Page 53 of Wild Child
Ellie.
Ellie.
Her face swam before my eyes, concerned. Frightened, even. My mind registered fear in her gaze. Why was she afraid? Why did she look at me like she'd never see me again? I fell back to the desert floor, unable to hold myself up anymore. Gritty dirt pressed into my cheek as I hit the ground with a dullthudand passed out.
With a hard shake of my head, I broke the hallucination and returned to the present.I'm not there,I told myself firmly.I'm here.
The mountains returned. The smell of burnt hair receded, giving way to smoke instead. Blinking hard, I slowly straightened. My thoughts fluttered away like feathers in a breeze.
"Break time!" a male voice called and broke apart my hallucination. "Joe is just about dead. Get these two some water. Collins, take your loser and get out of here. No pixie dust for you."
A dark silhouette appeared between me and the bonfire, but I didn't dare move. My body stillwouldn'tmove, like it was locked back in Afghanistan, my left shoulder pinned under a piece of the shattered Humvee. The person approached. My upper lip curled. The fingers of my right hand tucked into my palm. The flash of a familiar, white-toothed smile set the hair on the back of my neck up on edge.
"Well, well," Kimball drawled. "The conquering hero awakes."
He grabbed my shoulder and shoved me toward the fire. Too weak to fight back, I stumbled that way. The blood threatened to drain from my head again as I tried to keep my feet underneath me. The pounding headache became a vice around my skull. I leaned to the side and vomited.
"Time to make you useful," Kimball muttered, then shouted, "Collins! Hold up. Let's give your boy Joe a chance to redeem himself."
* * *
The pressure of a hand squeezing the back of my neck drew me out of the hazy tunnel that threatened to take me back. Back to Afghanistan. Back to that night, the worst of all the most horrible days of my life. Back to where rage had been my only ally.
My only ticket home.
Rage had been my friend in Afghanistan. The source of grit that fueled my survival. It brought me back to life and threatened to consume me every day that I reclaimed that life. With a forced, deep breath, I glared at the other men in the circle. Maybe that burning rage would save me again.
Because these men might be massive, but I waspissed. Not just about Ellie's safety and their betrayal, but about everything. About my fellow soldier Trixie dying in my arms. About endless fear. Scratching out survival and a weird return home.
And I was ready to let it out.
Kimball shoved me into a circle of stones that clearly outlined a fighting ring. Two of the burly men sat on the ground off to the side, chests shiny with sweat. One of them was Steve. He glared at me through a split lip and a swollen left eye. His shoulders heaved up and down. Dust lingered around the edge of his nose and on his upper lip. Five yards away sat another beast of a man, his face scarred by what looked like fire. On the other side of the ring was the first fighter, Joe. His head lolled around on his neck while a smaller man slapped him and shouted in his ear.
And the anger grew inside me with every passing second.
"Where's Ellie?" I cried. Maybe she’d hear me and know I was awake. Kimball snorted but stayed out of arm’s reach. I swayed on my feet but tried to hide it by stepping to the side.
"Your girl is safe, don't worry. She's ready to be the honored prize. If the Creator will allow it, of course. He has in the past, as long as he gets them first."
The rat of a man that stood next to Kimball snickered. I vowed to get my hands on him, but held myself back for now. Functionality slowly returned to my limbs. My muscles. I felt my body reorient within itself, and my stomach settle.
Safe,Kimball had said.
But his eyes had darted to the cabin.
Take my distraction,I silently begged her.Take it and run.
I studied the two fighters on the other side of the ring while the throbbing in my head eased off a little. They still looked amped up. Their eyes were bloodshot. Were their pulses fast? I couldn't tell in the shadows. Looked like they were hopped up on something. Cocaine, if the dust on their noses meant anything. That definitely changed my odds.
"Here's the deal," Kimball said to me with a careless wave of his hand. "We love a good match, you know? And, frankly, Collin's boy Joe was no match for Steve or Rick." Kimball gestured to the man with the burned face when he said Rick. "But Joe might be a match foryou. So I'll make you a deal."
Kimball stood with his hands on his hips now, a superior expression on his face. Clearly, he enjoyed the power of a spotlight. Perhaps a bit too much. Every eye was riveted on him. Just to make sure of that, I shifted to the side. All their eyes caught mine next. Seconds later, a gentle, slight rustling sound came from the cabin.
"What's your deal?" I asked.
My voice rang through the night—too loud for how close they were—but no one turned a suspicious eye to the cabin.
Kimball studied me, then gestured to the trees. "Win against Joe and you go free."
