‘Get up!’

High in her
glass box, Elsa instinctively reached forward to lay her hand on
the glass, a gasp whispering past her lips. She could feel her
heart hammering, her blood pulsing. Tunnel vision consumed her
perspective as she searched for movement, and then Max’s fingers
flinched.

‘He’s alive!’
Kris squealed, but her glee quickly dissipated as she realised Max
was far from well. Then a thought entered her mind. A promise she
had made and now felt an overpowering urge to break. Looking
around, Kris found her second in command in the weapons bay and
shouted to him. ‘Take the lead! I’ve got to do something!’

The man looked
across at Kris and instantly goggled. ‘No!’ he shouted, frantically
waving his arms. ‘Don’t do that!’

‘You just
watch the shop!’ Kris shot back as she opened the weapons bay
portal and stuck her head through.

Meanwhile, out
in the arena, Max had slowly pushed himself up to all fours, his
movements still strained. Across from him, Macktidas shook his
head, his vision still swimming.

‘Get up,’
Peter muttered, his clenched fist and forearm planted onto the
glass of the box.

Next to him,
Joe bored his gaze across the space and into Max, trying to
telepathically ignite him. Next to Joe, Abdullah prayed. It was all
he could do.

From his all
fours posture, Max looked down at the grass beneath him. The gently
stirring blades confused him, making him unsure if his focus was
out or if the perception was real. He bunched his fists and felt
the turf in his clenches. It was real. He was alive, but he still
didn’t have his balance right. Then he remembered. Macktidas!

Snapping his
head back up, Max locked his gaze onto the creature, who with one
final shake of his head, cleared his vision, allowing the stadium
to come back into alignment. A moment later Macktidas also realised
he was still holding his sword and the very next moment, Macktidas
too remembered where he was and why.

Flicking his
head round, the beast found Max staring back up at him. He roared.
Macktidas knew Max was still struggling. Now was his best chance to
finish this. Now was his best chance to rightfully claim the throne
and dominion over this pathetic species. Now was Macktidas’ best
chance.

The creature
raised its sword and tensed to barrel forwards, but suddenly
halted. Its senses had detected a warning. Max was looking at
something else, instead of at him.

Forty metres
away, Max had also felt something stir on the periphery of his
senses. He did not know how or why he turned, but Max knew that he
had to. He trusted his gut instincts too much to ignore them and
right now his instincts were screaming at him to turn and look.

From his
vantage point essentially in the very centre of the arena, Max
could see clearly down to the end where Kris stood. She was no
longer safely ensconced behind the Perspex barrier and in the
weapons bay, but rather she had squeezed herself out through the
weapons portal and now stood on top of the concrete parapet with
both her arms stretched out full length to both sides. Not
motionless, but unwavering, strong and tall, like an angelic
soldier she stood, calling a divine army to arms.

Max sensed
also that Macktidas had paused, so he rose slowly to his full
height, feeling the deep bruising in his torso start to bloom.
Around Max, the entire stadium had fallen utterly silent. The
thick, humid air hung tensely inside the arena. Even the breeze had
died down. Everything was still, like a tomb.

Then Kris
clapped overhead, the slap of her hands loud and clear. Kris
clapped again and the sound was louder. She raised her outstretched
hands a third time and this time a resounding echo accompanied her.
The fourth time the sound was even louder as more people joined in.
By the fifth clap, Max heard the foot stomps start up.

The Team Max
anthem was on and if Max could hear it, he would know that all
around the world, where ever humanity huddled in front of a
television screen or clustered around a radio, they too were on
their feet, their hands clapping in unison overhead, their feet
stamping the Earth.

Max absorbed
the atmosphere as he fixed on Kris’ proud form at the end of the
arena. Macktidas stared frantically around at the crowd as they
chanted and stomped together.

Raising his
right hand, Max pointed directly at Kris, saluting her and her
bravery to venture inside the arena and personally lift the crowd
to help him. He felt his blood surge, his vision sharpen and his
mind clear. Looking up higher, Max again found his family,
ensconced in a backdrop of light. His love reached out and Max felt
the love in return. He let his hand drop.

It was time.
The preamble was over and destiny beckoned. Max knew he would never
get the perfect opportunity to gain an advantage over Macktidas, so
he had to take the fight to him. He had to face either victory or
death head on and that time was now. Kris had just shown him
that.

With the
anthem roaring through his senses, Max slowly turned and fronted up
to Macktidas, who was still uncertainly scanning the crowd. A
moment later the beast realised Max had squared up to him and his
demeanour instantly changed back to combat.

Suddenly, Max
sprang forwards, his movements a blur and his orange shoes
instantly transforming into twin arcs of flame against the
brilliant green of the light-washed grass. He had become a human
bullet, slicing a path directly towards his foe.

Macktidas
instantly reared up on his massive legs to tower into the night, an
obscene bellow issuing forth from his maw like a demon’s cry. If
fear had an opus, this was it. Lifting his sword high, Macktidas
launched forwards, his eyes like white pyres, his teeth bared.
Holding the hilt of his weapon in his right hand, he thundered
forwards with only one hand to help balance his gait.

Max did not
veer. He did not slow. He did not deviate from the straightest of
lines into Macktidas. The giant alien held its line equally as
aggressively. The anthem continued unabated, the chant, the foot
stomps and the hand claps shaking the stands and the ground
beneath. The entire island had become a seismic event as the two
foes charged towards each other with a shared intention. Death.