Free The Killer by Jack Elgos

van.
    Roberto started the engine and they drove off, making their way up a barren looking cart track. As the van crested the hill, Darren could clearly see four large wooden buildings standing in a neat row in the middle of a lush and green plateau. The van drew up to the front of the first building and parked. Once they had all climbed out Rosa placed two fingers in her mouth and blew a short, shrill whistle. Moments later men started spilling from each hut. Most of them were still dressing, tucking shirts into trousers and fastening buttons as they went. There were around thirty of them and they appeared to be a tough looking bunch indeed. Quickly they formed a neat row and stood to attention.
    Rosa waited a moment and then shouted for everyone to hear. ‘This,’ pointing at Darren, ‘is your new close combat training officer. You will speak only in Español to him. His name is Mr. Butch, he is to be obeyed instantly, and questioned never.’ As she stood looking at the “boys,” she asked if anyone had any questions.
    An incredibly large and tough looking man took one slow pace forward and, staring directly at Rosa, said a string of words Darren didn’t catch. Steve whispered a rough translation. ‘That man says you are too small and weak to teach him anything about fighting. He says you look like a child, a weakling, you should be sent back to wherever you came from, as he would be much better suited as trainer.’
    ‘Ah, a challenge,’ Rosa further explained to Darren. ‘He wants to take your job. Do you accept Mr. Butch?’
    It seemed to Darren that Rosa wasn’t too happy at this turn of events, as though it had challenged her authority, and he was none too pleased himself. He’d had one good night’s sleep but still felt weakened after his ordeal in the oil drums. Still, he knew better than to let any doubt show. ‘It’s all right by me, I don’t mind at all,’ he yawned in disinterested fashion.
    ‘Yes, but a challenge for power here among our brave E.T.A. freedom fighters means to fight to the death, and the challenger has the choice of weapons. Do you understand this Mr. Butch, and do you still accept?’ she asked, checking with Steve to make sure the Irishman fully understood exactly what this challenge meant.
    Darren held a hand up to Steve, ‘I’ve got it mate,’ he assured him while his mind quickly rationalised the situation. Every fight he’d ever entered was potentially to the death, so nothing new there. Also, if he needed to stamp his authority on the situation, as he clearly did, then he would h ave chosen the biggest, toughest looking man to make his point anyway. All or nothing, he decided. ‘Yer man over there looks like he wants it badly enough, so yes, I’ve no objections to taking him on at all,’ he told Rosa indifferently.
    ‘Combat here, now, and Juan asks for knives, so knives it is,’ Rosa announced at the top of her voice as the men quickly formed a circle around Darren and his challenger - their champion, Juan.
    As the two men stood in the centre, each staring fiercely into the other’s eyes, two very large, mean looking knives, which bore a striking resemblance to world war one era bayonets, were thrown in towards the pair. Juan bent and picked up his knife and tested its edge. He gave an evil grin as he stood and waited patiently. Darren looked down at his knife and shook his head, kicking it away into the crowd. The men watched as he pulled The Killer from his pocket and flicked open the blade. He glanced across to Rosa, waiting for her approval of his preferred weapon. She nodded towards him and to Juan, who also nodded his acceptance of the knife, and then gave the command for the combat to begin.
    The two men started slowly circling each other. Both adopted the classic knife fighter’s pose, bent slightly at the waist, hunched over, ever staring they went with outstretched arms. Each man knew that any mistake, no matter how slight, could be fatal. Slowly and