✄❀ challenge 40

“Thank you for today.”

The man in charge took quick glance at his watch. “Six o’clock, already? Time really flies. Yes, of course, thank you.” Then it was back to the list of labels on a laptop screen.

Hearing this, Ritz paused in front of the doorway, bag tucked under his arm. He stared into the back wall for a few minutes and then began scraping unswept leaves and petals between floorboards with the toe of his boot. The noise of rubber on wood caught Shel’s attention again and he looked back over the top of his screen. Ritz continued to loiter stiffly.

“You can go if you need to.”

“Oh.” Ritz jumped to attention. “I was going, just…”

“No worries. See you tomorrow.”

“Good. I mean, thanks. See you.” Ritz turned. He already had his hand on the doorknob. He heard Shel chuckle.

“Got a big game today?”

“What?”

Shel nodded towards Ritz’s bag. It was about a meter long, sporty but old, made of black cotton with a motto printed on the side. CHAMPIONS AREN’T BORN it said, and the rest of the catchphrase had been scraped off with time because it was too close to the bottom of the bag. Some sort of stick was jabbing at the end panel of the bag from the inside.

Shel smiled.

Ritz bit his lip. But he had heard this question before, so he knew how to answer. “Yes. Again.” He hoisted the bag up on his shoulder. “It’s been a long time. This time I will do better.”

It actually sounded nicer than the truth.

“Good luck.”

“I will do my best.”

The little bell above the door jingled then jingled again. Shel went back to labelling the next day’s’ deliveries and wondered if he would need to call in his partner Sal to cover for Ritz the next day.

Shel had never really cared for sports so he never saw need to investigate, and he was sure that trying to get a clear explanation from their antsy assistant could take hours. So he wasn’t sure what sort of sporting event Ritz was into. But he did know that they never ended well.

—-

Out of the warm woody glow and soft smells of the S2 Florist, the sun was setting behind rows of chilly gray concrete. Ritz walked slowly so his eyes had time to adjust, he wrapped his scarf around his neck, then again, in several layers. It was really too long to be practical, even though he’d grown so much since receiving it. Was also in serious need of a wash, but it was black, so he couldn’t really tell and neither could passerby – not that there were any at the moment. The streets were empty, but still smelled like exhaust. Motorcycle gangs were in style, and though he heard people complain that these gangs never did anything useful, they did always seem to be in a rush to get somewhere. Could be that they just never talked to anyone about their plans. Ritz liked to think that.

Well, never talked to anyone but each other. The bikes did tend to travel in packs.

What would Shel and Sal say if he told them where he was heading? This was just a fanciful idea, he wasn’t sure how to explain it to them in words.

Shel was a slightly simpery man with hair that Ritz would only describe as girlish and pink. Sal was his tank of a partner. She had arms like tree trunks. He had heard the comparison from Shel so he thought it was alright to say, and his coworker at the time had laughed because it was a tree joke, and the shop sold plants. Shel and Sal did not like all jokes though, the same coworker had laughed that they should have named the flower shop “SS” and the two owners had not found that very funny. Ritz felt pretty safe because he didn’t know many jokes and couldn’t really pronounce “SS”. The owners considered this just fine. He did not talk to their clients, and that was fine, and he could follow instructions which was all that was needed.

But sometimes they said things he didn’t immediately understand, like “up the creek” and “weed tea” and “so, what are you in for?” Shel had also taken to asking him about “The Big Game” whenever he brought his equipment in, like today.

It had taken another coworker to explain that this had to do with sports. That coworker had played Big Games of baseball with his friends. And sometimes the radio mentioned Big Games, and everyone got excited, or at least no more tense than usual. These games seemed like fun. Did Shel think he was going to have fun?

He’d have more fun cutting his own guts out at home.

No, don’t say that. Have strength.

Ritz glanced up at his surroundings. He had crossed six and a half blocks, no, only six. There were a few pedestrians around now. They were not looking at him, and they couldn’t possibly know, but he felt shameful, slow as a turtle. He had barely gotten anywhere. What was the time?

Any slower and it would be like he had quit. But he couldn’t do that. Who cared what these people thought. They were different. He had real work to do.

He hoisted the old sports bag up again and stretched his arms and legs. Then he exploded into a lengthy sprint. He sped straight through a red light and near-silently around the corner of the residential block, footsteps lightly slinging dust from the sidewalk. Of course he wouldn’t know, but the pedestrians who hadn’t given a damn a second ago now looked up in annoyance at a brisk wind they felt.

Who was that? Couldn’t even be bothered to wait for the light. What could possibly be so important? This town is really going to the dogs.

But the moment passed. A wacko charging down the street was hardly remarkable. He didn’t even have a bike.

—

He got to the cathedral in only a mild sweat, so for a second he was proud: his condition hadn’t gotten too bad over the last month. But at the same time the weather had cooled since his last challenge, so things might have been as they ever were. He also felt a little ill from the fish sandwich he had decided to try earlier that day. Where did this city even get its fish? He was sure he had been taught there wasn’t an ocean for miles around. And not to trust fish if it was offered as it was likely old and full of rot.

They weren’t to trust anyone outside the society, meaning their Society.

Thinking back to his lessons made him feel even more nauseous. He wanted to sit down, maybe lie down, and not get up until the alarm told him it was time for work again.

Focus, idiot.

The sun still peeked over the ruined stone structure and through shattered windows he could see there were a few beams slicing through the interior shadows, from cracks in the ceiling and walls further back. Through the mottled glass the ground inside looked to be coated in thick, discolored fur. He shuddered. The place was still hideous.

“Old Church” that was what the neighborhood maps called it. It wasn’t anything like the massive white brick towers in the middle of Central district and its various juniors scattered throughout the city. They were both monsters, but the real Church had life. It looked, or at least wanted to look as though it were full of secrets, a fruit to hundreds of singing, glittering followers. But this dessicated wreck didn’t even have seats. In an hour or two, it wouldn’t have lighting either. And Ritz was pretty sure only two people had passed through its walls in the past decade.

She was in there now.

A slight breeze blowing through the holes in the skeleton made a low, unpleasant whistle. A faint rustling inside, the sound of grass. And the smell of someone who’d be fired over at S2.

S2 had a policy against letting their floral trash sit for more than a day. Ritz happily removed cuttings from the shop whenever he could. But he’d seen at least two people get lazy and at least one leave with a broken nose. How many years of trash is this? Wh- are those last year’s Christmas arrangements? What made you think it was okay to just leave these under the sink? God!

Ritz smiled to himself as he approached the doorway.

He reached for the left door, the only one that worked properly after a nasty challenge two years ago that had detached the right door’s hinge. He was about to give the door a tug when he noticed. It was not immediately obvious but the righthand door was balanced precariously against the left door rather than sitting in its frame as it usually was.

Had she left the building and forgotten which door to use when re-entering?

No, that was impossible. But that meant someone had tried to get in. Some complete idiot. A poor sap, Shel would say.

It would be laughable. She’d rip anyone to pieces. They’d have to be stronger than Ritz to live through it. At the same time, what if the someone had gotten away? He couldn’t bear to think of it. At the same time…

A breeze flowed down the street, opposite direction this time and the smell of rot was stronger than ever. Rotting plants, rotting people… would he know the difference? Did this mean people had been nosing about without his noticing?

There’s no way she would have missed it  though. And he couldn’t see anyone else getting out alive. Sometimes he wasn’t sure how he managed any of those other times, how many now-

Don’t think about the number.

Who knew how many more had fallen prey to the thing inside?

Numbers weren’t important. It was the people. That’s right. That’s why he was here. She wasn’t about to act on his behalf even in the stories he made up. He looked up and down the street and once he was absolutely sure nobody was about, took a deep breath and let the bag drop. He’d handled it delicately all day, keeping it out of the way, but when it slammed into the concrete there was a loud clack. He tore open the zipper and pulled out his sword in its leather sheath. Another deep breath. He held it straight and drew out the blade slowly, glaring into his reflection.

Remember, you are fighting a killer. Remember what she did. This is your duty. You have to do it, there is nobody else left. Don’t run.

The sword was old. There was no doubting that. There were fresh scrapes and dents from his last challenge, layered over countless others, and more than a few bends and kinks from when someone sat or stomped on it when he was unwise enough to try public transport. Soon enough, it would leave him, like everything else. Home. The school. The Society.

He wanted to give the old mainstay justice before that happened.

But what happens if it breaks sooner? Do you just give up?

He closed his eyes. Don’t think about that. Don’t let there be a future. Just end it tonight. I’ve had enough. We all have. Please. Let this one be the last time. Let me win.

He opened his eyes. The last of the sunset gleaming off the blade made it look almost new again, or at least more battle-ready. He took one last deep breath of putrid air (it seemed even worse than it had been minutes ago) and kicked open the loose right door.

It fell inward and landed with a thud in the carpet of grass and pale flowers that coated the floor. He stormed in against a mysterious black wind that swept his hair and scarf back, grinding the petals into the dirt and remains of stone flooring. Brandishing the sword, he roared, “I’m here! And tonight, you will pay for your deeds, tonight it will end!”

The words echoed around the hallowed hall, but it did not give the satisfaction of a strong voice in pleasant or still air. His voice fought with the sound of the wind whistling through the various cracks. The grass hissed in protest.

“Show yourself!”

The wind slowly died. He didn’t hear much and with the sun having set, he didn’t see much either. To stave off the pathetic hope that she might still be out, he called her directly. A stupid move to match a stupid thought.

“Ran!”

Maybe she isn’t here. But if she is, let’s just get this over with…

He heard. Not footsteps but a twang, like an instrument string popping. Almost instantly he was pitched upside down by some unseen force ripping upward from below and a steely flash impacted his left side. Ran’s face swung into his view, upside down. A colorless face and a loose bundle of similarly colorless hair. Dressed dark for the occasion, of course. People had said they looked much alike.

But looks mean nothing in a fight to the death.

There she hung for a half second then flew out of sight and he started yelling.

Some inches out of sight Ran was shaking her head and muttering, “What a disappointment. After after you had so long between now and the last time. An exceptional rest. If you were looking to waste an evening, surely there are better ways…”

She was also pretty bad with people. Another detail that didn’t matter. Not just yet.

“Remember, reach the end with grace…”

Ran clenched a fist, with hand larger than any humans, but mangled and padded, an animal’s claw. There was the strike of guitarlike strings again and Ritz felt a block of flesh cleaved from his lower leg, a square of his work suit going with it. He reached for it but his nearest arm seemed paralyzed. He swung the the one with the blade instead. The swing began a cut on his right cheek and with each movement it seemed to deepen, something swiping clear through each time as though his own sword were laid on him. He started roaring again, but without any words.

—

Property prices around the Old Church are extremely attractive. You wouldn’t happen to be looking, would you because I’ve got some great deals. Some interesting properties, what do you think of this wallpaper? These sliding doors, the light wood tiles? Really let the sun in. The exact name escapes me, but the family must have been a fan of nature. So you’ve been there, what did you think? Oh, the smell? Fertilizer, the area is – And the noise… no, this is not a high crime area. It’s perfectly safe.

A white faced ghost. What are you talking about? This is a legitimate establishment, what do you think we are? Get out of here before I call the cops.

—

Ritz awoke upside down, but the fight was over, he was no longer suspended in the air. There was a heavy weight on his shoulders, and he realized it was the ground. He was lying on his neck against a wall, legs in the air. Groaning, he flopped onto his side. His ribs slammed into the awaiting concrete block below and he groaned again. His foot tapped against something hard, and it made a metallic scrape. Probably the sword.

He had messed up entirely. Let his guard down. Gotten a big head. Every axiom of a challenge, every aspect of his teachings and training and vow had been forgotten and he had lost more or less instantly. He was tired. Should have done it on a weekend. Why was he even here? He hadn’t stood a chance.

Blood running from his chin to his forehead. He was not lying in grass, but the air was still somewhat damp and mouldy. He blinked a few horrified reddish tears away and shoved himself upright. The fish sandwich also decided it was time to get up and he wound up emptying the contents of his stomach all over the pavement. The wound on his leg was pouring out a decent puddle of its own, a slab like an uncooked steak was hanging on a few threads of skin, sagging just below his knee.

Trying not to look down at the stewing mess he gingerly drew the sword up from the ground and leaned against the wall and stared into the sky. Still dark. Probably a good sign, he had not been knocked out very long. Or maybe days had passed. Oh man, what about the flower shop? The night was moonless and now entirely black, covered in what looked like a single deep obsidian-black cloud. The wind had seemed very loud in the last moments he could remember. But other than his wheezing, there was silence now.

He held his breath and welled up the strength to lift his sword, raising it eye level. His ancestors were owed yet another apology. It came up with a swish. It was surprisingly light. Especially in his exhaustion. Light and flexible – not his sword. His eyes snapped open and the strange, squarish blade was now pointed at the wild eyed figure in front of him.

Old reflexes kicked in and he slid off along the wall. He also slid in he pool of vomit and took a while to regain balance. The dark face zoomed close with breath like fresh mulch. Two wide curious eyes gazed into him so deeply he believed he saw the reflection of the cloud and window behind him, and them himself. Not a pleasant sight.

He swore loudly and coughed.

The face drew back and it all seemed to tighten. Now at a distance, the eyes seemed mismatched an unfocused. The stranger wiped something in his own dark hair and muttered, “Wrong one, wrong one.” Then he started licking off his fingers the remains of whatever he had just tried to wipe.

Ritz lunged forward. He couldn’t quite manage a real attack, but it put off the stranger successfully enough. The dark haired man swung up his free hand and dipped back as if he were planning to slide under something. His raised hand was holding Ritz’s true sword.

“Whoa, haven’t you had enough for tonight?”

“Who are you?” Ritz barked. “And give that back.”

“Okay, fine. Just keeping it safe, you know, didn’t know if it was yours or hers.” He tipped the sword over and caught the blade with his fingertips as though handling a very delicate or poisonous animal. Then he held the handle to Ritz, who took it. He refused when Ritz struggled to turn the handle of the machete-like weapon to him in return. “That’s not mine. You can keep it. Yours looks like it’ll snap any day now.”

Ritz slumped against the wall with a sword in each hand.

He knew it already, but to have the words out in the open stung. He shook his head as if that would clear it. “So what are you… what were you doing here, Mr…”

“Mr…?” The strange eyed him. “I’m Val.”

“Mr. Val. Nobody is supposed to be here. So why were-”

“Just Val.”

“Just ANSWER ME.”

Val tapped his chin as though deep in thought and Ritz immediately knew he would not be getting the full story, that or something he did not currently have the energy to interpret. Sore bones be damned, he banged a fist against the wall behind him and Val hurried to attention.

“I heard around the neighborhood that you would be here so… well, I only heard your description. You see, I’m looking for someone and when I got here I saw-” There was the cutoff. “I thought you were someone I knew.”

“I don’t know you.”

“Yup.”

Ritz gazed around him. The cloud had slightly shifted above, he could see stars hovering above the edges of the church. He was on the paved path behind the building, below one of the crumbled walls, inlaid with a stained glass window showing no particular image.  The window was intact. The top of the broken wall was several meters up. If he’d fallen from there he probably would have died.

Val beamed at him “I pushed you.”

Ritz raised the hand with the lighter sword and rubbed his eyes.

“I wanted to help you. Like I said, I thought you were somebody else. Things didn’t look like they were going so well though.” Those mismatched eyes narrowed, though the face was still toting a smile. “So what were you trying to do with that woman in there? She didn’t seem too pleased to have you over.”

“Fuck, shut up.”

“Now that’s no way to thank someone.” Val tapped his chin again. “You were fighting her.”

“I lost.” Somehow, that one felt better once spoken.

“You sure did.” Val chuckled and Ritz felt something snap. He took a swipe at Val with the lighter sword, and almost caught him. Val staggered back happily. “Don’t feel too bad. You were doing alright, but there is something strange about her.”

“She’s still there?”

“Of course. You think I can do anything about her?” Val rolled his eyes. “You could probably do it though. I was rooting for you! I did think you were someone else, but, you know. Seemed like you were going to turn it around.”

“Oh.”

“You were holding back, too. I’m sure.” Val glanced at his awkward dual sword stance. Ritz tried to let it go.

“I don’t remember.”

“Well. Maybe next time.”

The prospect of a next time gave him a headache. But of course there would be a next time. There had to be. He turned away from the frustrating stranger and hit the wall again. And again and again with his fist. Val started whistling and the sound was possibly the most aggravating thing Ritz had ever encountered. So he stopped and soon Val did too. The silence also scraped his nerves.

“This was the 40th time.”

“Hm,” Val hummed, more accepting than questioning.

“There will be another time. But you should know. It’s been almost five years, and nothing has worked.”

“Why her?” Val asked.

“What?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be talking right outside her door,” Val corrected in a hurry.

“No. I can answer.” Ritz glared at the window above. “She can hear too. But she won’t come out. Anyway, she knows why. It’s for revenge.”

“Revenge, huh.” Val looked at the window too. “That’s nice. Almost dying 40 times for a cause, that’s the best reason. I’ll bet the desire gets stronger with each failure, that’s how it goes. No, that doesn’t make sense. It had to be something big to start it off.”

He was talking to himself. Ritz was glad he didn’t have to answer. He dragged himself onto his feet and after a few minutes, began stumbling back towards the entrance. His leg ached. Val skipped up to his side.

“This must be important to you.”

Ritz didn’t answer but it was true. In some way, it was good to hear it. It was important.

“You want to win. When’s your next…” Val mimed an exaggerated a struggle for the word.

“Challenge.”

“Challenge! Good one, that sounds very… cool. When is it? Your next challenge?”

Ritz glanced up. However the sky worked, the large looming cloud was back. “I have to check. Maybe soon. Maybe not.”

Val nodded in agreement with this non-answer. Then with a sideways glance he said, “Hey, you want to win, right? And you heard me. I want to see you win. Hell, I think you can. So how about… letting me lend a hand?”

Ritz stared at him and wondered what he’d really heard.

Val smiled broadly and enunciated. “I’ll help you win.”

Ritz shook his head. “There’s no way.”

“Listen to you. If this is so serious, why are you letting it drag on when there could be a solution right in front of you? You seem like a guy who doesn’t talk much, but I’ll tell you, there’s much to be had in letting people help. You do want to win, right?” Val leaned close and there was that mulchy odor again. “This woman did something to you – no it had to be to you and your friends, your family, your entire life – for you to go at this so long. Take it from me, you need to end it. I’ve only known you for…” A pause. “Not very long, and I know you can’t keep living like this.”

He gestured at the chunk of leg that had been taken out. Ritz was distracted from his scrutiny for lies. The wound was a huge black dent against his blue jumpsuit.

Val patted his shoulder. Ritz felt several more pats at the same time and realized his scarf, caked in blood, was slapping heavily against his back. He felt sick again.

“Take it easy for a while, though.” Val was smiling more pleasantly than ever, though the shadows were only allowing the bottom of his face to be illuminated. His teeth were specked with some brown dirt. “Like you, I can’t make any guarantees yet. Could be soon that I help you win. Or it could take a while. I know what you’re thinking. This guy can’t just be doing it out of kindness of the heart. He wants something. He’s gotta be… lying.”

To reach his gym bag, Ritz had to climb the front steps. A blast of pain shot from his leg to the base of his skull. Ritz heaved bile onto the pavement in front of the church. Val laughed like it was the best joke he’d ever heard. “Like I said, you look like someone I know. It’s been so long. Wonder how he’s doing now?”