Little Dead Monsters (8 page)

“Pleasure boss,” Dallas replied as he gripped the can by the handle and walked over to the screaming prisoner.

“God, don’t do this! Please don’t,” he pleaded.

“Sorry, I’m not god, and even then I’m pretty sure he’s not too fond of your kind either,” Dallas said as he started splashing the gasoline over the man.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” the man gasped in between sobs, but he was drowned out by the sloshing sounds of the gasoline thrown into his face. He spluttered and spat out the liquid from his mouth.

When Dallas was finished, Ryker reached into his pockets and pulled out a lighter.

“So Dog, this is my second gift for you tonight,” Ryker said. “I will give you the freedom of choice. You can decide whether this man lives or dies. What will it be? Thumbs up or thumbs down?”

The man was reduced to an oily slobbering mess and Dog closed his eyes and tried to drown out the screams. He thought long and hard before replying to Ryker.

“If I told you to let the guy live, would you listen to me anyway?” he asked.

“I’m a man of my word,” Ryker said.

And with those words, Dog made his decision. “Burn him.”

Ryker howled and raised his hands to the star-filled sky. “Our champion has spoken. Thumbs down it is.” Ryker flicked open the cap of the lighter, ignited it with his thumb, and tossed it at the gasoline-drenched man who screamed as if he were possessed.

“Ever watch a man burn?” Ryker asked. Dog shook his head and watched as the flames danced to the chorus of the pedophile’s inhumane shrieking.

“It’s quite gruesome. Their skin blisters and bursts just before it melts off,” Ryker said. “It was disturbing the first time I saw it, but now, I find it quite entrancing.”

Dog felt the heat from the fire and watched as the sizzling embers floated upwards into the sky. 

Chapter Fifteen.

As Ryker’s champion, Dog fought again and he won his match in mere seconds. The following week was more of the same. It almost became a routine for Dog: eat, sleep, train, and fight.

Dog was no longer the thin, malnourished boy when he first entered into the Arena. One of the perks of being champion was having an adequate amount of food to eat and because of this, in combination with intense weight training, Dog had become a powerful physical specimen. 

With Garret’s training and Dog’s unwavering focus during his matches, Dog was a force in the Arena and an adequate replacement for Tiberius as Ryker’s prized fighter. In fact, Ryker was so pleased with Dog’s performance that he gave him Tiberius’s old quarters; a private room that separated him from the rest of the prisoners. Dog now had the privilege of a soft bed with pillows and blankets and a functional toilet. It reminded him of a local jail he had been tossed into overnight once. Even though the room was quite cramped, it was still luxurious compared to the tiny cage he slept in before.

The first thing Dog did was hang the picture of the smiling moon that Jacob drew for him. He spent countless hours staring at it while reliving old buried memories.

One of the guards, a short and rat-faced mouthy know-it-all nicknamed
Chatterbox
, had commented on how stupid and juvenile the picture looked but soon retracted his statement when Dog openly challenged him to a fight in the Arena. Even the guards were afraid of him.

As Dog’s victories piled up, Ryker began displaying his winning streak on a giant board at the entranceway of the Arena for everyone to see. Dog heard Ryker refer to it as strategic marketing but Dog shrugged at the entire concept. All he knew was that every time that he killed someone, those numbers turned.

Dog watched every week as the numbers climbed steadily into the late teens, and then into the twenties, and then the thirties.

It seemed like only yesterday since Dog’s first fight, but two painfully long years had now passed with Dog as champion and he collected his fair share of victories, dead bodies, and ghosts while Ryker made a fortune.

During these two years, Dog had also watched Allegra develop into a beautiful woman. Her body had matured, which stirred something inside of Dog.

At first he didn’t know what the feeling was, but with every passing glance and every word she said to him, he felt his stomach turn and his thought completely evaporate into mist. Why did he feel this way about her? For the longest time in his life, he was emotionless to everyone and everything. So why now? Was it because she genuinely seemed to care about him? Was it because she was nurturing and saw Dog as a human when everyone else saw him as a killing machine? He felt this way only once before, but that was ages ago, in another life almost.

Dog began harbouring strong desires for her, which he did his best to suppress. He also found himself growing more nervous when she spoke to him and the words that came out of his mouth lacked confidence and consisted of longwinded nonsense. He found it absurd that one of the few things that frightened him these days was having a simple conversation with Allegra, given the fact that he faced his potential death week in and week out. He smiled at the thought. A pretty face was far more dangerous and terrifying than a sword any day of the week.

The guards noticed Allegra’s beauty even more now. They often licked their lips as they looked at her and made crude gestures. It made Dog want to tear their eyes out.

It seemed like Dog only saw Allegra after the fights, when she came and cleaned off the blood and took him to see Jacob. As brief as their conversations were, Dog looked forward to them. It shamed him though that the only time they ever saw each other was after he had someone else’s blood on his hands. He could always tell that the blood disturbed her, but she did her best to hide that fact when she spoke to him. However the distaste in her eyes was louder than words could ever be.

That was the trade off in this place; a moment of happiness for Dog in return for a piece of his soul.

On some nights, Dog lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling thinking of Allegra and the mask of perpetual sadness she wore and he wondered if she would ever be happy again.

Chapter Sixteen.

By Dog’s fortieth match, Ryker seemed to have grown bored of his supremacy in combat.

“The same damn thing again,” he complained. “Where’s the competition?”

Dog had just finished another fight in a matter of minutes.

“Where’s the showmanship this Arena needs?” Ryker cursed.

Tiberius stood by the Goblin’s side like a faithful hound to his master. “He brings in the crowd,” Tiberius said. “People come to see him dominate his opponents. You should be happy at the attention the Arena’s been getting. Everyone wants to be a part of this.”

“Yes, people pay to see him win, but that’s a problem. There’s never a threat of him losing,” Ryker said. “Which means
I’m
losing a fortune on the odds. No one wants to bet against him. It’s not gambling when you can predict the outcome every single damn time.”

Allegra stood in the corner and kept her mouth shut as Ryker’s words tore at her. She felt her stomach turn when she realized what Ryker was implying. The Goblin was dissatisfied with Dog’s fights. He was doing
too
good of a job at winning.

It was only a matter of time before Ryker decided to make things more interesting. Such efforts always involved some terrifying or sadistic twist thrust upon the participants.

Ryker once had the arms of two boys dislocated just before their bout. The match lasted almost an hour and ended when both competitors could no longer continue on account of the pain. Ryker thought it was hilarious and congratulated them on delivering such a comedic battle. As a reward, he had them fight Tiberius immediately which in itself was a death sentence.

In another example of one of Ryker’s special twists, he had broken glass scattered all over the ring and made the slaves battle in bare feet. One of the boys bled to death after puncturing an artery.

Ryker sneered as the crowd gave Dog his ovation after another easy victory. “Listen to them. These idiots are easily entertained by this. They’ve forgotten what the true spirit of combat is. They’ve forgotten about the drama.”

Tiberius shrugged his shoulders. “He fights to survive, just like the other slaves. It’s no different than my battles. I fought to stay alive as well, though for different reasons.”

Ryker stood from his seat and clasped his hands together to plead his case. “Your fights were legendary. You gave them the thrills and excitement that made this Arena addicting in the first place. Every match I watched, you hooked me in and didn’t let go until it was all over. I remember feeling exhausted after watching you, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was so…satisfying.”

“I didn’t intend it to be that way,” Tiberius said.

Ryker disagreed. “Stop being so modest,” he said. “You could have destroyed all your opponents as easily as Dog. You held back. You understood the sport and realized the importance of showmanship.”

Tiberius made no effort to reply.

“I’m going to need to think of something to spice up Dog’s fights. I’ll put on a real show for everyone to see,” Ryker plotted.

For the next four fights, Ryker sent two boys into the pit with Dog but he came out of the Arena victorious, leaving more bodies in his wake.

It was Tiberius who pointed out that sending in multiple fighters was not the most cost effective plan for the Arena and Ryker surprisingly agreed. But Allegra knew Ryker would need to find a way to keep the stakes high somehow. Dog’s dominance was a threat to the Arena’s profits which didn’t sit well with its master.

For Dog’s fiftieth match, Ryker decided to do something special, something the Arena had never seen before. He decided to chemically induce one of the boys in order to make him more aggressive.

Ryker chose a tall bony kid with narrow eyes and curly blonde hair, and christened him with the name Tweak. The drugs made him snarl and twitch. When he was set lose on Dog, the kid fought like a wolf possessed. He clawed at Dog with hands like talons that narrowly missed the tips of Dog’s corneas.

Dog seemed surprised by Tweak’s speed and hesitated before attacking. He was clearly beginning to doubt himself. Meanwhile Tweak continued to press his attack without worry. His lack of fear made him unhinged and unpredictable.

Tweak lunged at Dog and successfully tackled him onto the ground, despite being the smaller of the two. It took all of Dog’s strength to pry him off but freedom lasted only seconds as Tweak collapsed onto him again, thrashing wildly at Dog’s bare chest.

It was a rare sight to have Dog hurt during a fight and the crowd loved it. It was something different.

Seeing his own blood sparked something in Dog and he used it to fuel his next move. Dog pushed Tweak off him and counter attacked without hesitation. He manhandled Tweak to the ground with pure brute strength and held him down by the wrists, ignoring Tweak’s failed attempts to bite him. All it took was one well-placed head-butt from Dog to knock Tweak out.

The match was over.

“Kill him,” Ryker ordered from his pavilion. Dog stared at the unconscious boy and then shook his head.

“The match is finished. He can’t defend himself,” Dog shouted. “I won’t do it.”

Ryker bared his teeth. “Kill him,” he repeated but Dog refused once again.

“No. Do your own dirty work.”

“I will kill you both.” Ryker screeched above the shouting from the crowd.

“No you won’t,” Dog said. “I’m your champion.”

Ryker slammed his fist against the balcony railing and watched as Dog turned his back on him and headed towards the iron gates.

Dog had just defied Ryker. No one ever did that here, especially not in the public eye. The Arena just witnessed a slave scorn his master and it made Ryker look weak. This worried Allegra. The Goblin was a petty man and he wasn’t going to let this go easily.

Gunfire erupted in the pit as Tweak was shredded by the bullets. With all the drugs that Ryker pumped into him, did Tweak even know where he was before he died? Perhaps it was best he didn’t. It seemed more humane that way.  

Chapter Seventeen.

That night Dog had a visitor in his room, and surprisingly, it wasn’t the ghosts of the dead.

“You made a fool out of me in the Arena,” Ryker spat as he paced around the narrow confines of Dog’s private room.

Tiberius stood by the door with arms folded across his chest. He watched them like a stone gargoyle watching over a restless city, silent and unmoving.

“I’ve given your life purpose and meaning,” Ryker said. “Instead of eating the unwanted leftovers from trashcans, you eat hot food from my plate. You no longer sleep in cardboard boxes or bus shelters. I’ve given you a warm bed with blankets. Tell me, before I came along, when was the last time you slept in one? Hell I even allowed you to step foot into my house.”

Dog kept silent and allowed Ryker to continue his rant.

“I saved you and this is how you repay me?” he seethed.

“I guess I should thank you for giving me the chance to get killed by someone new every week,” Dog said.

“Don’t give me that,” Ryker said. “You very well know you always come out on top. All those other slaves you fight in the pit, they’re all squishy to you. You probably have more trouble falling asleep than fighting those kids. I gave each one of them the same opportunity I gave you, but they all threw it away by dying.”

“What’s your point,” Dog said. He was doing his best to hide his raw emotions, but he was never good at putting on a fake face. His anger was probably as transparent as polished glass.

“Are you that stupid that you don’t realize what I’ve given you?” Ryker questioned. “Tiberius learned to embrace my generosity and look at what he’s become.”

“He’s become your bitch,” Dog replied.

Tiberius let out a hardy laugh, taking Dog’s insult in good humour. However Ryker didn’t find it as funny. He pulled out a pistol from his jacket pocket and pointed it at Dog’s head with a steady arm.

“I could kill you right now,” Ryker said. “Every single aspect of your useless life belongs to me. You do well to remember that. If I tell you to wipe my ass, you ask me with which hand.”

Without hesitation, Dog took a step forward towards the barrel of the gun.

“Do it,” he said.

“You must have a death wish,” Ryker said as he cocked the pistol and pressed the cold metal against Dog’s forehead.

“Do it,” Dog repeated. “And then next week you can explain to everyone why the champion they’ve paid good money to see will never fight again.”

Ryker snarled and pressed his index finger against the trigger. With even a gentle squeeze, the gun threatened to put a hole right through Dog’s head, but Dog didn’t care. He stood his ground and looked at Ryker, ambivalent to the pistol pressed up against his cranium.

“What are you afraid of?” Dog asked. “Do it.”

It was Tiberius who finally came between them. He pushed Dog back with a slight hand and looked Ryker in the eyes.

“I think he gets the message,” Tiberius said. “Come on Ryker, let’s go before you make him piss his pants. We don’t need that.”

Ryker nodded and lowered the pistol. “The Arena it is. This little winning streak of yours won’t last forever. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I can’t wait,” Dog said.

Ryker spat a thick gelatinous glob of phlegm into Dog’s face, which he wiped unprovoked. Ryker seemed to think it was funny and he howled and pointed a bony finger at Dog before finally  leaving.

Dog returned to his bed and sat there and waited as he usually did after a fight. But tonight, Tweak’s ghost didn’t come, and Dog was able to sleep, and dream.