The Wonder Of Love
Prologue
I wipe the blood from in front of my good eye and look at my opponent. She still looks magnificent and beautiful despite being so beat up. On the best day of my life, I didn’t look as stunning as she does right now, and that’s after I’ve done my dead level best to clean her clock.
She’s almost twenty feet away and moving toward me again. Can’t get away from her. Can’t move fast enough. Can’t run, can’t even crawl away. Have to face her one more time.
The tall brunette’s left arm is hanging at a strange angle below her elbow. Must be where I broke it. I think that surprised her.
She’s limping badly as she edges closer. Why is she limping? Oh, yeah, I remember now, I tore the ligaments in her right knee with a really good side kick, maybe even cracked a tibia in that leg. Broke her nose with an elbow strike, too, and bit a couple of holes through one earlobe. Grabbed that big mane of hair and put a knee into her cheek, may have broken it. I got one real good kick in on her crotch and another on the inside of her upper thigh. Her left side below her rib cage is a nasty reddish hue. I can’t see the bruises on her back, but I know I put some there. I think I bruised a kidney or two. And both of her eyes are blackened and bruised.
She’s about ready to drop dead and she still looks better than I ever did. Crap.
Of course, I’m not much better off, assuming I am better off, which I’m not too sure of at the moment. My right shoulder feels dislocated, but it doesn’t matter because I’m sure my right hand is broken. I’m pretty sure my left ankle is broken, too. At least two ribs low on my left side are busted and I’ve lost three or four teeth. My right eye is swollen shut and I can’t breathe through my nose. The pain of the air rushing past my broken teeth is setting off electric air-raid sirens in my head every time I inhale.
On top of that, I’ve got friction burns all over from falling and sliding and skidding on the burning sand. Fighting naked on a beach under a broiling hot sun is no fun at all, even if all those other women are watching and cheering us on. Are they cheering for her or for me? Or are they just hoping for more blood? I can’t tell what they’re saying, and it bugs me.
Of course, fighting to the death is the real bummer. I’m supposed to kill her, but I don’t remember why. I don’t want to kill her – at least, I don’t think I do. Surely I’d recall something like that. Maybe I have a concussion along with all my other little boo-boos.
I don’t remember a lot right now, but I know I surprised her when I started hitting her at will. She’s strong, way stronger than me, and she hits like a pile driver with an attitude problem, but she has very little real fighting skill. I doubt if she knows anything about blocking or deflecting. She hasn’t done a very good job of doing that, at least not against me.
Of course, I haven’t blocked all of her blows, either. If I had, I wouldn’t be in the shape I’m in.
What was I talking about? Oh, yeah, the fight.
I guess I must have a concussion, a pretty serious one, too. Can’t remember where I am. Not sure how I got here. But I know this woman wants to kill me, even though I don’t remember why. Has something to do with – with a man. But what man? Did I do something to him? Or to her? Who pooped on her oatmeal anyway?
“Ish ta – ” She stops and spits out a mouthful of bright red blood and almost falls over. Then she straightens and stands tall, panting with the effort. “It’s time for one of us to die now, Lois,” she growls. “May Hera gar – grant that it be – be you.”
Her voice used to be almost musical. I don’t know why I remember that, except maybe because it doesn’t sound musical now. It’s wet and gruff and snarly and hard to understand. But I grasp her meaning well enough.
I try to answer, but my mouth won’t form the words. I’m not even sure what to say to her. I wonder what Miss Manners has to say about a situation like this?
Huh. Thinking of Miss Manners at a time like this. That’s funny.
I kind of gargle out a laugh and she stops for a moment. Her eyes change, and for the first time I can tell that she’s not sure she can beat me. Even if I don’t survive this fight, that look on her face is a victory for me.
Given the choice, though, I’d rather live through the fight.
She’s moving closer again. Coming in for the killing blow. I don’t want to die. I don’t remember why she wants to kill me. But I know that if I don’t kill her, she’ll kill me. I don’t have a choice. Or maybe I already made my choice and can’t remember making it. Either way, I have to keep going.
I can see the red liquid welling out of her where I raked my nails across her breasts and cut her pretty deep. I remember that she really didn’t like that. She’s bleeding from her nose and a cut on her scalp along with that bunch of scratches on her chest and belly, too, but she’s not losing enough blood to make her stop. And I don’t know if I can still fight her.
But I have to try. Have to. Don’t want – don’t – what’s his name? Right, I got it. Don’t want Clark to find out I quit on this fight. Want to make him proud of me. Want him to remember me as a fighter, not a quitter.
Master Whatsisname wouldn’t want me to quit, either, but I’m not real worried about his opinion of me right now.
I grab my useless right arm with my left to hold it still as I roll away from her. I manage to ignore the hot shooting pain in my ankle and my shoulder as I slowly stand up. I feel clumsy as a newborn fawn. And I’m not much stronger, either. My vision keeps tilting, too. Can’t have that. Could be fatal.
Have to focus. Have to focus. Ignore the pain. There is no pain. Focus.
I twist my right foot into the sand to brace myself. She hobbles closer and draws back her one good fist for a final blow. I lift my left arm to block it and try to prepare a counter-punch with that same arm. Aim for her eye again. It’s nice and tender and swollen, ought to bleed pretty good. Knock her off balance, or whack her in the side of her throat if I can’t reach her eye. Knock her down, put her on her back on the sand and – and –
And – and I don’t know what comes next. I just know that she’s going to kill me if I don’t fight back.
She’s shuffling around me now, angling for my right side, the side where my eye is swollen shut and I can’t see her, the side I can’t defend. If she gets over there I’ll never block her punch. Have to turn to face her, keep moving, don’t fall, keep her in front of me so I can –
Here it comes –
