Max Arena Page 9

  As the blonde continued to rant and rave at him, Max completed his set and then sprinted into the muscle ups station. Kris jogged across to the bar where Max was rhythmically pulling himself up and down and stood next to him.

  ‘Hey, you’re holding back,’ she said quietly. ‘Don’t.’

  Max dropped to the ground, his set finished.

  ‘Okay,’ he mumbled back without looking at her and launched away.

  Kris watched him turn the corner and go. Max’s first sprint had been awesome, but this time it was unbelievable. Kris froze in her tracks. Even fifty metres away, she could feel the vibrations in the ground as he tore across the grass. Goose bumps rose on her skin. If things had been surreal before, the strangeness had just ratcheted up to a whole new level.

  Max turned and sprinted back and without breaking stride, launched into his third set of hurdle squat jumps. By now, all ten competitors had stopped and were congregating in the middle of the circuit. Even the blonde had settled down and was sulkily watching the show. Some of them had even started to cheer Max on.

  ‘So much for the race?’ Elsa said.

  ‘He’s not done yet,’ Kris replied.

  ‘Is he getting faster?’ Elsa asked.

  ‘Like I said, he’s not done yet.’

  By now Max was into his last set of push ups and he’d even told the assistant to drop a second weight plate onto his back. Then he was into the clean and jerks and now instead of just springing up from the squat to stand, he was actually jumping with the barbell overhead.

  ‘Is he meant to be doing that?’ Elsa asked slowly.

  Kris didn’t reply, her attention fixed on Max, her eyes squinting. Then Max got stuck into his leaping lunges and instead of keeping the dumbbells down by his side as he leapt, he raised them out to the sides, arms straight and unwavering.

  Then he was sprinting away and into the burpees at station five. This time he did double handstand presses on each rep. After finishing them just as fast as the first round, Max powered into the rope pull station. With the weight pulled in the first time, instead of running the weight back out to the start point, Max picked it up with both hands and in an overhead throw, tossed it back out over the grass. With his foot on his end of the rope, he stopped the plate from dragging the rope away. Max then hauled it in again, and again, and seventeen more times, throwing the weight back out every time.

  Finally it was muscle up time again. Max made no variations to the exercise this time through, but his speed was simply incredible. No sooner was he dangling full length from the bar, he was then on top of the bar. Up. Down. Up. Down. No pause and at full speed.

  Dropping back to the ground, Max sprang straight into action. Kris stood waiting for him at the final turn before he started the full length sprints to the finish and caught his expression full on. It was all consuming. Max’s eyes were like lasers and his look sheer purpose. Just for a moment, as he ran towards her, Kris’ fears bubbled up. An unnatural spark glinted in those eyes, dangerous and raw and it deserved to be feared.

  ‘Better,’ was all she could say as he ran past, the breeze ruffling her hair.

  Max said nothing and looked up to fix his sights on the other end of the circuit as he bounded into the final sprint. Kris scanned the surroundings again. Not only had everyone stopped to watch, but they were now crowding in even closer. Kris could feel the energy around her. She could sense the heightened atmosphere. The air was thick with it.

  Looking back at Max, he was now full on pelting up the middle of the circuit, his former competitors all on their feet, except the blonde, shouting and clapping. Max roared past them and three seconds later, stabbed his feet into the grass to turn around at the end. As he turned, Max again revealed his face to Kris and there was that expression, still in place. All purpose. A chill sliced through her.

  Like a cheetah after a kill, Max powered immediately into top gear. Kris walked across to the finishing line and stood directly in his path. Even at one hundred metres, she could see him looking right at her, his blue eyes boring into her’s. As he ran, Max’s bulk grew in front of her. Kris could now feel him, his energy palpable, radiating off him like heat from the sun. She knew her eyes were wide open and her whole body tense. Larger and larger Max loomed, his solid musculature rippling and pumping as he charged onwards. It was a buzz. It was exhilarating.

  Then, at the last second, Max veered to the right and tore past her. Kris didn’t move, instead she let the wash of his slipstream flow over her. She closed her eyes and the thrill faded away. The show was over, for today at least. Kris had expected something special to happen, but this was beyond her imaginings. For the first time, Kris wondered if Max was truly human. Then a cry from over her shoulder brought her back to the present.

  ‘Choppers inbound!’ came a shout from the Prime Minister’s head of security.

  Instantly, Peter was in action, sprinting towards Max. ‘Get those birds airborne!’ he called out while pointing to the three Black Hawks, the flight crews scuttling into action. ‘Max, get the family into the house!’

  Max was already racing over to grab the kids off Elsa.

  ‘Kris!’ Elsa shouted. ‘Come with us!’

  Kris stood frozen for a moment.

  ‘Come on!’ Elsa shouted again as Max gathered both Millie and Jason up into his arms and turned for the house.

  Kris finally moved, bolting into the protection of the Dyson’s security detail, just as it enveloped them and started to move towards the house.

  ‘How close are they?’ Peter called out as he ran alongside his security team.

  ‘They’re already here!’ the Prime Minister’s security chief yelled back.

  Peter turned to look and found the man pointing to the south over the hilly bushland. Sure enough, three olive green Black Hawks had just risen over the top of the trees and were already bearing down on the estate, heading straight for the circuit.

  ‘Faster!’ Peter called out. ‘Get Sword and Shield to the house!’

  As a group, the Prime Minister’s security detail had virtually lifted Joe off the ground to start carrying him towards the house. Max, Elsa and the kids were sprinting too, Peter and his crew still surrounding them as they ran. Meanwhile, the Black Hawk air crews had abandoned any attempt at take-off and instead, along with every soldier on the grounds, retrieved their weapons and were busy positioning themselves around the immediate area to provide covering fire. House staff were running as fast as they could in any direction away from the incoming helicopters. It was pandemonium.

  Suddenly, a strange voice shouted out from behind the Dyson’s skeltering group. ‘Wait! They are friendly!’

  ‘Wait! Wait!’ Joe also called out. ‘They’re American!’

  Peter slowed and turned back to look up at the incoming aircraft, the sound of their chopping blades now very loud. He immediately checked the insignia on the sides and stopped running.

  ‘Hold up, fellahs!’ he called out. ‘Anchors, Max!’

  Max also slowed and turned. Both Millie and Jason craned their heads around their father’s body to look as well. Elsa stood behind Max’s right shoulder with Kris behind her. Peter stepped directly in front of Max, placing himself between the Dysons and the intruding aircraft. Peter’s team fanned out either side of him, shoulder to shoulder, the team now a human shield.

  ‘They’ve got stars and stripes on the side alright,’ the Prime Minister’s security chief called out, ‘but what’s that other badge?’

  Peter noticed a second insignia on the central chopper and looked a little harder. He then immediately turned to the Prime Minister, who was straightening himself up after being put back on the ground, his security detail still ringed closely around him, several of them with guns drawn.

  ‘Sir, is that what I think it is?’ Peter yelled across to Joe.

  ‘Yes, it is!’ Joe yelled back, his voice only just audible above the noise of the encroaching choppers.

  All three of the aircraft we
re now hovering off to the side of the circuit and Max got his first good look at them. Through the open cargo doors, he could see two of the Black Hawks were loaded with soldiers, mini guns bristling from both sides. The third, central helicopter had less people in it and contained what looked like civilians. Max also noted that the central helicopter bore a second insignia in addition to its standard US military single star and striped wings. The second insignia was colourful and intricate, but the words inscribed around its circumference were plain and clear.

  Max turned to Elsa and shouted, ‘I don’t care what that insignia says! I don’t trust any of this!’

  Peter turned and nodded to them both. By now, all three Blacks Hawks’ wheels were bumping onto the grass, their bulky bodies in neat triangular formation. A few moments later, the noise of the blades started to whine down as their engines shut off.

  Just then, Peter suddenly spun to his right and in the blink of an eye, had his handgun unholstered and in his hand, pointing it at a group of strangers that had come up between his team and the Prime Minister’s from behind. His entire security detail instantly followed suit, their own guns whipping out in unison.

  ‘Wait!’ Joe yelled. ‘They’re with me!’

  Max flicked his gaze around as well and found an odd group of five people. Four gigantic, suit-clad bodyguards all stood in a perfect square, their massive frames shielding a central figure all together different to them. An Arab. The central figure stood calmly and without any indication of anxiousness considering the knuckle-whitening tension all around. The Arab’s face was the only skin Max could see, the man’s eyes hidden behind sunglasses and his hands folded in front of him within the generous sleeves of his flowing, white robe, which billowed fluidly in the breeze from the slowing rotors.

  ‘Who is he, sir?’ Peter called out.

  ‘A friend!’ Joe called back. ‘You can trust him!’

  At first Peter did not move, his gun trained unwaveringly on the group. Then he slowly lowered it and without reholstering, turned back to the now stationery Black Hawks. ‘Eyes back on the birds, fellahs!’ he ordered his crew, who all followed his example.

  Then, soldiers poured out from the three US Army Black Hawks to fan out in crouched positions surrounding the aircraft, each of them holding a machine gun and aiming it in the direction of an Australian soldier. A stand-off ensued.

  ‘Put ‘em away, boys!’ called out a drawling American accent.

  Max shifted his gaze to the central helicopter and found a silver-haired, middle-aged man climbing out. The man was a little shaky and ungainly, but as soon as he got both his feet on the ground, his posture squared up and Max could tell he was a figure of authority. He also recognised the man and despite his high office, Max did not feel in the slightest bit honoured to be confronted with the approach of the President of the United States.

  ‘Joe, is that you?’ the President called out, waving as he approached the Prime Minister.

  ‘Yes, Lester it is,’ Joe called back while stepping out from the cover of his security detail, his chief slotting in step behind him. ‘This is a surprise. You know you really should have called first?’

  ‘Sorry about that,’ the President drawled back, presenting his hand. The two men shook firmly, but even from where Max stood, he could feel the triteness behind the greeting. ‘I didn’t think you’d mind me dropping in while I was passing through. Our trip to China got cut a little short by all this alien baloney and well, your place is on the way home and a little bird told me you’ve got the world’s most mysterious man in your stables, literally by the looks of it,’ the President said holding his arms out wide in reference to the stud estate, ‘so I just had to stop by.’

  ‘Always a pleasure to have you here, Lester,’ Joe said, slipping easily into his renowned diplomacy skill set. ‘By the way, happy fourth of July. Pity it’s not happier.’

  ‘You got that right, Joe. The whole world’s gone crazy and why do we have to find out like this that we aren’t alone in the universe? Why couldn’t ET really be a friendly little pug like Hollywood said?’

  ‘Does it ever turn out like Hollywood said?’

  ‘No. No it doesn’t, but there is one thing that’s sure as hell Hollywood about this and that’s the hero. Where is he, Joe? Where’s our mystery man?’

  ‘He’s here. In fact, he was just giving us a display of his prowess and I have to say, Lester, based on what I just witnessed, I highly doubt there is anyone more skilled than he to fight for our lives. He just blew away the Australian Army’s finest and hardly raised a sweat.’

  ‘Well, that might be something, Joe, but if we’re really going to test him, let’s put him up against my rangers and seals. See who walks away taller. Now where is he?’

  ‘He’s right here,’ Joe said, turning and holding a hand out to Max.

  ‘You mean that guy there. If he’s so good, why’s he hiding?’

  Max put the kids down and they scurried around to Elsa. Max then made to step out from behind the security detail, but Peter put a hand up first.

  ‘Stay put, Max,’ he ordered. ‘Let the President in, fellahs.’

  Max held his place and the security detail opened out a little as the Prime Minister and the President approached.

  ‘Mister President,’ Joe said, ‘I’d like to introduce Max Dyson, his wife Elsa and their two children Millie and Jason. Max, Elsa, this is President Bartholomew, the forty-fifth President of the United States of America.’

  President Bartholomew waited for Max to hold out his hand, but he didn’t and then after an awkward pause, President Bartholomew finally held out his own hand. Max took it and the handshake was firm. The President looked him hard in the eye and Max returned the scrutiny.

  ‘Hmm, you’re a big fellah,’ the President said, withdrawing his hand and looking Max up and down, ‘but what makes you so special, Max? Why have these aliens come from God knows where in the universe to threaten us and pluck you out of six billion people to defend us?’

  ‘With all due respect, Mister President,’ Max replied, his voice even and his return gaze firm, ‘you don’t need to know that.’

  The President squinted, his pale blue eyes unyielding. ‘I think you’re wrong, son. I deserve to know everything. If you step into that arena, you’ll be defending me and the whole United States as well as yourself, so we can either go inside and talk this over all civilised like or if you want we can stand right out here in the open. I don’t care, but before I leave, I’ll have my questions answered.’

  Max did not move. The President’s face hardened.

  ‘Excuse me, President Bartholomew,’ sounded a new voice, its accent exotic and rich. The Arab broke from his security detail, removed his sunglasses and approached Max, Joe and the President, his hands appearing from his sleeves, his right hand extended, palm upwards. ‘It has been too long since last we spoke.’

  President Bartholomew dragged his stare away from Max and found the Arab coming over to him. Peter adjusted his stance and Max noticed in the background, a cohort of soldiers shifted the aims of their machine guns to the robed newcomer.

  ‘We’ve met before?’ the President asked, none too kindly.

  ‘Only over the phone,’ the Arab replied, ‘when your F-22 Raptor crashed in our central desert last February.’

  ‘How did you know about that?’ the President quipped back.

  ‘Because the central desert is the ancestral home to my people, the Balasti Bedouin. It also narrowly missed crashing into my desert palace.’

  The President baulked. ‘Your palace...?’ the President vaguely repeated.

  ‘I am Abdullah bin Mohammed bin Salahuddin, ruler and Sheikh of the Emirate of Balasti,’ the Arab said patiently, bowing his head slightly. ‘At your service.’

  The President baulked again. All eyes settled on him and he knew it as he flicked a sideways glance at Joe.

  ‘Good to meet you in person,’ the President finally said, methodically extending his o
wn hand, which Sheikh Abdullah warmly accepted. ‘Funny seeing you here?’

  Sheikh Abdullah smiled and lowered his gaze slightly. ‘It is I who am honoured to meet you in person,’ he said smoothly. ‘You have displayed tremendous wisdom and leadership in your relatively short time in office. As for my presence here, I too have surprised our good friend Joe by arriving unannounced late yesterday evening for the same purpose as you. Mister Dyson has garnered enormous interest and I came offering my help and resources to assist Joseph in preparing Mister Dyson for the ordeal ahead. After all, as you have so delicately pointed out, Mister Dyson holds the fate of us all in his hands and if I can humbly help in any way, that is the least I and my people can do. No doubt your intentions are equal?’

  The President held his tongue and cast another sideways glance to Joe. The Prime Minister said nothing and merely returned the look, a half smile on his lips.

  ‘Yes,’ the President finally answered. ‘I’m here to help, but I mean it when I say I want some answers.’ President Bartholomew then turned to face Max and continued. ‘I need to be convinced that this fellah is capable of fighting off whatever God-awful aliens come down into that arena. I’ve got the finest soldiers in the world cooling their heels back in the states that could probably beat this guy hands down, so before I leave, he’s going to have to prove he’s got what it takes.’

  Max stood impassive, his blue eyes bright and hard.

  ‘Then may I boldly make a suggestion, Mister President?’ Sheikh Abdullah asked, his tone soft.

  Joe turned to look at the Arab, his smile fading and the corners of his eyes creasing slightly.

  ‘What?’ President Bartholomew virtually barked.

  ‘We have just witnessed Mister Dyson’s physical prowess in completing the obstacle course behind you and though I can honestly say it was highly impressive, I too share your concerns about his combat ability.’

  ‘What do you suggest?’ President Bartholomew said, his eyes narrowing as he shifted his attention to the Arab.

  ‘Select the finest fifteen of your soldiers and secret service that are with you here,’ Sheikh Abdullah replied, fluidly raising his right hand towards the fanned out US Army personnel, ‘and let us pit Mister Dyson against them in a challenge?’