First Horseman, The Read Online Free PDF Page B

not to look aghast, but failed.

11
    The real-tennis court echoed to the grunts of Jim’s physical exertion and the thumping of staccato steps on the floor mats. His fists made slapping, squeaking sounds on the receiving gloves of his coach. He was sweating profusely.
    ‘Stop,’ said the coach.
    Jim straightened.
    ‘Very good, you showed a lot of speed there.’
    Jim grimaced. ‘Trouble is, Pat, I don’t feel I’m making any progress.’
    ‘You’re doing fine. You learn fast.’
    ‘But it’s not real, it’s just play-fighting.’
    Pat pursed his lips. ‘It’s close enough.’
    ‘I need to do it without this head guard on, under real conditions.’
    Pat drew a breath. ‘But you’ll get hurt.’
    ‘Pat, I’m not doing this to look cool. I’m doing it for my own protection.’
    ‘I know. You said.’
    ‘I’d have you punch the lights out of me but I can’t take it to the side. I’m all screwed up there.’
    ‘I remember you telling me so.’
    ‘But I have to be able to react in a real situation, against real blows, under real pain. I need to be able to respond properly if I get into trouble. I need to practise on something that’s as real as possible.’
    Pat was blanking him. ‘You’ll be fine,’ he said, smiling gently.
    ‘Look!’ said Jim, pulling up his shirt in frustration. ‘I can’t afford to get any more messed up.’
    He watched his coach recoil. His right side might have been chewed up by some large and ferocious animal. He dropped his shirt, bowed and parted his hair, showing a long scar across his scalp. ‘I’ve been in a fair amount of trouble,’ he said, ‘and next time I don’t want to rely on luck to keep me alive.’
    Next time? Pat had looked Jim up on the Internet: he was some kind of retired super-rich, boy-genius banker – but something had messed him up good and proper.
    ‘You don’t have to kill me,’ said Jim. ‘You can pull your punches a little.’
    Pat started to take off his focus pads. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘but don’t ever say you didn’t ask me nicely to beat you senseless.’
    ‘Brilliant,’ said Jim.
    Pat looked doubtful. ‘I’ll be putting my head guard on and you’ll be keeping your gloves.’
    ‘Sure,’ said Jim.
    Pat returned with his head guard in place and a pair of practice boxing gloves on. ‘I’m not messing up my knuckles on your face,’ he said, waving his right hand at Jim.
    Jim smiled. ‘OK,’ he said, and put in a mouth guard.
    ‘Are you ready?’ said Pat, sounding reluctant.
    Jim nodded, crouched, and began to weave.
    Pat kicked his legs out from under him, then towered over him ready to land a punch.
    Jim rolled away and up. In that moment he had felt what it was like to stand up against a world-class fighter. Pat’s speed was breathtaking. And Jim was paying to be trained by the best. ‘You should have hit me,’ he said. ‘Punish my mistakes … Well, punish them a bit, OK?’
    Pat moved towards him. Jim could see he was going for a grapple, so he fended off the grab with his left hand and tried to land a punch with his right. Pat’s head seemed to fall out of the way of his blow and Jim hopped off.
    Jim’s concentration was intense, adrenalin coursing through his body. In a split second he saw Pat consider several moves. He was going to fire a shot at Jim’s temple so Jim shot a blow to his stomach. He felt it was the wrong move as it went off, so he twisted to avoid Pat’s jab, which seemed to come in slow. Jim’s punch was heavy, given extra energy by his turn. It was a contact that scored hard. With better poise he could have fired off another shot, but he needed to hop back into balance first.
    Suddenly he felt a sharp blow to his left eye and a cuff to the other side of his skull. He was instantly confused and falling.
    Pat was looking down at him.
    ‘Nice one,’ said Jim, weakly, shaking his head.
    ‘Not so bad yourself,’ said Pat, and pulled Jim to his feet.
    ‘That was great,’ said Jim, trying