The Zero Game

79

Stumbling backward toward the open hole at the end of the air tunnel, I don’t waste time trying to slow myself down. Using everything that’s left, I spin to the side and try to turn myself around.

By the time I can see the depth of the pit, I’m only a few steps from the rim. But at least I’m moving fast. My foot touches down on the edge of the hole, and I use the speed to take a huge diagonal leap to my right. Inertia carries me most of the way. I just barely clear the corner of the hole — which is good — but now I’m headed straight for a brick wall — which is bad.

Putting my palms out, I slam into the wall at full speed. My arms take most of the impact, but as my full weight hits, my elbow gives way. The pain’s too much. Janos tore it up pretty bad. Collapsing to the floor, I roll over onto my back, prop myself up on my good elbow, and glance over at the open pit. Stray pebbles and flecks of dirt tumble into the mouth of the hole. I listen to see how long it takes till they hit bottom, but before I realize what’s happening, there’s a tight tug on the front of my shirt. I look up just as Janos tries to yank me up.

In full panic and unable to fight, I scootch on my rear end, trying to crab-walk away. His grip’s too tight. Holding me with his left hand, he uses his right to backhand me across the forehead. Again, he knows exactly what he’s aiming for. His knuckle slices open my eyebrow. The blood comes fast, rushing down the side of my face and blinding me even worse than before. He’s trying to take the fight out of me, but as the impact knocks me back on my ass, I lash out with the only thing I’ve got left. Kicking upward and aiming between his legs, I plant the toe of my shoe deep into his testicles.

Janos grits his teeth to hide the grunt, but there’s no mistaking the damage. Bent over, he grabs tight at his crotch. More important, he finally lets go of my shirt. Scrambling backwards, all I need are a few seconds. But it’s still not enough. Before I can even get to my feet, Janos picks himself up and plows straight at me. From the look on his face, all I did was make him mad.

Behind me, I bump into the side of the air conditioner, which dead-ends perpendicular to the wall. I’m all out of running space.

“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him.

As always, he’s silent. His eyes tighten, and a thin sneer takes his lips. From here on in, he’s doing this for himself.

Gripping my ear, Janos squeezes hard and twists it back. I can’t help but lift my chin. He tightens his grip, and I’m staring at the ceiling. My neck’s completely exposed. Winding up for the final blow, he…

… snaps his head to the left and staggers off balance. A loud hollow thud echoes through the air. Something clipped him in the back of the head. The amazing part is, at the last second, he managed to roll with it — almost as if he sensed it was coming. Still, he was skunked pretty hard — and as he holds his head and lurches sideways toward the brick wall, I finally see what’s behind him. Gripping the nine iron I dropped earlier, Viv readies the club in perfect batting stance.

“Get the hell away from my friend,” she warns.

Janos looks over in disbelief. It doesn’t last long. As he locks on Viv, his forehead furrows and his fists constrict. If he’s in pain, he’s not showing it. Instead, it’s all rage. His eyes are black — two tiny pieces of charcoal in sunken sockets.

Lunging forward like a rabid dog, he flies at Viv. She swings the club with clenched teeth, hoping to put another dent in his head. I tried the same thing earlier. She doesn’t have a chance.

Catching the club in midswing, Janos twists it sharply, then jabs it forward like a pool cue toward her face. The blunt end of the club stabs her right in the throat. Teetering backwards, Viv clutches her neck, unable to breathe. From sheer momentum, she manages to rip the golf club from his hands, but she can’t hold on to it, and it drops to the floor. Janos doesn’t need it. As Viv violently coughs, he blocks the path out and moves in for the kill.

“S-Stay back,” she gasps.

Janos grips the front of her shirt, pulls her toward him, and in one blurred movement, swipes his elbow into her face. It catches her in the eyebrow, just like mine — but this time, even as the blood comes, Janos doesn’t let up. He jabs his elbow forward and tags her again. And again. All in the same spot. He’s not just trying to knock her out…

“Don’t touch her…!” I shout, hurtling forward. My arm’s so swollen, I can’t even feel it. My legs are shaking, barely able to hold me up. I don’t care. He’s not taking her, too.

Ignoring the pain, I rush in, slamming him from behind and wrapping my arm around his neck. He swipes his hand back over his own shoulder, trying to take my head off. The only chance we have is two against one. It’s still not enough.

Viv tries to scratch at his cheek, but Janos is ready. Lifting up both feet, he kicks her directly in the face. Viv flies backwards, slamming into the metal side of the air conditioner. Her head hits first. She sinks, unconscious. Refusing to let up, Janos whips his head back, smashing me in the nose. The loud pop tells me it’s broken.

Letting go of Janos, I stumble backwards, my face a bloody mess.

Janos doesn’t slow down. He marches right at me… a walking tank. I take a swing with my left hand, and he blocks the punch. I try to raise my right, but it sags like a tube sock full of sand. “P-Please…” I beg.

Janos pummels me again in the nose, unleashing a sickening crunch. As I continue to stumble, he glances over my shoulder. Like before, he’s got his eyes on the open hole.

“Don’t… please don’t…!”

He shoves me backwards, and I crash to the ground, hoping it’ll at least stop me from moving. Just as I look up, he clutches my shirt and tugs me to my feet. The hole’s right behind me. Unlike before, he’s not giving me any extra running space.

Janos pulls me in for one last shove. My right arm’s dead. My head’s on fire. The only thing my brain processes is the smell of black licorice on his breath.

“You can’t win,” I stutter. “No matter what you do… it’s over.”

Janos stops. His eyes narrow with his smirk. “I agree,” he says.

His hands burst forward, plowing me in the chest. I go reeling toward the hole. Last time, I made the mistake of trying to grab his shirt. This time, I go for the man himself. Stealing his own trick, I reach out, grip Janos’s ear, and hold tight.

“What’re you — ?!” Before he can even get out the question, we’re both heading for the hole.

My foot slides down the edge. I still don’t let go. Janos’s head jerks forward. As I slip down, sliding off the edge, Janos grabs my arm, trying to ease his own pain. I continue to hold tight. He crashes down on his chest. It slows our descent, but I’m already moving too fast. The lower half of my body’s already in the hole… and slipping quick. As I slide, bits of gravel bite at my stomach. The concrete does the same to Janos’s chest. He’s following me, headfirst. As we continue to skid, he lets go of my arm with one hand and struggles to backpedal, clawing at the concrete; I kick at the inside walls of the hole, searching for a foothold to stop our fall. Janos shuts his eyes, digging in with everything he has. There’s a huge vein running down the front of his forehead. His face is tomato soup. He’s not letting me take his ear with me. And then, out of nowhere… we stop.

A final cloud of dirt and dust rolls off the edge of the floor, landing on my face. I’m dangling by my left arm, which is the only part of me not in the hole. My armpit’s on the edge, which holds most of my weight, but my hand grips on to Janos’s ear with whatever strength I have left. It’s the only reason he’s holding my wrist. Flat on his chest, and realizing we’ve stopped, he continues to hold tight. If he lets go, I’ll definitely plunge down the hole, but I’ll be taking part — if not all — of him with me.

Thanks to the pressure on his ear, Janos can barely pick his head up. His cheek is pressed against the concrete. But not for long. Twisting slightly, he glances my way — making sure I can’t get out. From inside the hole, my chin and arm sit just above the edge. He’s ready to send me the rest of the way down.

“Janos, don’t…!”

Trying to break my grip, he squeezes my wrist and shifts his position. He’s too off balance. We slide down again, deeper into the hole, then come to another sudden stop. Instead of my armpit, I’m down to my elbow, which now holds part of my weight. Janos is still on his stomach. His cheek’s in the dirt, and the way his body’s turned, one of his shoulders is already over the edge. My eyes barely peek above the rim. I still refuse to let go. I’m gripping his ear so tight, it’s turning purple. If I go down holding on to him, he’ll follow fast.

Below my feet, the tiny plink of fallen rocks echoes from below. No question, it’s a long way to the bottom. Ignoring the risk, Janos digs his fingers into the underside of my wrist. The pain is indescribable. I can’t hold on any longer. My pinkie slides off his earlobe. He pulls his head back, trying to tug himself free. My ring finger slips off next. He’s almost there. The way he’s gripping my wrist, it feels like he’s about to puncture my skin. I rake at the concrete with my free hand, but I’m down too far. There’s no way to get a handhold. The pain’s too much. I have to let…

“Janos, you drop him and you’ll race him to the bottom,” a familiar female voice warns. She puts a foot on his hip, threatening to shove him down.

Janos freezes… and grabs my arm. My weight’s no longer on his ear, but I still hold tight to it. He doesn’t even try to turn his head toward the voice. I don’t blame him. As close as he is to the edge, one wrong move, and we’re both going down.

I look over Janos’s shoulder. Viv’s on her feet, the golf club cocked in the air.

“I’m serious,” Viv says. “You let him go, and I’ll tee your head up and knock you to Nashville.”