W.A.R.S. Tournament Ch. 03

He made his way over the piles to check on the guy he saw get shot. He was gone, liquid shells shredded him. He watched the windows and door and crept forward. This guy couldn't have been standing here shooting if there were others in the building. They would have shot him long before he could have opened the door and taken that first guy out. He eased through the door hoping he was right. He pressed his back against the wall and slunk along it to his left. Max heard a blast! From across the building a red ball flew in his direction. He dove to his left and raced down the wall. The ball hit and knocked him another twenty feet. There was a bathroom in the corner, he dove into it; he needed a bathroom just now. What the hell was that?! There was a door in the bathroom that led out into the yard. He hurried through it just as another blast went off. The bathroom exploded in flames. What the hell was that?! Max headed for the piles between the buildings. Someone had found some nasty weapon. Max tried to catch his breath but he was afraid he didn't have time. He couldn't quit asking the same question, what had the army come up with this time? He had never heard of anything that would do what he just witnessed. He just wished he wasn't the target. He said goodbye to Gina in his mind and heart.

Max was on the wrong end of the buildings to get back into the first building quickly. He raced around it and made it back into the smaller building where he had first entered the arena. Why wasn't that weapon repeating blasts quickly? A red ball hit the side of the building, the explosion knocked Max across the room; it dented the building! The whole wall was caved in! He expected the next one to melt the building completely. He left out the door on the opposite side. Why hadn't this guy fired again? The next blast knocked the windows out and dented the opposite side of the building from the first blast.

Max decided this device had to charge or it took some time to reload or something. He worked his way around the buildings. He saw a guy rushing toward the building carrying...Max didn't know what that was. He jerked his sniper's rifle to his shoulder and took aim on the moving target. He led him and squeezed off a round. He lowered the rifle to see the guy go tumbling head over heels. He was still alive, Max let go with two Ultras when he got in range. Max's adrenaline was running high. He didn't quit firing until both guns were empty. Then a guy raced toward him firing from about thirty feet away. Plastic rounds pounded into Max's vest, he raised his other two Ultras and let loose. The guy froze in his tracks surprised that Max had another gun. He tried to turn and go back the way he had come but Max took him out. Max studied himself for wounds. The shells had all impacted on his vest, no damage done. He grabbed this new weapon and headed back to his sniper's nest. There couldn't be too many people left now.

When he got back to the room under the hole in the wall he studied this new contraption. It was some sort of battery operated gun that fired some weird projectile. It was about four feet long and about eight inches in diameter. He studied the trigger mechanism, he thought he knew how to fire it. Max saw the results of its power, but he had no idea what it was. There was a 'ready' light blinking on the side. He found a switch and turned the thing off, he might need it later and he didn't want to fry himself right now. It made a strange buzzing sound as it shut down. He noticed a 'charging' light beside the other light. He also found a delay dial. You could set a delay and have the thing go off up to two minute after you pulled the trigger. Max was wishing he had time to test this thing, there was no writing on it. He didn't know how much battery it had left. He was pretty sure that it had to recharge between blasts. Where had this thing been? Were there others like it in here? Why had it taken so long to get it into action? Once again Max had more questions than he did answers. He took it and climbed back into the ceiling and looked out the hole. He didn't see anyone following him. Someone was alive in here with him though! He prayed for the siren to sound.

Max woke early the next morning to see the barrier sitting just a few feet from the double open doors. He could see the red glow coming in through a few holes in the other end of the building. They were trapped in this one building, whoever they were. Max knew he was one of them, how many others he didn't know. Every step could easily be his last. He sunk back down beneath the hole to plan his strategy. He only had part of a clip left, his rifle and this new gun, if you could call it a gun. First order of business was to find some more shells if he could. As the sun came up and illuminated the inside of the building he studied it to see if he had missed something earlier.

He noticed that on top of the office where he had found the tape there was now a blue container. Had it been there before? There was a ladder attached to the building beside the office, he could get up. He spotted another container sitting in the double doors. Now that one wasn't there the day before. They must have re-supplied the place when they brought in the barriers. He could wait and try to pick off guys with his rifle or try to make it to more ammo. He sat back and thought things through. If he got to a point that he needed his Ultras he wanted them fully loaded and ready to go. He decided to try and make it to the containers. If he went down the stairs he would be the full length of the building away from the double doors. But if he went out the catwalk he could traverse the building on the roof and hopefully be out of sight of any shooters. He thought of one more trick. How long would it take him to get down the catwalk and the ladder on the other end of the building? He gave himself two minutes to be sure.

He taped this new gun to the metal structure of the ceiling in the room with the broken window. He aimed it roughly at the door leading to the stairs. He turned it on, the buzzing sound told him it was going, that and the fact that the 'charging' light began to flash. The 'ready' light came on in about five minutes. He turned the dial to two minutes and pulled the trigger. He was out the door and heading down the hall toward the catwalk. He was sure anyone inside could hear him running across the roof but that was something he would just have to deal with if trouble came up. He hurried down the ladder and dropped the last seven feet to the ground. The barrier was just behind him about eight feet away, not much room for error.

He eased to the double doors and waited for the fun to start. He didn't have to wait long. When he heard the blast he raced to the container and dragged it outside on the opposite side of the doors. The inside of the building erupted into flames. He heard gunshots from at least two different sources. He hoped they were shooting at each other. He didn't see anyone moving. The gunfire continued. He yanked the container around the corner and tossed the lid away, it hit the barrier and made a loud buzz and pop as it disintegrated. Whoever restocked them last night must have been reading Max's mail. The container was full of ready clips. He popped the old clips out and slapped four new ones in. He stuffed his vest and pockets full of clips. He headed to the door down the side where he had first entered the building when this bout began. The wall around the door to the stairs was black and still smoking. The two others inside were busy shooting at each other, at least Max made out two, he hoped that's all there were. He eased back up the stairs stopping halfway up and surveying the floor. He saw one guy huddled behind a stack of boxes just about where the woman and her killer had landed. He was firing in the general direction of the office. Then he saw the other guy move behind the crates where Max had made his first sniper kill. What should he do?

He returned to the taped gun and aimed it toward the crates. He looked out the window to the floor below. There was a chain hanging from the offshoot rail to the floor. The other man was just below him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He set the timer dial for thirty seconds and got ready. As he climbed out the window rounds strafed the building beside him. The man behind the crates had spotted him, thank goodness he wasn't a very good shot. Why didn't that damn gun go off. Its amazing how long thirty seconds is when you're being fired at. The fireball shot out the window just as Max dropped onto the chain, he could feel the heat of the blast as it roared toward the crates. Once again, he didn't have to be accurate, just close. He couldn't wait to see the results or he would give the guy below him too much time to react. He slid down the chain Ultras blasting. He was firing two of them raining shells into the floor. Plastic rained back up toward him. He heard the guy at the crates screaming and the guy below him was rolling in the floor and firing back up at Max. Max's thigh exploded in pain as the bullets hit. The floor beneath the guy turned red. There wasn't much left of him when Max hit the floor. He took aim for the guy but he was barely breathing, the Ultra in his hand was firing air. His finger was locked on the trigger but he was out of shells. Max looked to the crates; they were ablaze. A burning figure was dragging itself out of the flames screaming. Max couldn't take it. He limped to the guy and fired a bullet into the back of his head. Murder, execution or self-defense? Max studied his own wounds; plastic shards riddled his pants. His thigh was in bad shape. Max returned to the other guy. He was still breathing but there wasn't much left of him. Max knelt down to his side and took his head in his hands. Max was covered in the guy's blood up to his elbows but he couldn't let him die without trying to comfort him in some small way.

"Good idea," the man coughed, blood gurgled out of his mouth as he looked up at Max with dying eyes.

"Sorry man, its kill or be killed, but you got me good," Max told him pressing his hand over his own wounds.

"Yeah...(cough, cough)...looks like you kill...and I'm killed," he said closing his eyes. Max didn't have the tears to cry. He pulled the guy's head to his chest.

The siren sounded! Three tournaments down...

The barriers shut down and an ambulance was brought in through the double doors to load Max and take him to a nearby hospital for emergency treatment. He was loosing blood fast and getting drowsier by the minute. They rushed him into the OR and started in on him...

...Delores Atkins and a handful of reporters were guided through the warehouse complex where the last tournament in this area had taken place just two days ago. She couldn't believe the destruction and blood stains all over the place. She hoped and prayed that Max had not been here. She asked the official guiding them the person's name who had won. She was taking notes for her article.

"Um, let's see?" he said looking at his notes. "A Max Fallon won."

Gina's heart stopped! But at least he had won which meant he was more than likely alive.

"Where is he, can we interview him?" Delores asked trying to act nonchalant.

"Sorry, no interviews allowed, not until someone finishes all five tournaments, then you get your interviews," he told the group. "Besides Mr. Fallon has been relocated to a military facility unknown to us. He is quite a celebrity, he just won his third tournament. He's only the second one to do that, no one has won four yet. From what I heard about this fight he may not fare too well in the next one," he added.

What the hell did that mean! Fear gripped Gina's heart. What had happened to Max, was he ok? Was he so messed up that he wouldn't be able to fight in the next tournament effectively and be killed early in it? What?! Gina continued with the tour. She searched the place for some sign of Max. She knew he had been here and she longed to touch him again. She couldn't find anything. She picked up a shell casing left at the scene and put it in her purse. She wrote her story that night with tears in her eyes. No winners were ever named in the publications but Tracy would have to edit Max's name out of Gina's story, she had to see it in writing. Touching him in her mind...

...Max woke up in pain. He screamed and a nurse came into the room to check him out, two guards escorting her. He had been so drugged he had been out for almost twenty-four hours. She gave him a shot and soon the medicine took effect and he was once more resting peacefully. He wouldn't regain full consciousness for another day. When he did come too he looked out the window to see mountains. Mountains, he thought? There weren't any mountains where he had been. He rang the buzzer for the nurse. An older woman came in with two guards at her elbows.

"Well, welcome back to the living," she said, taking his wrist and checking his pulse.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"We're not suppose to tell you anything but you aren't in Kansas anymore," she said, smiling at him.

"Was I ever in Kansas?" he asked confused.

"I don't know where you were but you are here now and we have specific orders not to tell you anything. Are you hungry?" she asked, letting go of his wrist.

"Yes I am, starving," he told her.

Max shifted in the bed; pain shot through his leg like fire. He grimaced and lifted the covers to look at his wounds. He was bandaged from the hip down to his knee. He had several other superficial bandages. He lay back and closed his eyes. The nurse and her escort returned with his meal and left him alone. He ate and tried to make sense of the last several days.

They had him up walking in two days. The doctors told him he wouldn't be going anywhere for awhile. That suited him. He was never attended alone. The nurses had guards; the doctors had guards. No one entered his room without a guard. The guards had guards. Max felt like he was living in a glass bubble and in a way he was. He just hoped his bubble didn't burst.

They started rehabbing his leg during his second week in the hospital; guards were with him there also. His therapist was a nice enough young lady, Liz Hill. Max tried to be friendly with her but she was all business. In his third week of rehab she was starting to warm up to him but she was still too serious to get much out of. Then one day she surprised the hell out of him. She intentionally caused him to stumble so she could grab him around the waist. She slipped something off of her clipboard and stuck it into the waistband of his pajamas and whispered "read this" and helped him back up. When he got back to his room he pulled a pamphlet and a letter out of his pjs.

The letter was an article talking about Max that some reporter had written. The by line read Delores Atkins. It was hailing Max as a growing hero on the world horizon even though it didn't mention his name. Pro sports had become so deluded with wealth that no one paid a lot of attention anymore but these tournaments were all the rage. The whole world appeared to be watching. She went on to describe the televising of future tournaments. All the bugs had been worked out and the right palms greased to get it off the ground. Liz had scribbled something on the bottom. 'You are bugged everywhere you go, everywhere. Flush these when you get through, please.' Max looked around his room suspiciously; he didn't doubt it a bit.

The pamphlet was on several new weapons the military was developing. Where had Liz gotten this stuff? He read on. It described a new 'plasma' rifle that fired bursts that exploded into flames on contact. Max had seen this one. It told about a smaller version that was just finished that would be easier to conceal, they didn't do as much damage as the larger one but it would do enough. Max couldn't wait to see this one. He read on about a new grenade launcher. One trigger would fire the grenades, exploding them into a ball of molten lead shrapnel on contact. The other trigger exploded the grenade inside the barrel and fired it out in pieces of one-inch hot lead shot. That should take out an army coming at you Max thought. He hoped he didn't see this one. He read about the new Ultras and the liquid shells. It sounded like the pamphlet copied what he had told the authorities about them and it probably did.

When Max got to rehab the next day he thanked Liz and she went on like nothing had been done. She didn't even acknowledge that he had spoken to her. No matter her motivation for helping him he was thankful. When he finished his normal exercises Liz told him he would be starting whirlpool treatment this morning. She led him to the whirlpool room and handed him a swimsuit and showed him the dressing room. He came back in a few minutes and climbed into the water. It was hot, especially on his wounded thigh but he eased down into it one inch at a time. Soon he was fully submerged letting the healing waters swirl around his aching leg. When Liz came to get him out she leaned over the metal tub to check his leg. She whispered quietly, "You're welcome." She wanted to be friendly but apparently orders had been handed down for everyone to keep quiet where Max was concerned. She took the chance now to say her peace with the water roaring, hopefully covering up any sounds they might make.

Then she really blew Max's mind. She gave his penis a squeeze and whispered, "Capt. Reed says hello." She winked at him quickly. Max almost jumped out to the tub at her touch. He asked her if Ali was here; she shook her head no and went about getting him out. She handed him a towel, she didn't even try to smile. He could see the smile in her eyes now but she didn't let on that anything had happened. About that time a doctor and two guards shot through the door.

"Hill!" He yelled.

"Yes sir!" She answered snapping to attention.

"You should have been out of here twenty minutes ago." He went on.

"Yes sir, the scabs seemed to be releasing and I wanted to give them a couple of more minutes to soak sir." She replied.

The doctor took a look at his leg and told her to carry on. He asked why she hadn't brought guards in here with her. She told him she was acting out of habit and had never needed guards in here before and had forgotten the orders but it wouldn't happen again. He left but the guards stayed. Everything she could say to Max had been said. She did inform him that she would be up to see him later in the day for another session of exercises. She left the room. The guards watched as Max returned to the dressing room and got dressed. They led him back to his room; lunch had just arrived.

True to her word, Hill showed up around three in the afternoon, a guard at each elbow. She took him through a series of leg lifts and knee bends without getting him up. The next three weeks were spent repeating this treatment, an hour each morning in therapy and an hour each afternoon in his room. There was never a chance for them to talk. Liz would wink from time to time and touch his leg more like a lover than a therapist but they never got the chance to be alone. She would brush her body against him sometimes. He loved it; he was getting back to his old self.

Max was coming to the end of his second month of rehab. He was feeling great and almost had full mobility of his leg. Liz knew he would be leaving soon. She didn't see any chance of getting any friendlier with Max. She was getting bolder when touching him but tried hard to make it look like work related interaction. One of his last days she was in his room working on his thigh. She bent his knee up to his chest and slipped her left hand under the sheet and caressed his balls. He closed his eyes feigning pain for the guards' benefit.