Read Online Strike by D J MacHale - Free Book Online

the good it did. The guy blasted right into him, stuck his head into Kent’s chest and knocked him back off of his feet. Kent hit the ground hard, flat on his back, grunting from the impact.
    The guy went right for his throat. He wrapped his hands around Kent’s neck and started to squeeze.
    Kent’s adrenaline must have finally kicked in because he grabbed the guy’s hands, but rather than pry them off, he kicked his legs up and back, flipping the guy over his head. The dark-haired prisoner hadn’t expected that and landed on his back.
    “Bravo!” Bova shouted, clapping his hands with delight.
    The Retro guards cheered and whistled like it was some MMA event, not a battle to the death. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they had put bets down on who they thought would walk away alive.
    None of the prisoner spectators reacted. They seemed as horrified at the scene as I was . . . or maybe they were also imagining what it would be like if they were the ones who had to fight for their lives.
    Kent was now fully into the fight. He flipped over and jumped to his feet faster than his opponent, who was still struggling to catch his breath. I’d seen Kent hit ball carriers on the football field. He was fearless and fast. I willed him to drive into this guy and take him down like he did so many running backs. He charged at the squat guy and hit him just as he was standing up and turning around. The guy didn’t have time to brace himself. Kent got low and drove his shoulder into his chest. I heard the man grunt at the moment of impact.
    Kent kept driving his legs, pushing the guy backward until he hit the grill of the jeep to my right. There was a sickening thud and another sharp groan of pain when his body made contact.
    The guards in the jeep didn’t so much as flinch. They’d seen fights like this before.
    Kent leaned back, pulled his opponent up by the front of his coveralls with one hand, and nailed him with a punch that snapped the guy’s head to the side.
    That woke his opponent up. He threw a punch at Kent, but held back before connecting. It was a fake.
    Kent threw up an unnecessary block. That gave the guy the opening he needed to deliver the real blow. He used his foot to sweep out Kent’s legs and sent my friend crashing to the sand. The guy looked as though he had some martial arts training. Before Kent hit the ground, he was already throwing controlled kicks to his head and chest.
    Kent landed flat on his stomach and threw his arms up to try to ward off the vicious blows. It was no use; he was losing. In desperation, he crawled for the jeep he was lying next to and scrambled underneath, while being continually kicked.
    “Please! No hiding!” Bova called out, taunting.
    Kent wasn’t hiding. He didn’t stop under the jeep but kept crawling until he came out the other side.
    His opponent rounded the jeep to try to get there before Kent could stand up.
    Too late. Kent leapt up, grabbed the hood of the jeep and launched himself feet first at the attacker. His timing was perfect. He caught the guy in the gut with both heels, sending him tumbling backward while pinwheeling his arms in a desperate attempt to stay on his feet. He failed and hit the ground, again.
    I expected and hoped that Kent would take advantage and jump on the guy, but he was exhausted. After getting kicked multiple times, he couldn’t catch his breath. He had to hold onto the side of the jeep to keep from falling over as he gasped for air.
    His opponent wasn’t in any better shape. He lay flat on his back with his chest heaving.
    Both of them were exhausted and probably badly injured.
    “Good show!” Bova exclaimed. “I think we’re all ready for round two!”
    It was as if he expected the crowd to roar back their approval.
    For the record, they didn’t.
    “We don’t have to do this,” Kent’s opponent called to him, sucking wind.
    I was surprised to hear him say anything to Kent, let alone something that showed defiance to