Damascus Road by Charlie Cole

stepped
into the middle of the group, letting them surround me. I shook my head slowly.
    “I want you to kill me,” I said.
    “You want to fake your death?” asked Slick.
    I’d had enough. There was no way to explain what I wanted.
They’d never understand and if they did, they would never agree to it.
    “Not exactly,” I said, looking at my shoes.
    I turned and punched Slick. His head snapped back and he reeled
at the attack. Joe was on me a moment later. He threw a quick combination that
I bobbed and weaved around before snapping a jab that bloodied his nose.
    “Come on!” I yelled.
    Hector kicked me in the small of the back and I pitched
forward. I caught my feet and turned back, only to be hit with a right hook. I
tumbled with it and fell into Slick, who kneed me in the stomach. I fell to my
knees.
    I knew then… it wasn’t enough. They wouldn’t finish the job.
I had to push them harder.
    “Let’s go, Slick,” I growled.
    I came up under him with a punch to the groin, jackrabbit
punch to ribs and elbow under the chin. He fell hard, but I had no time for
him.
    Joe came at me with his guard up, feet floating in boxer’s
footwork.
    “Let’s go, bitch,” I growled at him.
    He came at me hard. I took a jab to the nose and felt it
break. The right cross hit me in the eye and drove me back. Joe closed the gap
and threw a haymaker to finish me. I lowered my head, and his fist crashed into
the top of my skull. It rung my bell a bit, but Joe’s wrist snapped with a
sharp crack. He cursed and instinctively grabbed it. I kicked him in the
stomach and shoved him away.
    Madness had flooded my mind and a fear that I would beat the
three men in my cell. I felt the blood running from my nose and it incensed me
even more. It was not enough.
    “I want to see my father and I want to see him right now!” I
shouted.
    I leapt off the floor and hit Joe with a flying roundhouse
punch. He sprawled on the floor. I lunged for him, only to be intercepted by
Slick, his hand snatching at my collar. I grabbed his fingers and twisted up,
breaking two of them. I could have finished him with a punch to the throat, but
instead rammed my fist up under his ribs. Slick hunched over and threw up like
a rancid fire hydrant.
    Pathetic, I thought. I couldn’t even get myself killed in
jail. Slick was on his hands and knees, retching. I kicked him and he collapsed
on his side.
    I never did see Hector coming, but his fist smashed into the
side of my face, and my world tilted crazily as I fell. The edges of my vision
dimmed. I tried to get up. I lifted my head, tasted blood. Hector’s foot came
down on my face and I actually saw the print of the tread of his boot before it
hit me.
    Despite myself, I tried to cover up, only to have a foot
come down on my shoulder. I felt the joint give, then pop as the bone slipped
from the socket. I screamed and opened my eyes to see not only Hector, but
Slick and Joe raining kicks and punches down on me.
    I laughed out loud as they beat me, right up until the point
that I passed out. Darkness sucked me down into unconsciousness, and I did not
fight it.
     
    MY BRAIN WAS THROBBING; I was
convinced of it. I wanted to open my eyes, but the pounding intensity of the
light was prohibitive. Instead, I listened and waited. For nearly a minute I
let the thought of getting up play through my mind, but the ache of my body was
so strong that it bordered on paralysis.
    “You awake?” a voice said.
    I grunted the affirmative.
    “Need a doctor?”
    Groaning, I opened my eyes and raised a finger.
    Wait.
    Sucking in breath, I sat up. The world spun and tilted and
swayed. Nausea surged up through me and I nearly lost the battle. I swallowed
hard.
    Across the room, I saw a police officer in full uniform. I
sighed.
    “I take it you’re not the Prince of Darkness,” I said. “And
this isn’t Hell?”
    The cop snorted, stifled a laugh. He choked, coughed, and
struggled to regain his composure. He looked like he wasn’t