He walked beside Silas toward the ironworks. Apprehensive thoughts clouded his young mind with haunting images of pain and punishment.
“Don’t worry, Noah,” Silas said, “it’s not a fight to the death.”
Some of his burden melted. “How do they determine a winner?”
“First one to knock the other guy down three times, or knock him completely out cold wins.”
Okay. Worst case, I fall down three times and walk out with the money. Noah went along behind Silas past the back doors to the factory and deeper into the city’s shadows.
“Not much farther, lad.”
The big man led him into an abandoned warehouse in the adjacent lot. Orange glow from the firelight within flickered in its filthy windows. The duo stopped in front of a big brute at the main doors.
“Are you here to fight, or to watch and wager?” The gorilla had an authoritative tone.
“Me and the boy are here to box.” Silas slapped Noah’s chest.
The bruiser jabbed a big thumb over his shoulder toward the makeshift ring. “Head on back and check in with Marbles.”
“Marbles?” Noah strode into the large structure, passing through muttering clusters of men discussing odds and the records of their favorite fighters.
A sawed-off man stood at the front of the ring jotting down names and notes into his notebook. His ring of disheveled salt-and-pepper hair floated in the light breeze.
“Excuse me,” Silas inched closer to the man, “Marbles?”
As the little man peered up from his notes, his nickname became apparent. “That’s my name.” He studied them both with his lone brown eye. “Got one for an eye and lost all the rest!” He buckled over in a fit of laughter and slapped his knee.
“We’re here to fight,” Silas said. “The mate out front told us to see you.”
Noah couldn’t look away from Marbles’s milky glass eye.
“She’s a beaut, ain’t she?” Marbles said. “Took a bayonet to the face in the trenches over in France. Italian glass.” He stabbed his paper with the stubby pencil in his left hand. “You’ve come to the right place. Names?”
“I’m Noah.”
Marbles turned his good eye to Noah’s companion.
“Silas,” the giant said.
Marbles waved them over to a quieter corner of the warehouse. “Here’s how it works, gents. You’ll each get one bout with an opponent chosen at random. First one to knock the other fella down three times wins. You knock him out, you win.” He pointed his pencil to a man collecting money farther down. “Winner gets ten percent of the wagers placed on his fight. The loser walks, if he still can, with five dollars. Understand?”
They both nodded.
“Good,” Marbles said. “None of the usual bad stuff: biting, kicking, or hitting in the groin. Do that and you’ll forfeit.”
Marbles walked them back over to the ring. “Noah, you’ll be up in the first bout. Silas, you’ll follow him. Any questions?”
“N-No, sir,” Noah said.
“Don’t worry, son,” Marbles said with a chuckle, “no one’s ever died in here, yet.” His alto hoot faded into the growing murmur of the audience.
Silas took him by the arm and led him over to the far wall away from the activity. “Listen,” he said, removing his shirt, “the best thing to do is to keep your guard up.” He held his huge fists in front of his face. “Then they have to work harder to hit ya.”
A tall middle-aged man wandered to the center of the ring of burning barrels and shushed the crowd. “All right, folks. Settle down! Let’s get right to it.” Marbles strode out to meet the announcer and handed him a slip of paper. “Our first fight will be between Noah and Chu!”
Part of the crowd cheered while the rest of it chanted the Chinaman’s name. A towering barbarian of a man slid off his shirt in the far corner of the ring and strode to the center. His thick pecs flexed up and down rhythmically.
“Great,” Silas said in disgust. “At random, me arse.”
“Sounds like he’s been here before.” Noah slid his shoulder straps down. He took off his stained undershirt and tossed it on a nearby crate.
“Aye.” Silas gave his beard a nervous stroke. “Ole Chu has never been defeated. He’s as tough as they come, boy.”
Noah’s scrawny chest deflated. “Any advice?”
Silas walked him to the ring and led him in. “Whatever ya do, keep movin’. If he hits you, stay down. Take your five dollars and walk away with your head still attached. That’s my advice.”
The announcer beckoned Noah to the heart of the ring with a curl of his fingers. Silas’s big hands massaged his tight shoulders, and then one of them slapped his back.
“I’ll do me best to help you from here.”
“Thanks.” Noah strode to meet the imposing champ.
The announcer glared at both fighters. “You both know the rules. I want a good, clean match with no funny business.” He looked down to Noah. “Understand?”
Noah’s head bobbed.
He turned to Chu, “Understand?”
The husky Asian nodded.
“When I say, fight, you go at it.” The lanky announcer backed out of the ring and rejoined Marbles over next to the money counter. “Ready---fight!”
Chu wasted no time charging in with a flurry of punches. Noah leaned away and staggered toward Silas.
“Keep movin’!” Silas shouted over the roar of the crowd.
Noah scurried around the ring like a mouse caught in a corner. Chu did little to evade any would-be assaults. He looks like the sort that would just stand toe-to-toe and trade punches until someone fell over. Chu charged him and unleashed another assault. Noah ducked under the onslaught and landed a cross to the brute’s belly. Chu danced backward shaking his jet-black hair. The smirk on his face spoke volumes. Is that all you’ve got, squirt?
The crowd howled and jeered Noah as he looked around for guidance.
“Yer gonna have to slug him harder than that, Noah!” Silas shook his meaty fist.
Chu danced in closing the gap between them. His fists wound small orbits in front of his narrow brown eyes. Noah shuffled backward into another warm body.
“Oh, no you don’t!” The man shoved him forward.
Noah stumbled toward Chu right as his shoulder lowered. A searing wave of pain pulsed under his left eye socket, and the champ’s fan club roared in approval. Noah instinctively set his left hand over the wound to soothe it. Chu pounced on the opening like a panther to its prey. Two more stinging blows connected with Noah’s nose and temple sending the boy to the dusty floor.
“Just stay down!” Silas waved his arms from the far corner.
That oversized son of a bitch. Noah’s ego hurt more than his bleeding nostril. He jumped to his feet and charged Chu in a blind fury. Chu bounced back on the balls of his feet and shoved Noah out of reach.
“Watch the shoving, there!” The announcer hopped up from behind his perch.
The Asian nodded and advanced on Noah once more. Chu feigned a jab to one side causing him to cover his face. Noah’s more seasoned opponent seized the opportunity and landed two quick shots to either kidney. Noah hunched over as the nauseating waves stole his breath. In the flash of a fist, he tumbled backward into the dust propelled by a powerful uppercut from Chu. Several spectators blurred into a wash of color and sound as Noah cupped his busted nose in his hands. He got up on an elbow and saw Chu bouncing on his feet.
Noah sank back to the floor and shut his eyes. Blood poured out of his left nostril in a steady stream. The announcer’s shoes hustled across the ring to his side.
“Are you all right, son?” He picked Noah’s left arm up and let it drop with a thud. “Our winner by knockout,” he proclaimed extending a hand toward the brute, “and still undefeated, Chu!”
The crowd chanted their champion’s name as he performed his victory lap around the ring. Noah forced his battered body upright again and staggered back to the comfort of the cold shadows.
“I can’t,” Noah stammered, gasping for air, “I can’t take this anymore.”
Silas rolled his bald head around on its thick neck. “You put up the best fight you could. That’s all you can ask of yourself.”
“I’m sorry, Max.” Noah rocked on his haunches doing his best to conceal his failure. “I did the best I could.”
“Okay, folks!” the announcer bellowed as he strode back into the ring. “For our next fight, may I please have Silas and Ollie?”
“Chin up, lad.” Silas paced into the ring.
Having exchanged the cursory handshake, Silas and Ollie split up and circled one another like wild animals. Ollie stood eye-to-eye with the bulky Irishman. He wore a long handlebar moustache whose tips terminated in the center of either cheek. His keen eyes followed Silas’s every move.
Silas landed the first blow in the bout with a cross to Ollie’s jaw. The burly boxer waggled his lower jaw and shook his head of blond hair. Ollie countered with a couple of fast uppercuts to Silas’ left side. The Irishman bent over; his once stern face carried the burden of his misery. Ollie tossed another jab into the opening in his defenses landing it squarely on Silas’ chin. Noah’s oversized friend collapsed to the floor, his thick legs giving out. The ravenous crowd roared and rose to their feet. They urged Silas back to his feet, which he obliged with a nod to his followers.
The combatants re-engaged and traded empty swings as they danced around in the square of burning barrels. Noah wiped back his pity and walked to the ring’s edge.
“C’mon, Silas!” He put on his shirt and heaved up his coverall straps.
Silas passed a few taps into the waiting hands of his adversary lolling him into a trance. When the moment arose, he launched a fierce left hook to Ollie’s temple. The shimmering moustache followed his head into the dust at Silas’ boots.
“See?” he shouted from the ring. “Chin up!”
Once Ollie regained his footing, the bout resumed. Standing toe-to-toe, the two juggernauts exchanged body blows with unrelenting force. The spectators stood and cheered the boxers as they battered each other to a pulp.
Ollie circled to the left taking Silas with him. As Noah’s friend came into view, the price of the Irishman’s pride came to bear. Silas’s left eye had been pulverized into a swollen sack of inflammation that bled down the side of his face. His lower lip leaked crimson in multiple places, dripping to the dust in salivated strands. Silas ducked to his right and faked a punch at Ollie’s midsection. His opponent fell for the bait giving Silas another clear shot at his chin. Noah watched as Ollie’s head jerked up and his friend’s fist replaced the space where he had once stood.
“One more, Ollie, and you’re done!” the announcer said.
A pair of strapping men at the front of the ring helped Ollie to his feet and gave him encouraging slaps on his huge shoulders. Silas turned to Noah and poked his arms up in triumph. Ollie landed a cheap shot to his temple sending Silas stumbling to the floor.
“He wasn’t even ready!” Noah paced in his corner. “You can’t count that.”
Half of the crowd shared in his opinion letting the announcer know right away. Silas staggered back to his feet and held his butchered fists in front of his face.
“Next one to fall loses!” the announcer shouted, striding up ringside to get a good view of the final moments of this epic battle.
The two heavyweights stammered in circles around one another looking to exploit the final chink in the other’s armor. A sea of raised hands surrounded the ring as the crowd cheered the men in one of the best bouts in recent memory. Silas lunged in for the win unraveling a flurry of punches, but not a one found Ollie’s face or trunk. Ollie shoved him away and unloaded one powerful cross after another.
“No!” Noah yelled as Silas teetered on his heels.
With one mighty shot to his chin, Silas rocked backward to the ground. Several disappointed gamblers threw their hats into the ring in disgust. Silas rolled to one side as the announcer took Ollie’s hand and raised it to the sky.
“Our winner by knockdown, in one of the best bouts I’ve ever seen, Ollie!”
The throngs of people dispersed, some heading for their payouts while the rest wandered back out into the late evening.
“You can collect all winnings from Jasper at the payout table,” the announcer said, clearing the ring.
Silas hobbled over to Noah beaten and bruised beyond recognition. He plopped down on a small stack of crates and set his swollen head in his hands.
“I can’t even win at what I’ve done most of my life,” Silas said between sniffs. “They deserve a better life than I can provide.”
A boy younger than Noah ran up to them and stood stunned by the bawling boxer. Noah took the bills from his hands and shooed him away. “Go on! This ain’t none of your concern.”
He took one of the fives and handed it to Silas. He stuffed the other in his right shoe and sat beside his friend.
Silas turned his moistened gaze down to Noah. “I’m comin’ with you.”
“You can’t mean that.”
The defeated Irishman slid his shirt over his head and stood up. “I do and I am.” He extended his hand toward the doors. “Lead the way.”
Noah shook his head and led them out the door. I’m not about to start an argument with the big guy in this situation. Maybe the fresh air will bring him back to his senses. The yellow sliver of moon leaned into a pair of passing cumulus clouds as he led Silas to the train station.
“We have to be careful.” Noah snuck through the rows of waiting boxcars. “There’ll likely be some bulls snoopin’ around here soon.”
Noah crept up to the line of cars attached to the lone engine in the station at the time. “I still think you leaving is the worst idea on the planet, Silas.”
The Irishman snorted in contempt. “What gives you that impression?”
Noah stopped and looked his buddy in the eyes. “Your wife and baby love and need you. So you had a bad day. What of it? Don’t you wanna be there to walk your daughter down the aisle of that church when she’s older?”
“We’re barely scraping by and living in a tin hut!” Silas’s frustrations found their escape hatch. “What kind of life is that? What will I do to keep them alive when winter comes?”
Several pairs of boots crunched in the gravel off in the distance. Noah put his index finger on Silas’s big chest and emphasized each word. “You have a choice when it comes to keepin’ your family together.” He jumped up into the boxcar and knelt before Silas. “I didn’t.”
“You there!” A commanding voice rose up behind them.
“Go on,” Noah flapped his hands at Silas, “get on back to the ones that love you the most before you either get caught, or make the worst decision in your life.”
“Stay where you are!” The railroad inspector waddled down the line.
Silas gave him one last grateful glance before he darted off into the shadows of the other cars.
“Stop, stop!” The railroad bull’s strides came in long uneven crunches over the gravel.
Noah grabbed his bag and scrambled around the nearly barren boxcar looking for anyplace he could find to hide. He found a few empty crates and an old tarp setting in the back corner of the shipping car.
“Not foolproof,” he pulled the canvas tarp from the floor, “but it’ll have to do.”
Noah made a crude wall out of the crates and buried himself under the foul stench of the molded canvas.
“Halt.” The bull’s wheezing was more audible.
He’s right outside my car. Nothing to see here. Just some empty crates and a smelly old tarp. The boy’s heart thumped in his throat as the bull’s boots crunched closer to the lip of the boxcar.