Love, Life and The Old Stench of Luck

3. Push-ups-2

Sabienn offered a concerned look towards Bray before looking back at the vertical course with its precarious hand and footholds. “If it wasn’t Deep doing this, I’d be concerned,” said Sabienn.

With a worried tone, Bray looked at the wall as he spoke, “You have a fifteen-metre-high wall with no safety harness and a ground that could break a neck. There are three lanes close together so interference will be expected. Plus, he has to keep fake ears on, or he’ll be shot.”

Sabienn replied quietly, “Like I said. A piece of cake.”

As he spoke, three men were led out to the arena to stand in front of their vertical obstacle course. They appeared as three muscular Turr men; one of them, with a green vest, could have been Deep’s twin if he had a biological Turr mother. The contestant was tall, had long black hair, was fit with a massive chest and displayed a magnificent pair of wings. He of course had the real Turr ears to set him apart from Deep.

The other two Turr men wore a red and white vest respectively and scratched incessantly as if their skin was crawling with fleas.

“Begin,” called the attendant to the side. Immediately upon the signal, the red and white scratchies started to move in and lay fists on the big man in green. Sabienn was stunned as he watched on.

The big man seemed to absorb their attack like a sponge and commenced a committed rebuttal. He grabbed the red vest and started pummelling his head keeping the white guy blindsided. Five good punches turned his opponent to acquiesce and drop into a defeated sack of red, red and red.

The white vest saw his chance and commenced climbing up the wall. He was deceptively quick and agile, taking the hand and footholds with ease.

As Sabienn watched the green man looking upwards, seeing his race get away from him, the broken and busted red guy on the ground made a lunge and grabbed the green man’s ankle. It took a few seconds to disentangle but those seconds were crucial. The white man was now well on his way upwards, grappling and pushing like a sweaty primate tree-swinger. Every effort that the green man made was unfortunate catch-up, but a valiant attempt was made to bridge the vertical gap. The white man climbed on to a high platform at the top and held his arms up to mark his victory.

“Good to see fair play prevails,” said Sabienn.

“I say, you’re harsh, sir,” said Jank pleasantly. He pointed to the white man on top still celebrating. “That man will win the tournament.”

“For this climbing thing?” asked Sabienn.

“His name is Sherez,” continued Jank. “It’s the least we can do for him. His father is called Baxteeb. He’s a Minister for Gaming and Recreation. His path is marked but he doesn’t know about it yet.”

Sabienn looked stunned towards Bray. Bray asked, “You do realize you are talking out loud.”

It was a brazen prediction of life and death for Sabienn too. “What about us?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” said Jank candidly.

They sat to see two more heats take place on the climbing wall, both without the pre-climb entertainment. The fourth heat was about to commence and Deep wearing a blue vest and shorts was led out among the group of three.

Sabienn’s eyes were now riveted on the field to see his tall and muscular brother standing straight and upright, making no moves to touch his ears. His Turr opponents were small in comparison, one wearing a yellow vest and the other black.

“Your brother’s in blue?” said Jank. “He’ll win.” His comment was definite. Sabienn and Bray looked enquiringly to Jank who continued, “Those two opponents are notorious. As long as they’re paid in food.”

“Is there any race here that’s not fixed?” called Bray in disgust.

“What’re you complaining about?” said Jank. “Your brother can still fall to his death.”

“If I swing an extra pig to the yellow and black dudes, maybe they can lay down like a cushion,” called Bray.

“It’d cost more than that,” said Jank without pause.

At the side of the group on the field, the race attendant called, “Begin.”

Without any further ado, Sabienn watched as Deep began his climb and effortlessly took the lead over his two rivals. Sabienn once again marvelled at his brother’s physical prowess. He was such a huge and fit unit and his muscles stood out from his glistening skin like well-formed hills and ravines. Even without a harness, Deep was sure footed and lifted himself quickly with his big arms. It was poetry in physical excellence to watch the winged man move upward like a shining insect.

Sabienn’s eyes then dropped to view the yellow and the black vests. They were keeping a distance in their respective lanes, looking up to see Deep’s clean heels moving upwards and away from them.

“Why are they letting him win?” said Bray.

“Your brother’s been earmarked,” said Jank matter-of-factly. “I’d lay odds. He’s here to die. Fifty-fifty.” Jank faced their dumbfounded looks. “The only thing certain here is that Sherez will win. There would be eyes out looking at your brother. He’d be worthy competition. He may be in the final. But Sherez won’t let a big man beat him.”

“Our brother’s not here to win,” said Sabienn.

“He’s here for the express joy of physical activity,” said Bray. “The magical alignment of muscle, mind and spirit.”

“Does he have fake ears?” said Jank. As Sabienn looked to Bray, Jank continued, “Fifty-fifty.”

They turned back to the action in time to see Deep triumphantly take the top platform. Rather than offer an excessive display of achieving victory, Deep stood tall and waited for his opponents to make the final mark. As a true sportsman, he bent down to offer each a hand as they arrived and guided them both to the safety of the platform. Then they were all gone, presumably to find stairs at the rear.

At that moment, Sabienn noticed more suspicious uniforms finding seats in the stadium at an inconspicuous distance away. They looked like normal Turrs acting as spectators but their occasional looks in his direction gave their function away.

“You’re not alone here,” said Sabienn.

“I noticed them too,” said Bray, swivelling around. “Are we a little bit threatening?”

“When you’re as important as me,” said Jank without missing a beat. “Just ignore them. Your brother’s up again next.”

As he spoke the contestants lined up on the ground in front of the wall for the final. The diminutive figure of Sherez was first to appear in his white vest. Two more stocky Turrs appeared who had won their heats; one wearing green and the other red. Then Deep finally appeared in his blue vest, raising his arm to acknowledge the crowd. He limbered up and faced the wall, allowing his wings to find air.

Sabienn knew that Deep would have been aware of the tactics on offer here. As he stretched his arms, he was looking at the opposition. The green Turr contestant was moving suspiciously close to him even before the start.

“Begin,” barked the official. As soon as the clock was on, Deep turned to the green contestant who moved in quickly towards him. With a deft manoeuvre, Deep stabbed two fingers into the green man’s left eye; not enough to damage any tissue but enough to stun the man into a bewildered favouring of his face. It gave Deep a few valuable seconds.

Quickly Sherez wasted no time and was on the wall. His small body within its white vest moved swiftly vertical, taking the slim hand and footholds in his stride. Sabienn saw his brother then immediately tackle the wall, gaining purchase on the small grips crafted to look like crevices and outcrops on a natural cliff face. He moved quickly now, being careful to always shadow Sherez, as per his instructions.

The man in the red vest was making curious diversions on his way upward. To Sabienn watching the red man’s nimble arms, it appeared that he was clawing his way closer to the agile figure of Sherez. He was at about the five-metre mark adjacent to Deep when he pulled away and moved with speed onto the heels of Sherez.

At that moment, the red vest reached upwards and grabbed the heel of Sherez, who reacted with utter shock. Sherez almost lost his grip as his foot was wilfully dislodged.

“Clearly this red guy hasn’t received the memo,” called Bray, watching on intently.

As Sabienn looked on, he saw Deep looking upwards at the action. He halted his steady rise and moved closer to the altercation between red and Sherez, staying below and to the side. He wasn’t involved but readied himself should he be needed.

“Look at green,” called Bray.

As Deep was looking upward, green vest had recovered enough to commit to the climb and was placing his hand on Deep’s ankle. Before there was a chance that the foothold be dislodged, Deep let rip with a solid kick to the green man’s face. It looked like a flying side kick done downwards on a vertical plane, using his wings to balance. Sabienn could hear the crack of the green man’s nostrils from where he sat, and the vest had no presence of mind to grip on to anything. Green man dropped five metres and hit the ground like a sack of garbage. He landed on his legs but soon crumpled to an untidy mess. Attendants on the ground were quick to revive him and remove him for attention.

As Sabienn got eyes back on his brother, Deep looked up in time to narrowly miss being hit by a falling red man. Sherez must have threw out an effective foot to dislodge the red contender. The red man’s leg hit Deep’s head on the way down. Luckily Deep held firm on his small grips but his ears became loose and for all intents and purposes were ready to fall from each of his ears.

Red man dropped and landed on his back on the cold hard ground at the bottom. He didn’t look healthy at all as the attendants came with the stretcher. Deep looked upwards in time to see Sherez suddenly in space, falling to the ground. All the interference must have been too much for the white vested man to keep hold.

Sabienn was stunned to see Deep reach out his long left arm and grab Sherez’s right arm as he dropped like a stone quickly by him aided by gravity. Deep’s hand held on tight to Sherez’s forearm as the force of receiving the huge weight made Deep swivel on his narrow foothold and swing around to hit the wall with the back of his wings. Bang. All eyes of the stadium were now on the action on the vertical face.

Deep remained there for a few crucial seconds before he got his breath and energy and swung Sherez back around his body allowing Sherez to grab a handhold then a foothold.

Without any acknowledgement of the man that had saved him from the injury of hitting the hard ground, Sherez continued on up his way. His hands and legs moved like a spider to reach the vertical peak unimpeded.

The stadium was still silent. Sabienn looked aghast at his brother still stationary on the wall at the five-metre mark. Both his fake ears were gone and had fallen to the ground. Realizing the fate, Deep slowly continued on upwards.

“Your brother’s dead,” said Jank without emotion. “He’d be best to just let himself drop to his death at twelve metres.”

Both Sabienn and Bray were now on their feet, looking intently at their brother hanging on the wall. There was now movement in the stadium. Jank’s entourage started to move from their carefully planted places within the crowd.

Deep looked out to the crowd with despair before deciding to complete his climb. What turned out to be a casual piece of fun and worthy exercise had become the last action of his life.

With minimal effort, Sherez made the top platform and held his hands up in triumph. He stayed there as Deep made the final grip holds at the top. Sherez generously helped Deep up and on to the top plank. To his credit, Sherez shook Deep’s hand before Deep was led away by some cloaked officials waiting for him. The big man disappeared from view.

An announcement was heard, “The winner. White. Blue is disqualified. Red and green failed to complete.”

As he heard it, hands gripped on to Sabienn from behind. He turned to see someone placing a rag over Bray’s face. The unmistakeable smell of chloroform was in the air. He found himself preoccupied with events close to him and he was struggling with all his might.

Then a single gunshot was heard from the area at the rear of the climbing wall. Deep. Brother!

A rag moved over Sabienn’s nose and mouth and he held out breath for as long as he could. He slowly relented and fell limp. His vision starred and his mind swirled.

Deep. Stork. Bray. My brothers! A forced sleep of foreign vapours took hold. Sabienn’s world went dark.