Rebels (John Bates) (9 page)

Chapter 16

“Well, boys, I am glad to see you made it through your surgery, but it’s time to see how your progress has gone! Each of you will be pitted against one another and as you win, you will go to the next round! Those eliminated will stay to watch the fun unless you need to be seen for unforeseen injuries! The State has invested valuable time and resources into each of you and they expect to see the results and the results they want will be seen today! So let the fun begin!”

Nurse Garrison walks forward and calls out two names, “Brian and Tommy.”

Both come forward and are led to the steel cage with no hesitation and they enter. You can hear the clanging of the door as it is closed behind them.

“The rules are simple; until one of you taps out or is incapacitated, the fight will continue and the winner will move to the next round. Is that understood!?” There is no expression on this man’s face but both young men nod their heads to indicate they understand what needs to happen. “Then let the exercise begin!” shouts our new task master, clipboard still in hand.

It is apparent these guys were in the Young Army, as well, based on their stances and movements. Brian rushes in while Tommy braces himself, it is weird that we haven’t known each other’s names this entire time but either way, today is going to be interesting. Brian grabs Tommy by the back of his head, pulling him forward, letting him control Tommy’s balance and movement. Tommy drops and thrusts forward, going for Brian’s legs, hoping to take him to the ground. I am amazed by the speed these two are going at each other. It’s almost inhuman, but who knows what these vitamins shots have done.

Brian is caught off guard by Tommy’s move and falls off balance, causing him to go to the ground. Tommy lands on top where he starts using his hand as a hammer on Brian’s head. All of a sudden, Brian is able to lean his body to the left, making Tommy place one of his hands down on the mat to try to keep his balance. Brian grabs a hold of Tommy by his shoulders and puts his right leg just underneath him, thrusting him literally off his body!

Tommy goes flying into one of the steel cage’s walls, bouncing right off. I can tell it smarted by his facial expression, but Tommy quickly gets up and prepares for Brian’s onslaught. Before Tommy can fully become aware of where Brian is, he is met with a flying sidekick, blowing him across the floor and bouncing him off another chain link wall.

I can see from the corner of my eye this taskmaster is no longer wearing his sunglasses and has also removed his green Army hat. He is enjoying the show of pain and suffering of these two young men. It means nothing to him as long as they are doing what they were bred to do. As Brian comes in to finish Tommy off, he is a little overly confident and tries to dive on top. Tommy rolls out of the way and grabs Brian by the back of his neck and throws him forward into the cage. Tommy proceeds to get on Brian’s back and puts him into a sleeper hold. This lasts an additional ten seconds and the show is over. Nurses checkout both Brian and Tommy, but the man with the clipboard simply yells, “Who’s next!”

And so this continues until it is my turn.

I see of all the young men, Dr. Pruitt is most interested in me. As to why exactly, I do not know, but I see concern on his face. I enter the ring with my now opponent; his face is without expression, but in his eyes I can see that he is determined to win. He is massive. What he doesn’t understand is while we have been competing in our races, I have been studying each of these guys and have noted what they are best at and how each reacted when they finished. Brad, in this case is always angry, which means he allows his emotions to clutter his mind.
Know thy enemy
, my father always had taught me, no matter how well trained and conditioned a person may be. If they allow their emotions to control them, I have a distinct advantage. That is why we go through drills and meditations so much. From outside the cage, the clipboard man’s voice shouts, “You may begin!”

Immediately, Brad bull rushes me, using his larger body to try to overpower me. As he makes impact, I brace by grabbing his shoulders and spreading my legs outward to allow myself to not only absorb but also to redirect his momentum. As he comes in, I allow him to push me back. Then I drop, pulling his body still forward, putting my right foot into his lower torso and pushing him up and over me into the steel cage. Whack! I don’t have long before he recovers, so I spring back to my feet and turn quickly to see Brad rushing me again. This time I use a front kick to his groin area, stunning him. I go in with a flying knee, blowing Brad back against the cage wall. The expression on his face is of pain and dismay and disbelief that I am able to hit with such precision and force.

Before he can even think, I go in with my shoulder, slamming into his torso then grabbing him. I proceed to lift him like a sack of potatoes, spinning him in midair to slam him onto the mat below. I can hear the surprise reactions of all the other onlookers as to how fast this fight is going to be over.

“Wham!” Brad now lies sound asleep from the impact, knocked out, and I stand looking directly at the man with the clipboard, but he simply makes a mark on his paperwork.

“Alright! That is round one. Let’s get this moving! Next!”

As I walk out of the cage, Dr. Pruitt gives me a nod. I can see he is glad I did well while the other young men just stare in disbelief that my match lasted literally only a minute while theirs had gone on for at least five to ten minutes each. Everyone, even the winners, had sustained some sort of injury or another at this point. Now I know everyone wants to beat me, but I am accustomed to such attention.

Chapter 17

Each round becomes more challenging, but the results are the same. I win and go on to the next standoff. What becomes apparent is, that as well conditioned as these other young men are, they are not prepared mentally. It is evident when things are not going their way, they try to rely on their raw strength, which means they have already lost. One by one, I tactically beat them, having watched their previous fights, learning their basic strategies. When it comes time to fight them, I know their general weaknesses. My father always told me to never underestimate your opponent. There is a total of thirty-two of us, and by early afternoon we have been whittled down to two.

I have managed to survive all of their onslaughts simply by keeping my emotions in check. But now I am in the final round between Steven and myself. We enter the steel octagon and await for the fight to begin. Both of us are a little battered but nothing that will not heal in a few days. I know this fight will be interesting, especially after having watched him in action. Of all the guys, I am not surprised to be facing him in the finals. He is always second behind me, and I know no one likes being second! We are told to begin, and so we both start, but Steven doesn’t rush me. He evidently has been watching as well. This fight should be good. As I watched him, I realize one thing: Steven tries to hurt each of his opponents. Not only does he like to win, but he likes to leave a message as well. Once we are done analyzing each other, we engage with a flurry of kicks and punches, some connecting and others missing their mark. Steven does a front thrust kick to my chest, blowing me back. I worry momentarily about the condition of my heart.

Before I can fully recover, he runs up the chain-linked wall and does a flying roundhouse kick to my head. I have never had that move used on me, and the pain is excruciating. He obviously has saved the move for me, and it has worked. I slam into the mat and am fighting to get back to my feet, but Steven lands on top of me while I am still on my back. He proceeds to punch me multiple times, trying to incapacitate me before I can recover. I manage to block most of them while my head is trying to remember what planet I am on. I know I have to react or in a matter of seconds this fight will be over. With what energy I have left, I thrust up, grabbing one of his arms and pull him forward, forcing him off balance, rolling him to my right side, off my body. I scramble to my feet and prepare for his onslaught. At this point, Steven is eager, knowing I am hurt. But remember, sometimes wounded animals are the most dangerous.

He is overzealous. I allow him to think I am still disoriented. He comes in, unprepared for the right elbow that connects to his temple. I throw a roundhouse kick to his leg, stunning him even further. I grab him and knee him three times in the abdomen to cause further damage. I pick him up and slam him to the ground. Now on top, I proceed to hit him multiple times but out of nowhere, Steven kicks me with the heel of his foot right in my face. He grabs my wrist, wrapping his legs around my left arm, holding firm. I can’t move it. I’m in an arm bar!

I am exhausted. I can’t believe he has the energy to do this. I see we are both in the final round for a reason. I clasp my hands together to prevent the full effect, but I can feel my fingers slipping. If this happens, my arm can be broken. This is something I do not want to experience, but I know Steven will not hesitate to do it. Steven struggles to make me lose my grip. When I do, the pain is immense, since I can feel the pressure build on my arm. I know I have only moments to either quit or reengage or have my arm broken.

I look at our small audience outside of the ring and see the other young men cheering and shouting. I see Dr. Pruitt with a concerned look on his face. Then images of my mother and father come to me. I remember the Johnson family and other people who are counting on me, and I know I need to find a way to win, a way back to my family and those I need to help. I refocus and shift my weight, enabling me to re-clasp my hands to prevent my arm from being broken. I proceed to slowly lift Steven off the mat until we are face-to-face. I will never forget the astonished look on his face as I lift him further and slam him directly into the mat with all I have left, knocking him out.

It is over and I won! Exhausted but still intact, I thank God for his help in my time of need. I see the perfect smile of my constant observer, who has not only put down his clipboard but also has joined in the applause. Dr. Pruitt comes into the cage and checks us both out and helps me to my feet.

“Well done, John,” he whispers in my ear. I head to the locker room, and he seems relieved that I had not only won but I was going to be okay.

Shortly after, we all come back out where our special visitor is waiting to address us.

“Well, I can say that you boys put on quite the show! Something the State will be real proud to hear when I go back to give my report! Your progress is quite impressive, particularly yours, John!” When I hear this I am stunned. I do not know why the State has such an interest in some typical fifteen-year-old boy.

The man continues. “Your therapy will continue and your progress is expected to increase, but let me make it clear you are not here by happenstance. You are a specialized group that will help the State and its vision in the near future! That will be all! Go get some rest; you have a lot more to do!” After this speech, he turns around, dons his green Army hat, and exits through a door.

Days pass and I can do more. One day I’m doing the exercises alone with only Dr. Pruitt. I have to pull on some weights, but again they are hidden behind a curtain. I still have no idea how much I am actually pulling. Today the weights seem to be more than normal, and I actually start to break a sweat. But I am still able perform my normal reps. When I am done, I let go earlier than I normally do. The weights slam into the ground behind the curtain and literally shake the floor.

Chapter 18

Dr. Pruitt stops me. “Good, good,” he says, jotting something down on his clipboard with a smile. “Now let’s see how many push-ups you can do.” I begin the normal routine and before I realize it, I am at two hundred before I am even halfway tired.

“That’s enough, John, more than enough.” I jump up ready to do something else, but suddenly Nurse Garrison appears in the doorway and the smile on the doctor’s face drops.

“Well, I think you’ve done quite enough today. Nurse Garrison will see you to your room.” It is apparent at this point that Dr. Pruitt may be here to oversee this project, but he is not too friendly with the rest of those he works with. Nurse Garrison is always lurking and watching beyond what I have ever seen the other nurses do. It is apparent she is an extra pair of eyes and ears for the State.

“I can do more,” I say, not ready to go back to my room with nothing more than a television set.

“I think you’ve done enough, John, it’s time to go.” I follow the Amazonian form of Nurse Garrison down the hall and back into my room.

“You will wait here,” she orders. A few moments later, I hear voices outside my room.

“He’s ready now,” Nurse Garrison says in her calm, monotone voice.

“No, he needs more time!” The other voice belongs to Dr. Pruitt.

“There is no more time; they are coming today.”

“That’s fine, he can join them tomorrow.”

“They won’t like that.”

“I don’t care what they like.”

“Fine, but you have to tell them why he’s not ready.”

Minutes later, Dr. Pruitt bursts into my room carrying a white laundry sack. Thrusting it into my arms he says, “I won’t let them take you.”

I do not know who he is referring to, but I am not the son of the man who distrusts the State for nothing.

“You are brave and strong and honest; this is why I gave you the best heart. This is also the reason they must never get you. Go! Go now!” Inside the white bag are my red backpack and some new street clothes with the tags still on. Even for Dr. Pruitt these are expensive. The shirt is green and the pants are khaki. They look too big for me. Before I can question him, Dr. Pruitt departs the room, looking both ways as he does. I remove the hospital jumpsuit, ball it up, and place it inside a cupboard against the wall. There is little to nothing inside, so I don’t think anyone will find it any time soon. The clothes are a little baggy but no big deal; they are the kind that dries quickly and repels moisture. Last I rip off the paper hospital tag.

I grab a Kleenex off the counter, wrap the tag in it, and place it inside the trash can. My father always makes sure I know my surroundings. You never know what might happen. So now I know the way out of this hospital like I know the way to school or church. The map has helped but while I was here, I have purposely memorized the hospital floor.

I take the stairwell to avoid any direct contact with staff members and any other patients. As I find my way to the main floor, I look around to ensure that I am not attracting any unwanted attention. I hear the security guard at the front desk talk to someone on a radio. He says, “No, sir, there has been no unusual activity. Everything has been quiet.”

I don’t want to draw attention to myself, so I know the best thing to do is to walk calmly out the front door. Just as I am approaching the desk, the security guard receives a call. He gets up from his desk and walks over to the elevator. As he gets up from the desk, I hide behind one of the massive pillars. Once he is gone around the corner toward the elevators, I proceed to the front lobby doors where I see a platoon of soldiers congregating outside the glass hospital doors. I start to sweat as I pull the green cap down over my eyes, but I walk purposely through the front lobby just as many men in military uniforms are filling the foyer. As the door closes behind me, I hear the sergeant yell to his platoon, “Lock this place down. No one in or out from this moment on!”