“How will I know if you did it?”
“Easy. You won’t die, and neither will I. Come at me again now—fast!” Mike yelled.
The brother did as he was told. Mike turned, putting him face down into the dirt with three quick but soft hits to the ribs.
“I’m going to let you up, but the next one is it,” Mike told him. “Now, take my leg when I come in again.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said the brother.
“When I put it out in front, grab it and put me on the ground.”
Mike stood up, pumping his fist in the air. Only the guards chanted.
“That’s good,” said Mike. “Only a few are okay with me killing you. The rest just may be on your side, after all. Now take it!” he said, stepping one leg close enough to be caught.
He took it, knocking Mike back onto the ground to cheers from the crowd.
“There they are. Those are your people… It’s time,” he added, circling his opponent and taking his back in a chokehold.
“Here we go,” said Mike. “Do just as I say. Claw at my hands, and kick your legs… Good! Another thirty seconds and I want you to go limp, like the dead. I mean, don’t move after that for anything.”
“Okay, I hope this works.”
“It’s our only shot. Just wait for my move and you will know as soon as I do if it worked. Slow your kicks and drop your hands. Wait…wait…now. Good. Now, on my mark, no more kicks… And now.”
Mike slowly lowered him to the ground, holding him for another minute to complete the performance. He got up slowly, pretending to be fatigued and stumbled back up the embankment towards the top. He hoped one of the brothers would be there to talk to him, but it was two guards.
“Good fight,” said the first one, with his rifle trained on him.
“Thanks. Are you Military?” asked Mike, sizing up his chances of taking the man’s rifle before being cuffed again.
“Nope,” said the guard. “I sold insurance a few weeks ago, and now I’m security. Hands behind your back.”
“Really?” Mike replied, without complying. “How about you?” he asked the other.
“Same here. Larkin and Larkin, your insurance specialists for auto, home, boats and bikes. You may have heard our commercials.”
“So, you’re brothers?” asked Mike.
“Yep. Sure are. Twins, to be exact—not identical of course.”
“I had one of those—a twin named Arthur. I feel like he’s with me right now, you know what I mean? I would do anything for him…anything.”
“Please put your hands behind your back,” the command was repeated.
Mike reached into his pocket for the knife he was surprised nobody had checked him for. He unlatched the small sheath with his thumb.
“Hands behind your back now!”
“Oh, sure thing, brother,” Mike replied, palming the three-inch blade. “Which Larkin are you?” he asked one of the twins.
“Oh, I’m Dave, and this here is...”
“Shut up, Dave,” his brother spat and took his eyes off Mike for a split second. Mike almost smiled as he grabbed his rifle and had the blade to his throat in two seconds.
“That just might be a record, Mr. Larkin. What do you think, Dave?”
“Uh…well… What do I do, Stanley?”
“Well now, Dave and Stanley Larkin. As I said before, I’m a twin but mine is dead. Would you like to be a twin, Dave, with no brother?”
“No! No, I would not.”
“Cuff Stanley’s hands behind his back right after you drop the rifle.”
“I’m not sure we’re supposed to...”
“Do it, you idiot!” yelled Stanley.
“He’s not very nice,” Mike said. “Are you sure you want to save him, Dave? I’ve been in the pit; one more guy makes no difference at all.”
“Yes, please don’t hurt him. I’ll do what you ask.”
“Good choice. Lay your rifle at my feet, zip tie his hands tight like mine were, and then go get the man in the pit.”
“But he’s dead! I can’t carry a dead man!”
“Is he? Tell him to meet us at his brothers’ tents. Now go!”
Mike watched as the crowd around them, of mostly men and children, began to scatter.
“Now,” said Mike. “Take me to the head guys—the other brothers.”
* * * *
Putting his blade back in his pocket, he led the man at gunpoint to the camp center.
“Where is it? Where are they?” Mike commanded.
“There, in those three tents over there,” Stanley replied with a nod, appearing a bit more cooperative than before.
“Who’s the lead?”
“I guess they all are,” he replied. “Everyone except the guy you were fighting.”
“This one,” Mike pointed to open the door as Stanley stepped inside the half-open front flap. Mike pushed his man through it, catching the first Gatelin brother off guard.
“What the hell?” he said, quickly realizing the situation.
“I got tired of the pit is all and figured I’d see what kind of man puts his brother in a dirty hole to fight a guy like me. You don’t seem too busted up about it.”
“No, I’m not,” he said, regaining his confidence. “He was always weak, that one.”
His two guards reached for their weapons, fumbling in their drunken stupor.
“Not quick enough, gentlemen,” said Mike, shoving Stanley towards them and putting the same blade to the brother’s neck. Mike could smell the whisky on their breath from where he stood. “Good whisky is to be sipped slowly after a win or a hard day, but it looks like you guys started a bit early today. I’ve got a rifle,” he continued. “Two, but any sudden moves and this knife will take a life. ‘Up close and personal,’ as they say.”
His man struggled against him in an apparent attempt at perceived defiance.
“You really should hold still,” said Mike nicking his neck with the sharp blade, drawing a trickle of blood down onto his shoulder.
The two women sitting on the far bench yelled at him. “You’re an animal; let
