Fighting the Fall ✔

Chapter Fourteen - Part Two

Chapter Fourteen - Part Two

Dustin King

Instinct took over. I bent my head forward as my body hit the canvas.

"One... Two..."

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.

"Goliath!"

My eyes flew open at the sound of his name, but closed just as quickly as he landed the first punch on my face. I struggled to get from under his weight as he straddled me.

His fists kept coming.

"And that's a foul from Goliath!"

"Anderson!"

He finally moved. I heard his rough, gravelly voice shouting. I lifted my head to see that he had the referee cornered.

Goliath stabbed the air with his glove in my direction. Then his eyes changed, became more venomous.

I rushed to my feet.

Baring his teeth, he growled, then put his gloves back up as he came closer. I noticed a hint of red -- my blood -- on the grey material.

I swung first. He ducked.

All of a sudden, a stinging pain shot down my legs. They locked up. My eyes shut tightly, so tightly I heard the buzz and felt the vibration in my ears.

My knees gave way.

"Not so great and mighty now, are you, King?"

"A blow below the belt from Goliath!"

"What belt? He ain't wearing a belt." Laughter.

My entire abdomen was consumed by a fiery, pulsating heat as it cramped. I squirmed, desperate for relief. None would come.

I felt like I was going to be sick.

My eyes became watery. My lungs struggled to retain the air I was gasping.

"You've got three minutes, kid. Anderson, one more foul and you're out!"

I couldn't be sure how much time had passed. Not until the announcer said, "The King has thirty seconds left to get back up, or else Goliath wins by default."

I counted the beats of my heart as it pounded in my ears.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

I forced myself to rise. My legs were still unstable, but the adrenaline masked some of the pain that was left over.

"He refuses to be dethroned!"

I parried his first punch and ducked under the second. As soon as I came back up, I successfully got him off balance with a right cross and immediately followed up with a left hook.

He stumbled back, his gloves away from his face in an effort to maintain his balance. I seized the opportunity and shot my fist up under his chin once more.

He hit the ground with a thud.

---

"There's a little extra in there for all the trouble Anderson caused." David Hauser, the promoter, a fifty-something year old man with all the youth in the world, patted me on the back. Gently this time. "But don't tell anyone."

I looked down at the hundreds in my hand. "Are you sure?" I wasn't sure how much "extra" was, but it really wasn't necessary. Money was not what I was in it for.