The Zero Game

Barry spun around just in time to hear the mop bucket slam into the wall. There was a sharp grinding of metal against concrete as she picked up one of the empty propane tanks. Barry assumed she was moving it to get to the door, but by the time he caught sight of her, he was surprised that the mass of her shadow wasn’t getting smaller. It was getting larger. She wasn’t running away. She was coming right at him.

“Take a good look at this one, asshole…” Viv shouted, swinging the propane tank with all her strength. She held tight as it collided with the side of Barry’s head. The sound alone was worth the impact – an unnatural pop, like an aluminum bat smacking a cantaloupe. Barry’s head jerked violently to the side, and his body quickly followed.

“Did you see that? That bright enough for you?” Viv shouted as Barry fell to the floor. She’d been picked on since the first day they moved into their house on the edge of the suburb. Finally, there was a benefit to all the fistfights.

He reached for her leg, but his world was already spinning. Viv dropped the propane tank on his chest. With the wind knocked out of him, he could barely move. “You really thought you had a chance?” she screamed as streams of spit flew from her mouth. “You can’t see! What’d you think – you could beat me because I’m a girl?!”

Looking up, Barry saw Viv’s long shadow standing over him. She lifted her foot over his head, ready to stomp down. It was the last thing Barry saw as the world went dark.

79

STUMBLING BACKWARD TOWARD the open hole at the end of the air tunnel, I don’t waste time trying to slow myself down. Using everything that’s left, I spin to the side and try to turn myself around.

By the time I can see the depth of the pit, I’m only a few steps from the rim. But at least I’m moving fast. My foot touches down on the edge of the hole, and I use the speed to take a huge diagonal leap to my right. Inertia carries me most of the way. I just barely clear the corner of the hole – which is good – but now I’m headed straight for a brick wall – which is bad.

Putting my palms out, I slam into the wall at full speed. My arms take most of the impact, but as my full weight hits, my elbow gives way. The pain’s too much. Janos tore it up pretty bad. Collapsing to the floor, I roll over onto my back, prop myself up on my good elbow, and glance over at the open pit. Stray pebbles and flecks of dirt tumble into the mouth of the hole. I listen to see how long it takes till they hit bottom, but before I realize what’s happening, there’s a tight tug on the front of my shirt. I look up just as Janos tries to yank me up.

In full panic and unable to fight, I scootch on my rear end, trying to crab-walk away. His grip’s too tight. Holding me with his left hand, he uses his right to backhand me across the forehead. Again, he knows exactly what he’s aiming for. His knuckle slices open my eyebrow. The blood comes fast, rushing down the side of my face and blinding me even worse than before. He’s trying to take the fight out of me, but as the impact knocks me back on my ass, I lash out with the only thing I’ve got left. Kicking upward and aiming between his legs, I plant the toe of my shoe deep into his testicles.

Janos grits his teeth to hide the grunt, but there’s no mistaking the damage. Bent over, he grabs tight at his crotch. More important, he finally lets go of my shirt. Scrambling backwards, all I need are a few seconds. But it’s still not enough. Before I can even get to my feet, Janos picks himself up and plows straight at me. From the look on his face, all I did was make him mad.

Behind me, I bump into the side of the air conditioner, which dead-ends perpendicular to the wall. I’m all out of running space.

“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him.

As always, he’s silent. His eyes tighten, and a thin sneer takes his lips. From here on in, he’s doing this for himself.

Gripping my ear, Janos squeezes hard and twists it back. I can’t help but lift my chin. He tightens his grip, and I’m staring at the ceiling. My neck’s completely exposed. Winding up for the final blow, he…

… snaps his head to the left and staggers off balance. A loud hollow thud echoes through the air. Something clipped him in the back of the head. The amazing part is, at the last second, he managed to roll with it – almost as if he sensed it was coming. Still, he was skunked pretty hard – and as he holds his head and lurches sideways toward the brick wall, I finally see what’s behind him. Gripping the nine iron I dropped earlier, Viv readies the club in perfect batting stance.

“Get the hell away from my friend,” she warns.

Janos looks over in disbelief. It doesn’t last long. As he locks on Viv, his forehead furrows and his fists constrict. If he’s in pain, he’s not showing it. Instead, it’s all rage. His eyes are black – two tiny pieces of charcoal in sunken sockets.