Yesterday…
A solid left jab, and a thundering right cross put the tall Texan on his back.
Out cold the cowboy didn’t move, and Ramm turned away, massaging his scraped knuckles.
He was ringed by dozens of men and women, all of them whooping and hollering at his victory, some of them casting insults at the downed man.
‘Your quick win means nothing.’ The Bishop was sitting in a throne-like chair bolted on the flat bed of a stripped down pickup truck. The large man pointed down at the pole-axed Texan. ‘For all I can tell that useless piece of crap has a glass jaw. You’re going to have to show me a little more before you’re allowed to stay here.’
Ramm looked up at The Bishop lording over the combat arena and gave a slight shrug. ‘So send in your best man.’
‘That would be me,’ The Bishop stated with no trace of irony. ‘But it would not serve me to beat you down, would it? What would that prove when I could take on any other man here as easily?’
‘So who is your second best? Send him.’
A stir went through the crowd. Men and women began glancing at each other, weighing and assessing. Some of them began slapping their chests, offering to fight. Others turned on their neighbours and began pushing and shoving, challenging the others claim to being the toughest. The Bishop stood up out of his chair, lifting massive arms in the air as if he was about to offer a sermon. But his name, as Ramm recalled, had nothing to do with religion. ‘Quiet down, goddamnit! The next man to open his trap will find he won’t be able to shut it again when I tear the jaw from his face!’
Standing in jeans, boots and wife-beater undershirt, Ramm shook off his shoulders as he waited.
The Bishop scanned the crowd. ‘Where’s Hector Buntz?’
A fresh stir went through the crowd, and heads turned as a figure began pushing his way to the forefront. Everyone had fallen silent at mention of the name, and Ramm realised that it was through awe. Even before Hector made it through the assembly he towered head and shoulders over the less than diminutive fighters in his way. Ramm was a big man, but even he had to tilt his gaze upward to meet Hector’s gaze. Buntz was a giant. He stood six feet nine inches, but he was no glandular freak but a man proportioned for his height. His shoulders were huge, his arms bulging with muscle, and he could have propped a barstool on his chest muscles without it toppling over. He wasn’t fat the way many big men were: his waist was tight, his hips and legs were lean. Buntz was no brute, but a hard trained warrior.
The Bishop regarded Ramm. ‘You still wish entrance to my group?’
‘Who’s your third best man?’ Ramm said. But he delivered it with a grin to show he was joking. ‘If Hector here is your test for affiliation, then I accept.’
‘Don’t let it be said that you were forced into fighting. You can always get back on the bus with the other no-hopers.’ The Bishop jerked his head to the battered old bus on which Ramm and another twelve hopefuls had entered the compound. Of that baker’s dozen only another two men had won their fights and now stood in the members’ crowd. Apart from the sleeping Texan, the others had been carried back and dumped on the bus, some of them unconscious, some of them destined for the hospital.
‘I only purchased a one way ticket,’ Ramm said.
‘It’s settled then.’ The Bishop eyed Hector. ‘Don’t hurt him too bad, Buntz. He’ll be little use to us with a crushed spine.’
‘What about his arms and legs?’ Hector rumbled.
‘They’ll heal,’ The Bishop said, offering his seal of approval for extreme violence with a wink.
Ramm moved back a few feet as Buntz entered the fighting circle. The giant towered over him, and was almost as wide again. Ramm’s eyes pinched as he assessed his opponent. Even a monster like Buntz would have weaknesses. He just couldn’t tell what they were yet.
Buntz shook off his shoulders and began a lateral sidestep, proving nimble on his feet for one so huge. Ramm didn’t move. His sidestep was a feint. Buntz smiled and moved the other way. Ramm turned with him, keeping his left side to the giant.
Suddenly Buntz lunged in, his left arm jack hammering at Ramm’s head. Ramm slipped the punch, and dug his knuckles deep into the man’s exposed ribs. It was like punching a drum, and his punch had little effect.
Buntz laughed, and the crowd grew vocal again, encouraging their champion to smash Ramm into the earth.
They moved in trading blows, kicks, punches, and once a headbutt from Buntz that left Ramm reeling. He had to rally with a flurry of punches to keep the giant from pulverizing him. He finished with a kick to Buntz’s stomach, and a right cross to the jaw that sounded like a mallet striking a coconut.
Both combatants danced away from each other. Ramm shook his right hand, and saw Buntz take note.
Buntz came at him again. This time his jab was followed by an uppercut that deliberately fell short, just as he powered in an overhand left. The punch struck Ramm on his forehead, almost breaking his neck as the kinetic force drove down towards his shoulders. Sparks popped behind Ramm’s eyelids, but in reaction he flicked out his right boot and caught the giant’s leading knee. Buntz stumbled, and Ramm forced himself to use the pain to power his return strike. His right elbow slammed into the giant’s gut, the point driving in deep. Ramm immediately pivoted a half-turn and used the same elbow in a rising strike to Buntz’s jaw. Ordinarily the combination of moves would have stopped a normal man. But Ramm was forced to reassess his earlier opinion of Buntz. He was a hard trained warrior, but he was also a brute. Buntz barely registered the jaw breaking strike as he pounded his fists into Ramm’s body, both punches lifting him off his feet. Ramm went down.
Buntz didn’t allow any respite. He swung a kick into Ramm’s gut, and Ramm was forced a full yard across the dirt.
The crowd cheered wildly.
Ramm shook his head as he came up off the floor. He stood with his legs splayed, body slightly forward as he fought the crippling pain in his belly. He could barely breathe, let alone fight.
Or that’s the image he portrayed.
As Buntz came forward, Ramm sprang in the air, cocking his right arm behind his ear. As he hit the apex of his leap and began his descent, he whipped down with his bent elbow, and its point found the bridge of Buntz’s nose. The cartilage collapsed and blood flowed over the big man’s top lip.
Ramm landed on his feet to the side of the giant, forcing Buntz to turn towards him. There was a glaze over the man’s eyes, but Ramm trusted that Buntz’s recovery time was ever bit as freakish as his build. The giant blinked a couple of times.
‘First blood,’ Ramm said.
‘I drink blood for breakfast,’ replied Buntz. ‘And eat the hearts of men for lunch.’
‘And no doubt you suck the marrow from their bones for dinner.’
‘No usually I have fried chicken with biscuits and gravy.’
The giant laughed, and despite himself Ramm kind of liked the guy’s sense of humour. Still, it wouldn’t stop him hurting the giant to save his own skin. Buntz reached for him and Ramm leaned aside, snapping in a sidekick at Buntz’s knee.
Buntz braced his leg against the impact, but Ramm had been faking. He re-chambered his knee, changed its trajectory and slammed his boot into the man’s throat. As he dropped back to his feet Ramm powered in two rapid elbow strikes to Buntz’s ribs. That should have dropped him.
It didn’t.
Buntz enveloped Ramm with both arms and hauled him skyward. Ramm felt weightless as the giant heaved him overhead and held him suspended in the air. The experience lasted only as long as it took for Buntz to hurl him through space. The only thing that saved Ramm a crushing landing on the hard earth was that he landed in among the crowd of bystanders. He tumbled down and momentarily lay stunned. A couple of those in the crowd weren’t mindful of where they placed their feet and Ramm was stood on more than once while he blinked up into the angry faces of those he’d had the temerity to land on.