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Gecko from Purgatory
Chapter 18: The Champion

Chapter 18: The Champion

“It's Mad Max versus Vicious Vic before a sellout crowd!” I am sitting on my butt on the carpet in front of the TV. Max stands facing me, wearing his Captain America t-shirt and shorts. I throw out a claw hand that strikes him high in the chest, wriggling my fingertips so it tickles. “Vicious Vic wastes no time throwing a deadly eagle claw!”

Max sinks his chest in and giggles. His pudgy hands swipe at mine as I do the voices narrating our professional wrestling match. Batting his hands aside, I bend and drape him over my shoulder. I lift up his chubby legs and switch them so he's resting over the other shoulder, and he looks like someone being carried out of a burning building by a fireman. “Vicious Vic goes for the shoulder throw!”

“I tell you, Bob, if the kid is lucky, he'll black out when he's slammed to the mat, because otherwise the pain is unbearable.”

I flip Max over my shoulder, carefully dumping him onto the couch behind me, and he laughs. I slip a forearm under his bare legs, then another forearm over the top of his shins. I clench my hands together and assume a posture of someone fervently praying, only I've locked both of Max's little legs.

“Oh my gosh! Vicious Vic has cinched in a prayer hold!”

“Which means the kid doesn't have a prayer, ha ha ha.”

I let go of his legs as he's lying on the couch and seize one foot by the ankle. With my right hand I throw mock punches into the sole of his foot. Max kicks off my hand with his free foot, so I seize that ankle and throw pretend elbows into the sole of his foot.

“Good escape, but frankly, Steve, I don't know how the kid is still conscious at this point.”

Releasing his foot, I throw a claw hand under his shirt and begin tickling his belly, which is the product of milk, chicken nuggets, and juice boxes.

“For the love of God! Not the Burmese Belly Ripper!”

“Good thing there are ambulances standing by, Steve. At this point they know enough to go straight to the emergency room.”

“That was last month, Bob. Now they just head straight for the morgue.”

Max laughs and twists from side to side, pushing down my clawing, tickling hand with both of his. He is tan like his mother, and his curly hair is draped over the couch.

I grab his foot and throw several mock kicks into my cheek.

“OH MY GOSH! Nobody expected that comeback!”

Reeling from Max's kicks, I grab his wrists and have to form his little fingers into fists before he gets the idea. Holding his wrists, I throw a barrage of punches at my mouth, nose, and forehead.

“Nobody thought the toddler could survive this long, but in a miracle he's turned it around!”

“Vicious Vic is on the ropes! And there aren't even any ropes!”

I pick him up under the armpit and hold his other knee, then send him flying through the air in slow motion, bending his leg back so the knee lands on my temple.

“A FLYING KNEE! In my 77 years ringside at the octagon, I've never seen anything like it!”

“Vicious Vic goes down! Who saw that coming?”

I tumble to the floor and lie on the carpet, looking up at Max, who is peering over the edge of the couch with a mischievous grin.

“Oh no! Not the Pile Driver!”

“It's been banned in all 50 states...”

“And Guam.”

“Unfortunately for Vicious Vic, we're in Puerto Rico.”

Max jumps from the couch, landing with both feet on my stomach. I roll over onto my chest as Max walks all over my back.

“He's won it! The kid has won it! He's got the belt and a lifetime supply of ice cream sandwiches!”

I pick up Max and carry him into the kitchen. I stand him in a chair and raise his hands up in triumph.

“I make a halo halo,” Juvy announces. She brings over two bowls with shaved ice and bits of fruit, corn, and even beans, little chewy balls like tapioca, coconut meat, and the whole thing is drenched in condensed milk. It's a Filipino treat, perfect for an August day.

“Thanks, beautiful,” I tell Juvy as she returns to get her bowl. She is beautiful, with tan skin and wavy black hair. She's slim, with a captivating smile, and I like the sight of her legs like brown sugar, displayed to best advantage by a pair of shorts.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

There's a woman outside, wearing a dress, high heels, and hoop earrings. It's Keisha! No, Max and Juvy can't see her! I wave frantically, trying to catch her attention, but she comes up to the kitchen window and presses her face up to the glass, shading her head with both hands. I'm waving her away, but she won't leave. Juvy and Max haven't noticed her.

“Go away!” I mouth the words, afraid to speak. “Get the hell out!”

* * *

The transparent lids covering my eyes snap open. I'm lying in the crevice in the wall of the box canyon. Get the hell out—easier said than done. I'm on another planet, maybe even in another time, but I can't escape the house at 3829 N. Worthington. It was just yesterday that I had an emerald and a ruby in my mouth and spat them out. “Lord, I pray that Max and Juvy are okay and happy.”

Judging by the light outside, it's nearly sundown, time for us to be on the move. I slither out of my niche and climb hand over foot up the smooth sandstone, until I slide over the edge of the cliff and see the cave where Liana and Taur have holed up for the day.

Before we rested, we ate. I caught several small lizards, two scorpions, and the eggs from a hawk's nest, while Liana and Taur hunted rock lizards. When the lizards ran into crevices they puffed up their bodies to wedge themselves in, but Taur and the albino girl used sharp sticks to deflate the lizards and drag them out to be roasted.

I rise up on my legs and enter the cave. Liana is there, but Taur is returning from outside.

“Let's go,” I tell them.

“Your wounds are completely healed,” the girl says as she studies my snout and walks behind my back to examine the spear wounds on my side and tail.

“Thanks to God the Healer.” The clear lids slide over my eyes for a moment of prayer.

“We're going to the city, but we don't have any money.” Liana reaches up and tries to adjust the twigs in her hair, but they are broken. “If we're going to take passage on a ship, we're going to need money.”

I don't have clothes, and Taur is wearing only a loincloth. Liana wears the same ragged dress. We look at each other and it's obvious that none of us has even the smallest coin.

In a moment I have the answer. “The gold of the wicked will not profit them, but will feed and clothe the righteous.”

Liana looks at me quizzically.

“What does that mean?” Taur asks, cocking his horns to one side.

“There was an army drowned in the canyon behind us.” I gesture with my snout to the canyon below. “There has to be a ton of salvageable goods, from swords, to spears, saddles, boots. We can sell them or exchange them for what we need.”

I climb down, taking Liana first, then Taur, and I'm glad that I'm rested and fed after hauling the big man down the cliff. The canyon floor is covered with a layer of grimy silt, but it's easy to spy swords, spears, a saddle, a single boot, and hats with muddy plumes. Anything made of leather or fabric is damaged, but I've picked up two swords and fastened them to my waist with a muddy leather belt, which I figure only has to last long enough to get me to the town. Taur gets two sabers and stuffs his belt with two field knives and a dagger. He's picked over the spears until he found the best one.

Liana wanders over the canyon floor in her bare feet, and points below her. “Dig here.”

I raise my stubby hands to Taur, and it's clear to him that he has to be the one to dig. He kneels down at the spot and digs through the mud he hits something. When he hauls it up, it looks like a lump of mud, but as his grimy fingers brush the mud away, he pulls open what might be a velvet bag, and hauls out a silver coin that glistens in his filthy hand.

“The bag is full!” Taur shakes the bag so we hear the coins jangling. He hands the purse to Liana and rises.

The three of us begin the hike back through the gorge, which is covered with a thin layer of mud over the sandstone, which makes footing slippery and treacherous.

“How did you get the horns?” I ask Taur as we march.

“I was born with them.” He starts to slip, but uses the butt end of the spear like a walking staff to catch himself. “Well just stubs at first, but as I grew they grew, and became horns. You can't imagine the teasing, the ridicule, so I was filled with rage. I fought every day. It got to the point where instead of waiting for them to mock me, I attacked them first. That was my attitude, attack everyone before they had a chance to say a word.”

Liana slips, and I catch her.

“I was kicked out of school, and I couldn't get work.” Taur turns at the fork in the trail and we head in the direction of the harbor city Ankla. “I thought, 'I have horns; I'm meant to serve Baal.' When I served in the temple, for the first time in my life I felt respected. I was where I should be. I was a bull man in the temple of the bull god, so people worshiped me. I was hearing a voice which grew louder.”

Taur reaches up and touches the scar on the center of his bald head. “When I had the ring put into my nose, and the tattoo stitched onto my head, the voice drowned out mine. The years are a blur, a fog of the dram, but there are images I'm glad I can't see clearly, images of violence and depravity.”

“When you gave in to rage, you created an opening,” I tell the horned man as we wind through the dunes, and even in the night time it is still hot. “I'll bet you were willing to make a deal—any deal—to get back at everyone, and the demon took over.”

We hike along the trail, and I'm thinking it would be nice to have the wagon we ditched yesterday.

“I'm sorry about burning you, Taur.” I feel lousy now that I see the scar on his skull and the scars covering his body. Now I understand what the scripture means when it says,

Fight not against the man, but against the shadow controlling him

In the noonday sun he is free, but as the daylight wanes his shadow lengthens

and he is a slave to his shade, even in the palace.

I was fighting the demon, and wanted nothing more than to kill him, but I couldn't see the person who was trapped inside. In Taur's desire to lash out at everyone tormenting him for being an oddity, the “daylight waned,” meaning that his reason and will grew weak.

“It's all right. The fire was painful, but it helped me to realize what's important, and I'm free.”

I'm stunned by what he says, and stop in my tracks. In a moment I recover and hurry to rejoin them. “You don't know how true that is. I know exactly what you're saying.”

He looks at me with doubt in his eyes, but he doesn't know I was at least nominally human, and suffered in the flames of purgatory.

* * *

For two more days we continue our hike, hunting and eating before bedtime at sunup, and emerging from shelter to hike during the night.

“Hold it,” Liana says, holding up a pale hand. “We're at the outskirts of the city.”

“How do you know?” Taur asks, and he speaks for me, because neither of us can see beyond a rock wall in front of us.

Liana waves us forward. Taur and I round a bend and see a crudely lettered sign. “WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE. 500 Sovereigns.”

On the sign there is a drawing of a lizard standing upright.