The Eye of the Llama

by Gary D. Snyder

Part 19:

At the sound of the bell Carl moved with exaggerated caution towards the center of the ring towards his opponent, his lungs freshly charged with Jimmy's hyper-oxygenated compound. Despite his recent training long experience with bullies and a deep-rooted fear of the unknown had taught him to be careful in new situations with people he did not know. The fact that this situation was on an alien planet and the person he was facing was a hostile 8-foot insectoid giant only increased his tendency to be wary.

Although not as timid as Carl Vermax also moved forward carefully. He had never fought a human before and in his professional career he had learned not to underestimate an opponent. In addition, experience had shown that there was no profit to be had by simply beating an opponent into the ground. Should the human prove to be as weak and simple as he appeared to be Vermax would have to make a fine show of defeating him and thus please the crowd. No victory must appear to be too easily won.

As the two combatants maneuvered around each other, searching for an opening, it was Vermax who struck first. A padded yet massive fist hurtled towards Carl, threatening to turn his head into a shapeless lump. But when Vermax's punch reached its intended destination Carl's head was no longer there. With a yelp he had leaped backwards out of reach, nearly spanning the width of the ring. The super-elasticized Neutrogunk on his shoes, coupled with the added energy from the increased oxygen, had given him the ability to leap somewhat further than the average kangaroo. The next few minutes consisted of Vermax swinging wildly but futilely at Carl with Carl bounding about Vermax at each new blow like a demented rabbit around an angry turtle. With each new punch and jump the crowd let loose another gasp and subsequent cheer. Klag and Derl were enjoying the exhibition as much as anyone, having never seen anything like it.

"This is certainly impressive," announced Klag. "I don't know anyone who's ever been able to avoid Vermax's best punches like this."

"Indeed, Klag," agreed Derl. "The human is clearly demonstrating his superior agility and dexterity. Our planetwide viewers and the crowd here are definitely getting their money's worth with this match."

"The only question now is just how long he can keep it up, Derl."

"And if he hopes to win, he has to change his strategy. I don't think he's thrown a punch yet. If he wants to win this fight, he'll have to start taking the offensive soon. Otherwise Vermax could take this round on points."

"And it looks as though – oh, that was a close one! As I was saying, it looks as through Vermax is definitely getting angrier. And the angrier he gets –"

"- the stronger he gets. I only hope the ring can stand up to his punches, Klag."

In the ring Carl could see that Vermax did in fact appear to be getting stronger, and on occasion a blow meant for him would strike one of the struts supporting the ropes that enclosed the ring. When the punch landed the entire ring would shake, throwing Carl off-balance and giving Vermax a chance to land a real punch. Carl had so far been able to avoid being struck, but he knew that it would only take one punch to end the fight. As the round dragged on and his supercharged lungs began to empty he wondered how much longer he could keep avoiding Vermax's attacks. Jimmy had told him the compound would last about five or six minutes and he was already starting to feel short of breath. He was also beginning to feel parched as the exertion and heat of the arena lights dehydrated him.

In the royal box Cindy looked at her watch and worried. The fight had been going on for about six minutes, but the round was not yet over. She wanted to excuse herself on some pretext as soon as the round ended so that she could sneak down and tell Sheen and Carl to keep the fight going, but thus far the round showed no signs of ending. Finally she turned to Princess Leama. "Excuse me," she said, "but just how long is this fight? How long are the rounds?"

"Did you not know?" asked Leama. "I must apologize. On Felangie we follow the galactic standard of 3 rounds of ten standard timeparts, or approximately seventeen Felangian chronals each."

"A chronal?" Cindy echoed.

"Yes. The fight has been going on for about five chronals now."

Cindy used that information to do some rapid figuring and was shocked. The round was going to last close to twenty minutes. A quick look at Carl convinced her that he was tiring fast and that he would be lucky to last through even the first round. Keep the fight going an hour? she thought. How in the world am I going to manage to get Carl to do that?

"Your friend Carl is doing quite well so far," the princess commented. "Do you expect him to do any hitting soon?"

Yes, Cindy thought. Against the mat. But all she said was, "I certainly hope so."

In the ring Vermax sensed that his opponent was tiring and began to plan his moves and punches more carefully. Rather than just swinging wildly at the pesky fly that buzzed about him he would feint and then swing as rapidly as he could at where he expected Carl to leap next. With each punch Carl reacted a little more slowly and leapt a little less far. And with each punch Vermax's guess as to Carl's landing position grew a little more accurate. It was only a matter of time before one of his mighty punches would find its target. Only sheer luck and adrenaline had carried him this far.

After what seemed like hours to Carl the ordeal came to a sudden and brutal end. Vermax threw a carefully considered combination of three quick punches. Carl succeeded in slipping the first punch and needed a second or two to avoid the others. Fortune blessed him with the first second, and then, fickle companion that she was, denied him the second. A crushing blow slammed into him, knocking him to the mat and sending him spinning into darkness. Instantly the crowd was on its feet, twenty thousand voices merging into a deafening clamor. Cindy and Libby were on their feet as well, their faces frozen with horror as the announcers' voices flooded into the box in a shrill stream.

"…the human is down…"

"…not clear how badly hurt…"

"…could be all over now…"

"…count is starting…"

In the ring an official had begun counting Carl out, his voice as solemn and rhythmic as the toll of a bell. As the count progressed Sheen pleaded with Carl to get up.

"One."

"Come on, Carl. You can do it."

"Two."

"You've come this far already."

"Three."

"Don't check out now, buddy."

"Four."

"It's not over 'til it's over, you know."

"Five."

"Please? For Ultra Lord?"

"Six."

"For me?"

"Seven."

"For the llamas?"

"Eight."

"For the love of humanity, please get up!"

"Nine."

Sheen hung his head in defeat. It was over.

And then just as suddenly, it was not. As the official raised his hand for the final count the bell sounded, ending the round. Like a pistol shot Sheen was in the ring and pulled the senseless Carl to his corner. Once there he struggled desperately to revive the boy, wiping his face with a damp cloth. Carl stirred sluggishly, mumbling incoherently. Encourage by this Sheen seized Carl's inhaler and sprayed the hyper-oxygenated compound into Carl's mouth, pressing his diaphragm to force him to take a breath. After a couple seconds Carl coughed and opened his eyes. He looked about him unsteadily and tried to focus his eyes on Sheen.

"Mom?" was all he could say.

"Carl!" Sheen cried joyfully. "You're alive!"

"Uh…yeah," Carl replied unsteadily. "I guess. Did I win?"

Now that Carl was conscious again Sheen decided that it was time to put an end to the fight. "Carl, listen to me. You can't go back in there." Sheen interrupted as Carl tried to speak. "Don't try to argue about it. That guy will kill you to death if you go back in that ring."

"Who's arguing?" asked Carl feebly. "I'm not going back in there. Can I have some water?"

"But you have to go back in, Carl," another voice said.

"Well, okay, if you say so," said Sheen. "I just thought that – hey!" His head snapped around. "Cindy! What are you doing here?'

"Water," Carl croaked.

"There's something important I have to say," Cindy answered, moving closer to Carl. "Listen, Carl, I know you're hurting. And I can't force you to go back in. But it's important that you do. You have to finish the fight."

"Why?" asked Sheen, handing Carl a flask.

"Yeah, why?" asked Carl, between parched gulps.

Cindy shook her head. "I can't tell you. All I can tell you is that it's important. If you don't want to go in, you don't have to. But…this could be the most important thing you've ever done in your life."

Carl wiped his mouth. "Uh-uh, no way. I'm not going back out there."

Cindy thought. Jimmy had told her that a lot depended on keeping the fight going for an hour, but sending Carl back in was tantamount to asking him to commit suicide. Jimmy surely must have known that and now she had to trust that he had known what he was asking. She knew that she would hate herself forever for what she was about to say, but felt that she had no choice. "Carl, please. Princess Leama is counting on you."

Carl roused himself. "Leama?" he repeated faintly.

"Yes. You have to do this for her. She…she needs you."

A strange look crossed Carl's face. As a young girl Cindy had read stories of men who had endured hardships and perils beyond description for the love of a woman, but as she grew older she had come to believe that she would ever meet anyone who would actually do so. As Carl struggled painfully to his feet she found herself believing once again in a love that was stronger than time and deeper than the reaches of space itself. "Let's do this," Carl said grimly, sucking once again on his inhaler. As he did so the bell rang again.

Round Two had begun.

End of Part 19