14 Ch 14 Fight Club (1/2)

Oddly there weren't too many cars around.

Derrick said the guys met in groups elsewhere and carpooled in. A few of the guys ran taxi service bringing in small groups. Too many cars here would bring too much attention.

Mac was at the kitchen table setting up the bouts. A bunch of guys were lined up across from him. Mac had a notebook and was scribbling intensely.

”Go meet the Doc,” he hollered to me, barely looking up from his notes.

The doctor was an older guy about in his fifties. He was going through the inventory of medicines. He had a dozen needles already prepped.

I wondered what was in them. I wondered why he did this gig. I wondered how much he got paid for his services. I knew better to ask anything as I cleared my throat in the doorway.

”Hey, I'm your help tonight.”

He turned around and gave me a look I couldn't decipher.

”Are you legal?”

I gave him a confused look.

”At least tell me you're twenty-one.”

I wasn't going to tell him I wasn't, not when my birthday was so close.

”I'm legal,” I said with a grin.

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He just shook his head.

”Why don't I believe you?”

He held up his hand stopping any other comments I might make.

”Let me give you some advice, ok? Don't fight. Don't use your real name. Don't tell anyone where you live. And don't say anything about whatever you see here. Oh, and don't bet on the fights. Call me Doc, it's the only name you'll get out of me.”

I gave him a serious nod acknowledging his warning.

”This is how it works, ” he continued. ”You help the guys up here. No one leaves until I clear them, not the winners, not the losers. That's one of the rules. Once they're done here, they can go. They get checked out in the order they finish their fights unless someone needs more urgent care. Anyone unconscious or really bleeding gets bumped to the front of the line.

”There's a specially-marked garbage can in the bathroom for anything bloody. If you have to use the facilities, make it quick. That's where they do a quick wash-down to get rid of any dirt or blood if they have to before they come in here; unless they need to move to the front of the line. A small stack of cheap shorts is there as well.

”You don't talk to anyone. You don't interfere with the fights. It's these guys' choice to come here. The fights go as far as they want. No matter how bad it's looking, you don't try and stop it. If you can't take it down there then stay up here. Got it?”

I nodded. ”Got it.”

”Good. Go on down then and wait for my first customers.”

There were probably close to a hundred guys in the basement, and a few women. I raised an eyebrow but didn't ask. The ring had four guys in it, all wearing safety gear. Eddie was in the sand with another guy ready to start a match. Mac was there.

”Match ends with first blood. Ready? Go.”

I was fascinated to watch the knife fight. I knew Ed was good, but still. I could tell Ed was holding back. His opponent got a slash on his arm. The guy hissed in pain. Mac clicked his stopwatch, made a note, caught my eye and motioned me over.

”Take him to Doc. Next.”

Mac wasted no time as he turned back to the sand as another guy stepped up to fight Eddie.

I led the guy to Doc and watched as the wound was cleaned and Doc was ready to make a few stitches. He looked up at me.

”What are you still doing here? Get back down there.”

I was startled for a second before I realized he was right. Knife fights would probably only last a few minutes each. After a few trips up and down, I had to help one of the guys from the ring.

Mac had to holler out to me that the equipment stayed down there. I pulled off the man's helmet and gloves and found the container where the used mouth guards went. Totally gross.

”And that's why they don't drive themselves here,” said Derrick as he showed up to help the guy to one of the couches.  Doc had cleared the fighter for now but wanted to double-check for concussion in a bit.

The night wore on with groans, cussing, and quiet cheering on occasion. The crowd was oddly low key. I realized this wasn't a spectator crowd, it was a participant crowd. Most of the guys were intent on the fights, evaluating future competition while waiting for their match.

I saw a wide variety of fighting; kick-boxing, regular boxing, different martial arts, flat out punching, even some wrestling. Fighters used a variety of weapons: knives, staffs, even one bout with swords. Weapon fights were held in the sand. Hand to hand combat was mostly held in the ring.

Men came and went. I couldn't keep track of them all. I don't know how Mac did.

The crowd had thinned and the fights grew longer when I caught a smell that threw me totally off guard. I breathed deep after a subtle shift. The odor was as clear as a flashing neon sign.

There was a wolf in the room somewhere.

My nails dug into my palms without thought. The wolf part of me surged to the forefront and I struggled to maintain control.