Crown Vic to a Parallel World

17

Shadow Boxing

Room 604 was like a store-front karate dojo.  The space was deeper than it was wide and unevenly divided by a clear glass wall.  One-third of the space was an observation area for people to watch the sparring or training.  This third was plain white with blue chairs arranged in rows facing the glass.  The other two-thirds of the space, what I thought of as the dojo room, was also plain white, but this area sported a padded floor.

Against the far wall of the dojo were open-front, red-backed display cases that contained the widest array of weapons I’d ever seen.  Shining golden blades of every description twinkled like gems against the red fabric backing of the cases and added an air of richness to the businesslike black glass staffs and clubs.  There was even a big, double-bladed ax that looked like it came from a fantasy film with dwarfs and dragons.

Sitting in a chair by the door was a lean, small-framed, honey-blond man.  He had a close beard, twice as thick as a five-o’clock shadow, a thin face with a wide jaw, and cobalt-blue eyes.  He wore a navy-blue t-shirt and close-fitting black slacks.  He sat with his legs crossed like a man, the ankle of his right leg resting on the knee of his left.  He looked up from a glass tablet he’d been reading from when I entered the room.

He flashed a wide smile at me and spoke in a resonant baritone that was too big for his body.  “The Steward told me you were big, but I didn’t think something your size was even possible.”

He rose, set the tablet on a seat next to his, and offered his hand.  The man’s full height was five-foot-eight, or a little less, and his clothes were so neat, it looked like he’d been ironed into them.  On Earth, I would have judged him to be in his early-thirties.  I shook his hand and looked him over.

The first thing I noticed was the man had very hairy forearms.  The hair wasn’t bushy, but there was a lot of neat fine hair growing all in the same direction.  It was either very dark blond or very light brown and complimented his tan skin.  I wondered what the forearm hair meant for the rest of his body as I let my eyes wander to the man’s face.

His face was boyishly handsome, and his striking blue eyes twinkled with mischief.  My brain automatically fantasized about what he’d look like naked while the deliberate half of my intellect introduced me to him.  He gave me his name and leered like he’d read my mind.  “Bem Custos,” he said, “tell me, is everything proportional?”

He wrapped his right hand around his left arm just above the elbow and dangled the left forearm in a lewd gesture to represent an impossibly large manhood.  I felt myself turn red and tried to skip his comment.  “Nice to meet you.”  I offered.

Bem wasn’t so easily distracted.  “I figured we could romp later, but you’re not a romp, you’re more like a quest.  I’d need a compass and a map to find my way back.  Oooooohhh…maybe if I don’t come back, they’ll send a search party.  Then we could all be lost together.”  He ran an obscene tongue around his lips and an arm quick enough to be a striking snake whipped out and groped my crotch.

I took a big step back and stuck my hands up in case I’d need to fend him off.  “THAT’S ENOUGH!”  I shouted.

“OK,” he agreed with a sidewards tilt of his head, like a shrug that didn’t involve his shoulders.  His lusty expression didn’t change.  “I know you’re not from here and things are different back home, but I don’t know who you’re saving it for.  We might all be dead soon.”

“Can we get to why you’re here, please?”  I begged.

“Alright, Big Guy, we can be all business.”  Bem agreed with himself as a blank, stern look replaced the lusty one.  “I’m here to teach you to fight.  The first thing we need to do, is fight.  Then I’ll know what I’m working with.  That magic of yours is off limits.  Come here.”  He waved me to follow him to the glass wall and pointed to the other side.  “See that grey square in the middle of the ceiling?”

“Yeah.” I said when my eyes had followed his pointing finger to the square in question.  It was a dull grey panel about the size of a ceiling tile in the middle of the glowing light panel ceiling.

“When we fight, that will slide back to uncover a catalyst.  Any magic you try to use will be absorbed by that, so don’t bother to use any.”

I stepped back from the glass and objected to Bem’s caution.  “You don’t need that with me.  You say no magic, fine, no magic.”

“Ah,” his left hand reached up to knead his right shoulder, the arm made a ‘V’ across his body, and his right hand slipped into his pants’ pocket, “easy to say, but if you’re getting hit, who knows?  I’m not going to risk being vaporized by your white magic just because you say you won’t use it.  That’s like telling me your dog doesn’t bite.  You push anyone or anything hard enough, it will bite.”

I shrugged at him in defeat.  There was no arguing with that line of reasoning.  “Sure, whatever you say.”

“Got any experience?” Bem asked to get back to business.

I leaned my right shoulder against the glass and crossed my arms over my chest.  “No.  I’m a big guy with a big mouth.  Most people won’t fuck with me because I look like I could kill them.  I can usually shout down the ones that aren’t physically intimidated.”

“Never?”  He asked with disbelief evident in his tone.

I tried to explain how I’d gotten away without ever having to throw a punch. “I’ve thrown guys out of bars.  They get drunk and hit on the barmaid.  The barmaid gets uncomfortable and looks to the biggest guy for help.  That’s usually me.  I’ll grab ahold of a guy and heave him into the parking lot.  Usually, I’m too drunk to worry about them trying to fight back, and because I act like I don’t give a damn, they assume I can handle myself and they back off.”

Bem dropped his hand from his shoulder and it fell at his side like it was half of a broken rubber band that snapped back on itself.  “Blank slate, then.  Maybe that’s better.  We don’t have time to train you up right.  We’ll have to take whatever comes naturally and see if we can sharpen it.  Let’s go in and check your reflexes.  You try to land a hit on me.  I’ll see if I can dodge.  Take off your jacket and the shoes.”

I hung the jacket on the back of a chair and kicked off my heels.  As an afterthought, I grabbed the hair tie from my jacket pocket and used my reflection in the glass wall to tie my hair back in a loose ponytail.  I tried to tie it up tight, but my large hands, unpracticed to the task, refused to cooperate.  Bem seemed to approve of my preparations and led the way into the dojo room.

He touched a spot on the wall just inside the glass door and the grey panel in the ceiling slid open to expose a pink, diamond-shaped chunk of glass, about the size of my head.  I walked under it to get a closer look.  It started to glow, faintly at first, then steadily brighter.  “Do we have to wait for this thing to warm up before we start?”  I asked.

“What do you mean?”

I pointed at it.  “It’s getting brighter.  How bright does it need to be when it’s working?”

Bem came to look with me and didn’t like what he saw.  “It only does that when it’s absorbing magic.  Stop using your power.”

“I’m not using any.”  I protested.  We watched as the diamond got even brighter, bright enough to remind me of the catalyst that had exploded during the magic test.  I didn’t want to take any chances that history might repeat itself, especially as Shawn wasn’t around to pull the glass shards from my body again.  “We need to get away.”  I said and moved to the wall that held the weapons.

Bem followed and we both turned to see what was going to happen.  The diamond kept getting brighter until it glowed like the arc from an oxygen lance.  It started making a thin, metallic whine, almost like the sound a fluorescent tube makes when it’s trying to light but can’t.  A loud crack silenced the whine.  The diamond split and went dark.  Some pieces of glass fell on the padded floor.

Bem’s gaze stayed locked on the broken catalyst and he advanced toward it warily.  His voice sounded scared.  “What did you do?”

“I just stood under the goddamned thing!”  I half-shouted and waved a frustrated hand at the ceiling.  I was starting to feel like one of those comic-book characters that doesn’t mean any harm, but is too powerful for the world he finds himself in and becomes an unintentional villain.

“You mean your overflow did that?”  Bem asked me.  He stood just to the side of being directly below the catalyst and pointed up at it to emphasize his point.

I thought of Beni’s description of me as a bonfire of magic.  It seemed like it fit.  “I guess.  I sure as fuck didn’t do it on purpose.”

As I was already unsettled, and it was the worst possible moment to see Shawn again, Ars picked that instant to enter the observation room with Shawn in tow.  I dropped my face in my hands and swore at my palms.  “SHIT!”

“What’s wrong?”  Bem asked, his voice still shaky.

I dropped my hands from my face and waved them around.  “I’m too fucking big, I’m too fucking powerful.  Yesterday I scared a grown man at breakfast and a child at lunch.  I destroyed the magic tester thing, and him,” I pointed at Shawn, “he thinks I’m going to vaporize him on a whim.”

Bem came back to where I was.  He moved next to me and turned to face the Steward and his nephew.  He patted my lower back with a sympathetic hand.  “Don’t let it get you down.  I still want to romp with you.  Maybe even more, now.”  His patting hand grabbed a handful of my ass and squeezed.  I reacted like I’d been zapped with a cattle prod.  I rounded on Bem and was tempted to punch him for the grab, but his joke had made me feel a little better.

Bem moved to face me and bounced on his feet a little.  “I guess I’ll have to trust your self-control.” He said like everything that had just happened was no big deal. “Let’s clean up the glass and fight.”

That sounded like as good an idea as any.  I looked around for something like a dustpan and brush.  My construction experience served me well and reminded me that anything flat can be a dustpan.  I grabbed the double-bladed ax from the weapon rack and set the big blade on the padded floor next to the glass shards.

Bem took a plain white handkerchief from his back pocket and used it to brush the pieces onto the blade.  When he was done, he laid the hankie flat and used his hand to transfer the glass from the ax into the cloth so it could be safely folded inside.  He set the folded cloth onto the top ledge of the weapons case while I went to put the ax away.

I took a minute to inspect the thing before I put it back.  Up close, the weapon looked even more like it came from a medieval fantasy film.  It had a glass handle that was pointed on both ends and a curved gold metal blade, razor sharp and menacing.  The thing had to weigh at least fifty pounds.  Its size and weight made me think it was just a display piece.  If what Shawn said was true, about me being literally the biggest person on that world, I didn’t think there’d be anyone large enough or strong enough to wield the thing in any form of combat.

I leaned the ax back into its spot, but it didn’t want to seat all the way into the case.  I tried to force it but something that wasn’t obvious was keeping it from settling into its spot.  Because I was already on edge, the reluctant ax very quickly pissed me off to the point of saying, “fuck it.”

I jammed it in place as far as it would go and left it.  I didn’t think it would fall over.  It was blade-end-down anyway.  The handle stuck out about six inches from the top of the angled case, but it still leaned toward the wall.  I figured it was safe enough.

Bem brought us to the middle of the room, right under the burned-out catalyst, and squared off with me.  He raised his fists in a boxer’s stance, his right foot was a little in front of the left and set a little wider than his shoulders.  He laid down the ground rules for the match.  “In the beginning, I’m not going to hit you.  I’m just going to dodge.  As we go on, I’m going to turn the heat up, and keep turning it up until you hit me or give up.  When you land one, we’ll mix it up a little but I won’t make it harder.  Agreed?”

“Agreed.”  I nodded and set myself to match his stance as closely as I could.  I felt ridiculous.  Our size difference was so vast it was comic.  Not only was I a full head and shoulders taller than him, but I guessed I was at least twice his weight.  I knew he’d be quicker than me, but I had visions of knocking his head off if one of my hits really connected.

That thought concerned me enough that I asked about safety gear. “Shouldn’t we have gloves or something?”

Bem answered by teasing me. “You worried about bruising your delicate hands or about me beating you up?”

The little man’s teasing got my goat. “I’m not worried about much of anything.” I replied and firmed up my fighting stance. “Ready when you are.”

“Go.”  Bem said and started to bounce on his feet again.

Bem’s bounce was the first sign I was in trouble.  The padded floor barely compressed under the lean man’s light weight.  He looked like a sparrow, hopping in place.

I stepped into him and swung.  He saw it coming a mile away and was out of reach before I got my whole arm moving.  I remembered hearing guys I worked with, fans of boxing, talk about telegraphing hits.  I assumed I was doing that, but I didn’t know how not to do it.  ‘Crowd him.’ I thought.

I lunged for Bem and swung again.  He got away easily.  I figured the problem was the padded floor.  It obviously wasn’t designed for someone of my weight.  Every step I took was an effort, like walking in dry sand.  ‘Can’t take him with speed, try a change-up.’ I told myself.  I tried to fake him out by striking with my left.  It didn’t do any good.  The result was the same as before.  Bem dodged my fists like he was crossing the street ahead of slow-moving trucks.

I thought about trying to kick him, but my feet were so deep in the floor, I figured that he’d be away long before I could get them moving.  On top of all that, my balance was no good.  One of the many problems that comes with being a big guy, most big guys are top heavy.  I had to be extra careful with quick movements because if that weight started moving without having a foot in the right place, then down I’d go.  I tried to hit without lunging.  I thought maybe that would surprise Bem.  It didn’t.

It wasn’t long before he turned the heat up as promised.  He bounced in, punched my stomach, and bounced out.  He didn’t hit me hard, but hard enough for me to know I’d been hit.  I was mad for a second, then I had an idea.  ‘He’s got no reach.  When he moves in, clock him.’  It sounded like a great plan inside my head.  It wasn’t.

Bem bounced in, punched my guts again, and bounced out.  In a blink he was back in to punch my right side.  The side hit made me gasp.  I reached for him both times but my fists struck empty air.  I felt my anger building.  I knew that was no good, that it would ruin my judgement, but it was getting harder to reason with myself.  ‘Crowd him.’ I reminded me.

I tried a little footwork.  I pushed my weight onto the balls of my feet and jumped back and forth, swinging wildly to drive Bem into the back corner of the room.  He feinted to my right.  I leapt that way and stumbled.  Bem dodged out to my left.  I slammed my shoulder into the wall and staggered until I could get my feet under me.  The crash against the wall made me mad.  I saw red.  I rounded on the hopping sparrow and charged, head down, teeth clenched.

Bem stopped bouncing to wait for me.  “I GOT YOU!” I roared.  He stepped smoothly out of the way and punched the side of my face as I charged passed like a freight train on steel rails.

The hit scrambled my balance.  I stumbled again and ran into the opposite wall with the opposite shoulder.  I righted myself with effort.  I was breathing hard, the air rattled in my abused lungs as I gasped and sweated.  I knew my wind was no good, too many unfiltered cigarettes, weld fumes, and asbestos exposure.  There wasn’t anything I could do about that except try to end the fight quickly.  I gritted my teeth and squared off with my opponent.  Bem was fresh as a fabric-softener commercial.

I waited a minute to try to get my breath and noticed Shawn’s emotions.  He was worried.  I didn’t have any context for his worry.  I wondered if he worried about me, or worried I’d vaporize Bem.

I told myself that I wasn’t going to vaporize the little fuck until I managed to hit him.  I eyed the hopping sparrow.  ‘There must be a way.’ I thought.

“Are you even trying?” Bem taunted through a grin.

I could feel the ridges on my back teeth snap against each other like saw blades grinding together as I gnashed my teeth in anger at his teasing.  ‘Grab him.’ I told myself. ‘The next time he hits you, grab him and crush him.  He can’t hit if he can’t move.’

It was another stellar plan that wasn’t.  I stepped toward Bem, he bounced in, gave me one-two to the guts and punched my jaw from underneath.  The hits stole what was left of my breath and rattled my brains.  He didn’t let me recover.  He bounced in and hit me again while I was gasping.

I held my guts and staggered backward toward the corner of the room between the wall and the weapons.  Bem bounced around behind me and landed a couple shots to my back as insults.  I turned on unsteady feet.  We were almost hard into the corner of the room.  I saw an opportunity and thought I had Bem trapped.  I lunged, grabbed, missed, stumbled, and crashed into the weapons case.

I pushed myself off the wall and staggered backwards.  The ax that I hadn’t put all the way away fell at my feet.  The end of the pointed handle was wet with something red.  My labored breathing sounded worse than before.  I coughed and tasted blood.  Something warm was soaking my shirt.  I turned toward Bem.

He stopped bouncing and his fists fell to his sides.  An odd look crossed his face.  I tried to say that something was wrong, but the words wouldn’t come.  I coughed again.  My mouth filled with blood.

My body felt heavy.  I leaned against the plain wall and slid to a sitting position.  I heard rapid footsteps on the padded floor and suddenly Shawn was in front of me.  His face was drawn.  He knelt, straddling my lap, put his hands around my head, and knocked his forehead to mine.  Everything went black.