Sixty for Sixty

The stage lights spear my eyes as the platform rises. The sea of faces cheer, jeer, heckle, and chant. Across the way, I hear the whir and groaning gears of the opposite platform like some rising beast. Then I see him. The disheveled man across from me has a bleak emptiness in his eyes.

“Sixty, sixty, sixty!” The crowd chants as the large gold board above us flashes a huge uncanny sixty-second timer. I’m still disoriented, and the start buzzer doesn’t help. A ringing cuts through my brain and the world becomes silent and splits in two.

It’s enough to give the man and his twin the edge, as he lunges forward and atop me. As my back hits the bottom of the strange ring and stage hybrid, the world is knocked back into one, and the crowd’s screams erupt in my head once more.

The man’s stench strikes me as hard as his first two strikes do. I can taste the rusty flavor that I recognize as my own blood. Behind him I watch the golden godly numbers fade from 50 to 49.

Another large buzzer blares from above, but this one doesn’t catch me off guard.

I hear some more mechanical grumblings and watch a dagger fall from the sky above. It chings and chimes, as it dances gracefully about until it finally comes to rest on the ground beside us. Salvation, I think, as I reach for it, only to take another cracking shot to the jaw. Momentarily, stunned my eyes widen, and my throat becomes a desert, as I watch the man reach and clutch the dagger tightly.

He holds it high above him as if offering some sacrifice to the elite Gods above us. His over-animated telegraphed motion is a mistake and buys me enough time to prepare. By the time he thrust down I’m blocking and grabbing his arm. His mule-like strength sends ripples of pain through my arms, chest, and shoulders, but my instinct to survive allows me to match his strength for now.

“Kill him, kill him”. The crowd chants like some morbid jury before erupting into boos. We must have been locked in a stalemate for a good ten seconds, because the clock is now at 39, and there’s that damn buzzer again. Every ten seconds another weapon falls. That’s the rule. This time a large stone falls beside us with a thud.

It’s primitive, but it’s my only chance. I grip the stone with my left hand, and with a barbaric slap crash it into the man’s temple. He cries out like a wounded animal, and sticky blood runs from the side of his skull, painting half his body and my hand red as a Crayola crayon.

For a moment, the crowd goes silent, lost in awe to the brutal and savage scene. Then they erupt once more in cheer. This time they are rooting for me, as I make a comeback in this deadly game.

The man’s fallen off me. Still groaning, he grabs at the wound on his head with his free hand. In his other hand he’s still clutching the dagger tightly. His eyes fixated upon me with deadly intent.

“Stop, drop the dagger and let’s just share the credits.” I say in a low enough tone so that only he can hear me. Slowly he shakes his head left to right, as he rises up back up into a combat stance. I follow suit clutching the rock as if my life depended on it.

The clock strikes twenty-nine, and there’s that damn buzzer again. We are nearing the end of this twisted ordeal, I think to myself. Just have to make it another 30 seconds. A gun drops off to our left and I can see a devilish grin fall upon the man’s unkept face.

He eyes the weapon with a perversely intense stare, and waves the knife out in front of him once or twice as he steps closer towards it. I step forward as, well holding the rock up as if it was some mighty sword.

The man chuckles. “Cute, but you won’t get me again. Don’t worry tho, I’ll make it quick.” He snickers as he feels for the pistol with his off-hand, not taking his eyes or dagger off of me.

My heart is racing like I had too much caffeine. He’s nearly got it now, and I know I have to act. I don’t hesitate or think twice. I throw the stone at him with all my might.

It catches him off guard. His arms flail about, but it makes contact, and while not a devastating blow, it distracts him long enough. With his hand away from the gun I lunge forward, and crack my knee into his chin.

The blow lands clean, but not without consequence. I don’t feel it much at first, but then the burning sensation kicks in, and I see the dagger protruding from my left calf, blood flowing from my leg like a can of spilled paint.

I stumble back limping and contemplating who got the worst of the exchange. The man is on his back now still fumbling, trying to inch his hand closer to the gun.

In the distance, the gold numbers drop to twenty and the buzzer rings out in a tone of defiance and salvation. A wood bat descends to my right from the heavens above, and makes the satisfying rare sound that only an echoing wood bat can.

18 seconds left and time has but slowed to a crawl. I can’t explain the phenomenon, but it’s really just like the movies. Those scenes when you see everything in slow motion. It’s happened to me once before when I evaded a car crash with a semi truck on the freeway and the car behind me took the impact.

I see each of his fingers inch and snake their way to the gun. I see the bat bounce beside me. My timing is impeccable as I snatch it up in mid air. He’s grabbing the gun now and trying to turn and aim it at me.

Fourteen seconds illuminates before me and I don’t think twice. I rush forward, hammering the bat down on his skull just in time. He tries to aim , but the hard wooden bat crashes onto him, turning what once was a dirty disheveled stern face into a mass of blood and pulp.

His hand twitches still holding the gun and a shot blares out into nothingness, triggering another blow. I’m lost now and can’t help myself from raining down strikes on what once was a skull. In the distance, I hear that damn buzzer again and watch a can of pepper spray irrelevantly fall behind us, as I continue my bludgeoning.

Ten, nine, 8, 7, 6, each number that hits the gold panel is met with a strike and splatters of blood. All the way to the final second when the chime of a gong and bells ring out. I drop the bat and stare at the bloody stump before me. In the background, the orchestra of approval rings out in the form of cheering and applause.

Mechanical groans sound off lifting a beautiful woman from beneath this arena. She’s dressed in an elegant purple and gold gown and smells like a bed of flowers. A celestial scent I haven’t experienced since my fall.

Her voice is just as angelic and charismatic. “Congratulations you’ve just won the sixty for sixty challenge. By unaliving your opponent, you’ve earned all sixty food credits and by receiving over six hundred likes you’ll earn a bonus sixty food credits. Totaling 120 food credits. Tell me any special treats or favorite food you’ll spend your winnings on?”

She forces the mic in my face. I’m still in shock but manage to speak. “No, me and my wife just had a baby last year, and she’s pregnant again, so these credits won’t last long, ya know.” The woman nodded with a soft smile. “Ah yes I do! Well, you seem to have gained some popularity today and with your situation, I doubt it will be the last we see you. Congratulations again on the win.”

As the platform descends, I gaze once more upon the bloody stump I had just created. It had been only sixty seconds, and the credits will last maybe a month or so, but that man’s face, the life I took, that will live on in my nightmares forever!