Jamdown

Chapter 22

Terry Arden

If anyone told me I wore used clothing on an American Football field I would have laughed in their face. Who's laughing now?

My eyes graced the field. A panoramic view that provided a grand exhibition of the men that stood on it with their small figures. In comparing it to the grand stadium of people, it was not much of a fair comparison.

My breath hitched at the prospect of going out there. I could not believe I was doing this. My shoe dug into the grass. The air suffocated me more than the tapes holding this damn armor together.

Sweat rolled unabated along my skin. I moved forward and took in the other team players gawking at me like I was some alien. Everything was so stiff. How did they move in this thing?

I walked up to the huddle. The men were all gathered together in a circle. Was it worship, or was it a meeting? Their serious expressions spoke louder than their constantly shifting feet and eyes.

I smelt the dried sweat of my new comrades and my nose begged for a savior.

As much as I hated the sport, I was not so cruel to deny them at least a chance at glory, but this was the first and last time I was doing this.

Donavan's closed his eyes, while Leon laughed about something.

Leon made a flick of his wrist. "Which position will our driver be playing?"

I frowned.

Donavan sighed. "Best I can think of is tightend. Arden just block the guy you are assigned to block."

"Block?" I asked.

"Just push them down," Donavan said.

"The guy in front of me, right?" I asked.

Donavan opened his mouth then he closed it, looked away, and said, "Mostly?"

There was a shifting of the feet and some shaking heads before Modric raised his hand. "I call it, this about to be a shit show."

"It already is one," Leon cut in.

I said, "Can we get this over with?"

Donavan sighed. "Arden, know what—plow through a path for Irwin. You are his shield. Go wide and push down any person in your way. Can you do it?"

I tensed and shook my arms. "Yeah, I think I can."

"Irwin, follow Arden. Break."

The team separated. Irwin and I stood there like some lost puppies. Whether we were thinking of what we were going to do, or what we could not do, the universe was not sure. We traded unsure stares before stepping towards the lined-up men.

Donavan caught the ball. I looked at the line of our teammates being pushed back. My heart skipped a beat, while bodies collapsed over each other. Everything, was, slow, funny I was so used to seeing a fast-moving mass of chaos, yet it felt so slow to me right now.

My heart throbbed, but my goal was simple enough. Push them over, huh? I smirked. If it was a battle of strength with those skinny fools, I might as well enjoy it. Narrowing my eyes, I pushed to the right, and with a flick of the arm, I pushed aside one person and crashed into another. I doubled over stumbling, but I instantly jumped forward into a sprint.

Three men rushed at me. The claustrophobia gripped me, for I almost hesitated.

"North West!" was that Irwin? Was he still behind me? I almost looked back, but I knew it was him. He was studiously near. His energy flowed into me and pushed me forward. It was insane. He would know better than me, so I followed his lead.

I planted my feet and swerved into the left side of the field. The Savalamander player lowered his head. I twirled around the helmet charge and spun near the sideline. A pain ripped through me, but it was brief as it ended at my elbow. The other players diverted back and chased us into a corner.

The tape tightened into my ankle and dug for my bone marrow. These pads chugged with each sway and made me drenched under the heavy weight.

I jumped off the sideline and into one player. The pads punched me as I leaped forward. I sucked in air as they snapped back into place like an urchin. The player tried bouncing off me to run clear. I rolled into his side, our ankles intertwined. We stumbled, dropping both of us into a dusty heap.

I groaned. Sweat permeated my face and soaked my skin like the slow rapids. The tips of the grass prickled the skin. I pushed off the helmet and breathed out. Irwin was jumping happily in the end zone.

At least he was happy. Breathing heavily, I relaxed and watched the cheering crowd. Looking back at the carnage I left behind me, I did not do badly for my first time.

I also needed to play strong safety which according to Donavan meant I was the second to last line of defense. Irwin and I stayed back a good distance and tried our best to prevent touchdowns and loose receivers. Guess what, we sucked at it.

Touchdowns happened against us with relative ease.

That was not what bothered me though. It was Irwin. I knew when someone looked at me with murderous intent. My eyes never needed to confirm it, for I felt it.

I could have just asked him, but I cared little for such answers. I just wanted to do this and go home, for this was the last time I was doing a favor for Malt.