Phoenix Island 01: Phoenix Island by John Dixon

Author:John Dixon [Dixon, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Dystopian
ISBN: 9781476738635
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2014-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

CARL FREEMAN,” STARK SAID, leading Carl through the curtain into the main hangar later that evening, “meet the dojo.”

Carl beamed. The dojo was huge. An elevated boxing ring sat at the far end. Along the walls Carl saw speed bags, heavy bags, double-end bags, and all kinds of training equipment: jump ropes, headgear, and laced gloves hanging from hooks; stacks of medicine balls, kicking shields, and punch mitts; and racks of what looked like wooden swords.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you really smile,” Stark said.

“What? Oh . . .” Carl walked a few steps deeper into the room, taking it in.

Stark said, “The ring must seem like an old friend.”

“It sure does,” Carl said. Even with everything that had happened, it was a rush being in a gym again, and nothing brought it home more than the sight of the elevated ring and its red, white, and blue ropes.

“Go ahead. Climb up and check it out.”

Carl thanked him, crossed the room, and ascended the short steps to the ring apron. He slipped through the ropes and into the ring, and his whole body thrilled to feel it surround him—the turnbuckles, the taut ropes, the subtle give of the flooring—as if the ring had scooped him into an embrace.

He shook out his arms, did a couple of deep knee bends, and then started circling. The padding was good, soft beneath his feet but not too soft, and the floorboards greeted him with familiar creaking and thumping as he glided over them. He tested the ropes on all four sides. They were a bit tighter than he preferred. You put a guy on tight ropes like these, a good counterpuncher could use that extra bounce, really crack you if you weren’t careful.

“You like?” Stark stood on the floor beside the ring, looking like a professional wrestler ready to come through the ropes.

“It’s perfect,” Carl said, and he shuffled toward the center of the ring, where he picked up his traditional rocking motion—forward and back, forward and back, side to side—flicked out a light six-punch combination, and quarter-pivoted. Out of the pivot, he bobbed into a squat, launched a stronger combination, and pivoted again.

It was amazing. There was no pain. Stark was right about Vispera. Psycho or not, the guy was a miracle worker.

After a minute of shadowboxing, he could feel his new muscles cooperating and knew with a little practice he’d have all his speed back and a lot more power. He shoe-shined a flurry of light, fast uppercuts, shook out his arms, and came to the ropes near Stark. “Thanks for this. I mean, it feels awesome to be back in the ring again.”

“It’s my pleasure. I respect skill, and I have a deep interest in combat. It seems like you’ve recovered pretty well from your injuries.”

Carl laughed. It felt great, being well again, moving in the ring, no one making fun of him, egging him on. He wondered when he would have to go back to camp and face Parker.

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