Wasteland Odyssey

Chapter Five: The Circle

(An Hour Later)

Nick sidled up to Chance and kept pace with the taller boy, "So how does Bren know a raid is being worked out?" It had only been a day, and just barely, but those Northerners seemed pretty determined, especially that messenger. But that didn't strike him as enough for Bren to bite on, "How sure is he?"

Chance briefly glanced down, "He told me his old man and that messenger talked about it briefly yesterday while securing those weapons we all found. And I wouldn't be surprised if it's already been decided. Naddok has been preparing for something like this for awhile. Lot of the older guys have been talking about it ever since the Northerners' got here."

"So, he isn't positive, and the same goes for you. Awesome," Nick groaned.

It was here that Bren called back, "I know what I'm talking about," and when Nick looked, he noticed Bren was standing by a patch in a wall covered by a few wooden pallets and burlap covers, his horse hitched off to the side. The alley Chance had been leading him down opened up into a wider hideaway.

"What's this?"

Chance climbed down from his horse to start help Bren move the pallets to open a hole through the wall, "In here is another tunnel, kind of like the one we found yesterday. Except this one runs into the Glade at one of the guard houses. My dad had this dug in case of emergencies."

"Okay, but why aren't we just using the main gate?" God, Nick hated tunnels.

Bren chuckled nervously, and Nick didn't think it was natural for the older boy, "Yeah, I'd rather not have to deal with the trouble involved with how haggard we look. Chief would have a fucking field-day." Nick cracked a small smile hearing that as the three shuffled into the exposed breach. "We need to get you some gear, and there's only two ways of doing that here outside of raiding. Either buy or trade, or we can go to the Circle."

"And the 'Circle,' is, what, exactly?"

Bren glanced back with a predatory grin, "You'll see soon enough."

And so their journey continued, carrying on through the narrow passage in silence as Nick mulled over just what these two had in store for him now. He felt the unease in his gut build with every step until finally they all came to a cellar, stocked with some spare munitions and non-spoiling food stuffs.

The click of a gun was enough to get Nick to flinch, "God dammit! Fuck, that scared me."

Bren and Chance paid him no mind as they walked to the end of the room, where a chair occupied by a lone guard stood watch, pistol raised and easily concealed in the darkness. The guard then lowered his gun hand into his lap as he eased the hammer back, "Ah, I was wondering if I'd see you today." He stood and shared a handshake with both boys, Nick watching curiously from the background. "Another fifteen and my shift would have been over. Drew isn't as cool as me, when you come sneaking in with injuries."

"Drew Barker," Chance scoffed, thinking of just how an encounter with him would go. Drew was the kind of guy that'd make you walk all the way back out and use the front entrance, just because. Skittish too, but that skittishness wasn't cowardice; combine that with good hearing and sharp eyes, he was probably one of the best guards in the camp. But, he was an asshole and a tough one that didn't take shit from anybody unless their name was Naddok or Fergus. "Yeah, I'd rather not rile Drew up today," Chance said, shaking his head.

Nick watched the three speak as he scrutinized the new addition. It was hard to make out some details, he was tall like Chance, but skinnier. His hair almost hung in front of his eyes and he had scruff under his nose and around his chin, dark in color. He was shadowed better in the dark room than the rest of them, so he had a darker skin tone.

"Who's 'Small Fry'?" he heard coming from the new guy. All three were now looking at him.

Bren pointed back at him, "That's Petty, and we're taking him to the Circle. Mind unlocking the way, Austin?" Changing the topic before the smallest among them blew a gasket. He wouldn't of minded sticking around to catch-up, but he wanted to get things moving today.

'Austin' shrugged his shoulders, "Well shit, little guy looking for easy steals?" Turning, his stride carried him to a small set of stairs and a pair of storm doors at the far wall, the rest following behind. After stepping up onto the second step, he felt around the center until he snagged the padlock, then started fiddling with the bottom. "I heard there's been a kid tearing it up the last week or so, 'bout his age," he mentioned, nodded his head toward Nick, but staying focused on the padlock. "Marvin, or Melvin or something. A prospect that's been having a nice run. Think your boy can handle it?"

"One on one, I'd say so." Bren knew Petty wasn't a push over, he'd seen it before back at East Camp and the incident with Michael was a jumping more than any honest bout. Naddok and Fergus taught himself well, and they weren't the heads of the tribe for nothing. Fergus had been teaching Petty since the boy could walk, and most of his peers avoided a straight fight nowadays unless they had the numbers like Michael had.

"Damn right, Uncle didn't spend hours beating the shit out of me for nothing." Nick burst out, finally speaking since he was startled earlier. He was starting to work himself up at the thought of some hot shot he could knock down a peg or two. He knew there was no way any kid his age was going to hit him harder than Fergus had, which was why he turned out tougher and meaner than any others in his group back on the Barge.

Chance set a hand on Nick to simmer him down, "You'll get your chance soon enough." Chance figured the kid was ready, but here in the Glade, things were going to be different. Less. . . bias. Nick's age group wasn't going to know of him like they did back in East Camp. It'd definitely be a change of pace, and the talent pool for younger fighters just got a lot bigger in this larger camp. If he performs well, he would be getting some extra gear.

Chance glanced over at Bren. The recognition Nick could earn would play in their favor, and that's what Chance figured his best friend was counting on.

Austin chuckled as the lock finally came undone, "Well he seems fiery, that's for sure. Next bouts start early tomorrow." Shoving one of the double doors open, Austin stood aside and allowed them to pass, "I'll see you gents later, I'm sure." All three waved their goodbyes, while the door was closed behind them. Just before they made their first steps, "I need to get those clowns to replace this fucking lock," Nick heard from the other side of the door.

The storm cellar door had let them out into the south east corner of the camp, where the only pre-war houses that had been built on the once large vacant plot were located. Nick could see from some of the windows the heavily armed khans standing watch in the re-purposed guard posts, protecting the settlement's main gate. Nick trailed behind the others, and he could easily see the difference between the two camps, even with it being dark. As he walked through the long rows of tents, he noticed there were many wooden shacks that had been constructed here as well. The amount of people he saw here, was mind-boggling; Men, women and the adolescents by the dozens were strolling the packed-dirt streets, attending to their personal affairs, running errands for the tribe, or just idling around getting drunk with friends and comrades. Numerous packs of children ran about at play with dogs trotting merrily alongside, yipping and barking in delight. The three stepped aside to make way as a troop of Khans lead their horses towards the gate. Makeshift eateries and outdoor kitchens were set-up every few rows to service the many mouths to feed. Then again, nobody ever really went hungry, with so many hunters and scavengers out every day, he thought. "There has to be hundreds," he commented under his breath. This was just one set of living quarters. The place was literally buzzing with life and activity.

Bren came to a sudden stop, and he did as well to avoid bumping into him. The three were standing in front of one of the many shacks. "You'll stay here for the night. Rest up, and we'll get you for the Circle, alright?"

"Where are you two going?"

"My tent, to get rest too. Plus, I need to get this graze stitched and bandaged before Chief sees it," he said, stretching his side with a groan. "I think we all deserve it after today."

Hearing talk about rest, it was like all the stress up to that moment decided to pile on at once. He could use the rest, he would need his energy for tomorrow. Nick walked up to the door and allowed himself in. It was literally just a bed on the inside, but that was all he needed.

Laying on the bed, he idly thought of the girl, Levi, he'd met in the clinic, and wondered if he'd ever see her again.

(The Following Morning)

Knocking woke Nick, his body lurching forward into an upright position. He was breathing heavy, and a light sweat cooled his skin as he sat there thinking of the dream he'd been having. He felt like he didn't sleep at all, with Nate's and Denver's screaming, with Scar-face's last visage appearing in his mind's eye.

He had to shake it off. He couldn't appear weak, not today, not when the two waiting for him outside were trying to get him onto the coming raid.

He tossed off the fur covers and got to his feet, reaching the door to toss it open and allow Bren and Chance inside, but this time McMurphy and Jessup were along for the ride. "What's up, little man? Heard you're itching to go to the Circle." McMurphy said, looking mildly pleased with the idea.

"You had to bring them along?" Nick asked, leveling an annoyed look at Bren who just stood in the doorway.

"Not worried about losing in front of us, are you, Petty?" Jessup jabbed, but the smile on his face showed it to be a harmless tease this time around.

"Enough, come on. Grab your little side piece and let's go." Bren turned and waited outside. Jessup and McMurphy followed him out, Chance waiting with his arms crossed while Nick threw his boots on.

"You okay," he asked, just as Nick pulled on the last one. He must've seen his sweat, or he's the only one that cared to ask.

"Yeah, I think so. Just a dream."

Chance looked at him, silent, for just a second. "You can leave everything else, just have that nine, you'll need a wager," he said, as he too, walked out to stand with the others.

Nick pulled the pistol and tucked it in his waist and was out the door after them. Jessup was joking with McMurphy about all the prospects they'd see get bloodied, as they all walked towards where Nick assumed was the Circle. The camp didn't seem as lively as last night. Eventually, his comrade led him to a small break between the rows of jumbled tents and shacks.

Here, a crowd that was formed in a clustered mass, kids standing on large crates and bleachers placed around to give viewers more seating. Jeers and shouts filled the air. Quick glances at most of the attendee's and Nick saw they were around their age, but there were adults too, and Nick could hear betting being called from them even at this distance.

Just before they were to breach the crowd, Bren turned and stopped everyone, "Alright Petty, time to show 'em what you're made of."

Nick took a steady breath and nodded, taking the fore and snaking his way to the front. Once there, he finally got to see just what the 'Circle' was. At the center, two teens were slugging it out as they danced about at circle of turned over dirt, the color difference distinguishing what was in bounds and what was not.

There was a third person, a woman, acting as a referee for the two fighters. Brown long hair held back in a ponytail, she had a red bandana tied snugly around her neck that looked uncomfortable. She also wasn't wearing traditional khan leathers; instead choosing to wear a dirty white t-shirt tucked into loose tan fatigue pants, and even those were tucked into her brown boots. Something seemed odd about her for sure, she stood out from the other adults he'd seen. Something in her stance, the way she held herself was different from the run-of the-mill khan around the camps. Sturdy, like a tree with deep roots. Her dark shades gave her an edge that hid her eyes, the way she dressed, and her stance; she looked out of place.

Nick turned back to the fight when a furious right hand made that sweet smacking sound, ending the scuffle with one of the boy's flat on his ass. Curses and boo's were tossed around by those who'd misplaced their bets when the woman casually walked up to the downed contestant and nudged him with her foot and when there was no response, called the fight. Wordlessly, she took the winner's arm and held it high.

"Is that Martin?" Nick asked aloud, if it was then he didn't seem that tough.

"Nope, that's just Devon. Martin hasn't been here yet." A boy to his right told him, and Nick nodded. The proctor handed Devon two blades, one a machete and the other looked like a custom short blade about the same length. With a few test swings with the machete, they boy appeared to be satisfied with his win. Once he departed the arena, the Proctor took the center and glanced around the crowd. The boy glanced at Nick, "You new? Never seen you around before, and most kids end up here eventually."

"You could say that. I'm from East Camp, along the river bank."

"I figured you for a newbie. So, this is your first time at The Circle then, too."

"We were hoping to find the kid some new gear today." Chance said, and the boy turned to see both the taller blonde, and his more than recognizable companion.

"Shit, you know the Chief's son?"

Nick shrugged his shoulders, leaving that line of questioning alone. When he noticed another boy enter the circle, handing the proctor a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun for her to inspect. "Is that the entry fee? Something you own?"

"Exactly," Bren added, "the challenging bid has to be equal in value to the first bid."

"So," Chance placed a hand down on Nick's shoulder, "You want in or not? That 9mm would make a nice bid against that. And don't give me a look, I know it was a gift but I got faith in you."

Nick grimaced, but Chance didn't seem to mind it, and it was the only thing he had that he could bid. He wouldn't really want to wager his rifle if he had it, unless it was something really good and he felt the odds were in his favor. Still, it was a gift, and he'd feel shitty afterwards if he ended up losing it to some cocky brat.

Sighing to himself, he stepped from the throng and suddenly felt all eyes on him. Pulling the pistol from his waistband, he held it out for the proctor to take, totally unaware of the woman's sudden discomfort. The woman almost stuttered in hesitation, shaky gray eyes staring at the boy in wonder from behind those dark aviator shades.

She snatched the handgun from his hands in a flash of motion and checked it over; dumping the magazine, racking the slide clear of the chambered round, testing the safety and firing pin. Almost the exact same process with his opponents sawed-off. After her inspection was complete, she turned right around to place both items on a table by a chalkboard.

"Alex," said the boy across from him, and Nick watched as a man beside the proctor wrote it down on the board, before looking expectantly at him.

"Nick," he replied, his heart picking up pace just the slightest. With both their names on the board, the man began to strut across the Circle with a bucket and a notepad, allowing bets to be placed.

"I hope you're ready to lose that nice piece you got, runt." Nick just smiled at Alex's lame attempt to psyche him out. "The fuck are you smiling about, runt? You retarded or something?"

"I hope you're ready to be disappointed." Alex's face morphed into a nasty sneer, his hands balling into fists by his sides. Two can play at this game, Nick laughed to himself. "I bet you have that double barrel because you can't shoot worth shit. Probably shouldn't of wagered it."

Before anything more could be said between the two, the man had finished his rounds and the woman proctor took the space in the middle with hand held high. She glanced to her right at Alex, "I'm ready."

Then she looked at him, his heart beat picking up more as he bounced and shook out his arms, "Ready," he said.

The woman slashed her hand to the earth and sand, then quickly stepped back from the combat zone. Her agility had actually surprised him, and if he weren't still conscious of his current situation, he wouldn't have noticed that Alex had closed the distance rather quickly, and was launching a left hand his way. Leaning back, Nick safely dodged the jab, and was ready for the follow-up kick, cushioning the blow as he caught it in his stomach. "Fast," he grunted, then lifted the leg and forced the boy off balance, causing Alex to land on his back.

When Nick had the momentary advantage, he tried to capitalize by burying his foot underneath the boy's chin, but failed when the kid used the momentum of his fall to continue the roll out of danger and back onto his feet. Nick didn't hesitate and tried a two punch combo, Alex parrying the first but eating the second. Alex tried a wild haymaker, creating some distance as Nick stepped back away from it.

Wiping the blood from his lip, Alex spit some of the build up from his mouth and rushed him again. Alex threw a punch, then another and another. Quick, precise. It took all of Nick's focus to keep up with the jabs. Alex's fist streaked across his line of vision, stealing his attention, and was dazed when the other bounced off his jaw. The blow sent him to the sand but he caught himself before he could hit the ground flat.

Now, he was starting to get pissed off. Alex hadn't rushed him, allowing him to stand up unchallenged. He too, spit out the blood welling up inside his mouth. Sucking his teeth to clear as much of the coppery spittle as he could, he spit one more time aiming for Alex's feet. "Didn't rush me. . . big mistake."

Now it was his turn to press the attack. Alex was fast, but Nick knew he was faster. Getting in close, he ducked low under the first hook thrown by Alex and hit him in the ribs. Alex shot a downwards elbow, and missed when Nick danced around him to his open side. Again, he targeted the body with two vicious hits, and when Alex tried to shield himself, when nothing came, he fired a pair of retaliatory shots. Nick ducked and weaved around them, drawing Alex out; then his opponent slipped, trying too hard and threw himself off balance. 'When you're not punching, they're punching,' he could hear Fergus say, in the back of his mind. Nick altered his aim and focused on Alex's now open head. One solid hand collided, cranking his head back and he stumbled. A left-handed punch to the body doubled him over, and a nasty uppercut followed, finally toppling the boy over.

'Snap your punches, don't over commit. Only push through on a sure shot. Breathe out, explosive, when throwing your punches.' All those lessons, the beatings, this is what Fergus had made him into. 'Good breathing, good control. Good control and good footwork, balance, leads to good technique. Good technique, is where you get your power.'

And like that it was over. Nick was a little short for breath, but he was the one left standing. Alex was on his back, breathing heavy, but down and out. The fight, and the prize, were his. The proctor slowly glanced between him and Alex as she made her way over to him, her eyes lingering on him in what he could only imagine was curiosity. Taking his hand, she held it high. Those who had bet on him cheered him on as those that chose wrong grumbled out their frustrations. Glancing around he saw Chance, giving him a thumbs up. Even Bren was nodding his head in approval.

And in that moment, for the first time he could remember, he felt proud of himself.