to call out for his wife, but he didn’t want to either alert potential attackers or wake his friends. He stopped for a moment, looking down at the sleeping forms of Darius, John, and Amanda, and wondered, in the space of a day, how one could consider anyone friends.
He wandered a bit, looking for his wife, keeping quiet and trying not to step on the hundreds of sleeping people, the few torches scattered about tied to the rocks jutting from the floor his only light. He found her, along with the girl Mia, standing near the cook fires, her arm stretched out and holding a half eaten apple. Block stood in front of her, his arm extended, and Steven couldn’t tell if he was taking or giving the apple.
“What’s going on here?” Steven demanded, finding a voice he didn’t actually know he had. “Rebecca?”
She turned to him, the hint of a smile fading, replaced by a look of surprise, “Steven? You should be sleeping.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“I…” she stammered. “He wanted to take this apple I found.”
His wife never stammered. Rebecca just didn’t. She was as self confident and assertive as most men. The big Samoan and apparent leader of the Cave looked confused, staring back and forth between Steven and his wife. Steven wasn’t sure, but he thought she winked at him.
“Give me that goddamn apple, bitch. You know I get mine first.”
She handed the rotted apple over dutifully, a properly shameful look on her face, and again Steven wondered what had happened to his wife. She was never dutiful—she had an independent streak as wide as the continental United States, a fierceness in everything she did, and yet here she was, bowing down to the biggest bully on the block.
“Leave her alone.”
“What are you going to do about it, little man?” Block asked mockingly.
Steven, of course, wasn’t going to do anything about it. Even telling the big Samoan to leave her alone had gone against every cowardly fiber of his being. Instead of escalating the confrontation, he took his wife by the arm and started to lead her away, but Block stepped in front of him.
“You really have no idea, do you?” Block asked. Steven was perplexed. The man’s tone wasn’t hostile, only curious.
“I don’t want any trouble.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about…” Block started to say, but was interrupted by Darius and John joining the fray.
“Leave them both alone,” Darius ordered. “They’ve done nothing to you and the man says he doesn’t want any trouble.”
Block turned to him. “And I suppose you’ll do something about it?”
Darius was quick, much quicker than a man of his size should be, and snatched the apple from Block’s hand. When Block tried to retaliate, balling a fist and driving it towards the black man’s head, he easily stepped to the side, took his shoulder, and used the Samoan’s momentum to fling him forward. Block landed face first on the mud-covered stone floor. He got up quickly, fury on his face, and rushed Darius again. The big man sidestepped him once more, this time tripping the Samoan, who came crashing down once more.
“I’m going to kill you,” Block told him from the floor, anger blazing in his eyes. “We’re going to meet in The Game and I’m going to kill you.”
“I doubt that,” Darius told him. “You’re big and strong, yeah, but you’re not coordinated. You don’t have any speed. That and you’re full of shit.”
Block’s men, armed with the glass and aluminum-can tipped spears, finally roused and stepped to their leader’s side, spears thrust towards the newcomers.
“I could kill you now,” Block said.
“I don’t think so,” John, seemingly emboldened by Darius’ strength, said. “It would be a rule violation as far as I see. You were, after all, the attacker.”
“He took the apple,” Block said, his voice teetering on screaming. “Stealing is a capital offense. You don’t
He wandered a bit, looking for his wife, keeping quiet and trying not to step on the hundreds of sleeping people, the few torches scattered about tied to the rocks jutting from the floor his only light. He found her, along with the girl Mia, standing near the cook fires, her arm stretched out and holding a half eaten apple. Block stood in front of her, his arm extended, and Steven couldn’t tell if he was taking or giving the apple.
“What’s going on here?” Steven demanded, finding a voice he didn’t actually know he had. “Rebecca?”
She turned to him, the hint of a smile fading, replaced by a look of surprise, “Steven? You should be sleeping.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“I…” she stammered. “He wanted to take this apple I found.”
His wife never stammered. Rebecca just didn’t. She was as self confident and assertive as most men. The big Samoan and apparent leader of the Cave looked confused, staring back and forth between Steven and his wife. Steven wasn’t sure, but he thought she winked at him.
“Give me that goddamn apple, bitch. You know I get mine first.”
She handed the rotted apple over dutifully, a properly shameful look on her face, and again Steven wondered what had happened to his wife. She was never dutiful—she had an independent streak as wide as the continental United States, a fierceness in everything she did, and yet here she was, bowing down to the biggest bully on the block.
“Leave her alone.”
“What are you going to do about it, little man?” Block asked mockingly.
Steven, of course, wasn’t going to do anything about it. Even telling the big Samoan to leave her alone had gone against every cowardly fiber of his being. Instead of escalating the confrontation, he took his wife by the arm and started to lead her away, but Block stepped in front of him.
“You really have no idea, do you?” Block asked. Steven was perplexed. The man’s tone wasn’t hostile, only curious.
“I don’t want any trouble.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about…” Block started to say, but was interrupted by Darius and John joining the fray.
“Leave them both alone,” Darius ordered. “They’ve done nothing to you and the man says he doesn’t want any trouble.”
Block turned to him. “And I suppose you’ll do something about it?”
Darius was quick, much quicker than a man of his size should be, and snatched the apple from Block’s hand. When Block tried to retaliate, balling a fist and driving it towards the black man’s head, he easily stepped to the side, took his shoulder, and used the Samoan’s momentum to fling him forward. Block landed face first on the mud-covered stone floor. He got up quickly, fury on his face, and rushed Darius again. The big man sidestepped him once more, this time tripping the Samoan, who came crashing down once more.
“I’m going to kill you,” Block told him from the floor, anger blazing in his eyes. “We’re going to meet in The Game and I’m going to kill you.”
“I doubt that,” Darius told him. “You’re big and strong, yeah, but you’re not coordinated. You don’t have any speed. That and you’re full of shit.”
Block’s men, armed with the glass and aluminum-can tipped spears, finally roused and stepped to their leader’s side, spears thrust towards the newcomers.
“I could kill you now,” Block said.
“I don’t think so,” John, seemingly emboldened by Darius’ strength, said. “It would be a rule violation as far as I see. You were, after all, the attacker.”
“He took the apple,” Block said, his voice teetering on screaming. “Stealing is a capital offense. You don’t
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