Avarice Desperation Valley Book 1

The Hole

For a big man Bennett was shockingly quick, this harsh, violent life giving him every opportunity to hone his fighting prowess, and Carlos was tiring. Lack of food and his first brush with Bennett were all taking its toll, and it was a surprise to all assembled that he was still on his feet. Warily they circled one another, each measuring the others will, looking for an opening, waiting for an invitation to victory to present. Carlos' breath coming in ragged gasps, his quick dark eyes attempting to anticipate his foe's next move. Sweat soaking his black hair, adhering the sand to his back, bruising ugly and purple beginning to show around his throat, the golden ring on its chain glinting brightly there; gleaming gold against the dark.

The tussle ended as abruptly as it began, Carlos barely cognizant to see it coming, let alone still possessing the strength and stamina to evade the crushing blow. Bennett's well delivered lightening fast uppercut connected powerfully with his jaw, knocking him senseless to the ground. The bully of a man looming over him the triumphant victor, even if it had always been a one sided fight.

Renard had watched these proceedings from the sidelines, amazed. However war was waste, and waste these men did in abundance, they could not see beyond what the last seven years of hard survival had wrought on their collective psyche.

To Renard it was blatantly obvious that to do this to this man was a crying waste. So typical of these brutish morons, their failure to recognize talent and put it to good use. Any fool could see what a fine warrior Carlos would make, his timing and reflexes were phenomenal, rarely bestowed on a man. With a bit of discipline and training the wild looking lad would be a fearsome foe indeed, but no, these mindless louts would prefer to destroy all they could not understand or conquer.

Renard though had problems enough of his own, without dwelling on someone else's. These last few days had been pure turmoil for his usually decisive mind. The appearance of his sister as hostage demanded that he come up with something clever, and quickly.

Still he knew not what, and somehow he must get urgent word to his parents, because in the next few days Bennett's bloodthirsty crew would undoubtedly be on their doorstep. This game he played had reached a new and dangerous level, and the prizes of his success or failure would be all those he cherished. With these grim thoughts and as yet no solution running through his head, Renard stood, casually leaning in the shade toward the rear of the rabid throng, taking in the sadistic spectacle being played out before him. The only phrase to spring to mind as he watched Bennett reach down and unchain the sorry captive was, life can be so damn unfair.

The sharp tug of a fist in his knotted hair brought a window of clarity to Carlos' reeling senses. Another rough hand slid under his arm encouraging him to stand. He staggered upward, the supporting hand gripping him all too tightly with torn and dirty nails biting like talons into his flesh. Trying vainly to focus on the milling crowd, he was dimly aware that the chain's long confining weight had been lifted from about his neck.

Desperately armed with this new knowledge he made a last futile effort to escape. However weakened and disoriented as he was, he only received a painful buffeting for his efforts. Bennett's solid presence restraining him, guiding him from behind toward, he knew not where. The rest of the rowdy gathering followed pressing close, the rank smell of unwashed bodies, fire smoke and sour alcohol, sickly and cloying, making him want to wretch, as he was directed just beyond the central circle of huts, toward the rubbish dump.

The odor here was stifling, with most avoiding this unwholesome place, today though the crowd did not seem to care, ignoring the heady stench of decaying carcasses, and other unmentionable wastes. All of which the camp generated with profusion, drawing clouds of flies amongst the twisted, rusting, skeletons of vehicles discarded long ago.