Change of Heart by S.E. Edwards

around. Rich is positioned about ten feet away, his hands up defensively, his knees bent. Rich is the taller of the two, but I would never have bet on him in this fight. Victor must outweigh him by at least eighty pounds.
    Victor picks up a chair and hurls it at Rich. Rich ducks under its path. It collides with another stack of chairs behind him, sending them all toppling to the floor.
    “Come now,” Rich taunts in a low voice. “Is that all you’ve got?”
    Enraged, Victor roars again and barrels toward Rich. At that moment, I’m reminded of a linebacker with a clear lane to sack the quarterback. Rich surprises me with his quickness. He kicks up a stool just before Victor reaches him, then curls to the side and slams it hard against Victor’s back. The stool shatters. Pieces flew everywhere.
    The blow sends the bigger man staggering a few steps. When he turns around, there’s bloodlust in his eyes. “I’m going to kill you,” he promises Rich. “And when I’m done, I’m going to go back and rape that slut sister of yours.” He smiles through his thick beard. “In fact, I think I might keep you alive long enough to watch, yes? Just so you can hear her scream.”
    Rich doesn’t answer. Victor reaches to his belt. My heart leaps to my throat when I see him pull out a large hunting knife. Rich has no chance against an armed man Victor’s size—not without a weapon of his own.
    Not a flicker of fear shows on Rich’s face. Only grim determination.
    Never taking his eyes off Victor, he kneels down and picks up a broken leg of the stool. The piece of wood isn’t much longer than Victor’s knife. He might as well be fighting with a pillow for all the advantage it gives him.
    This time, Victor approaches Rich slowly. Rich steps sideways, and the two men start circling each other in the clearing they made. Victor continues his taunts, but Rich does not respond. He just watches the big man, cautious, wary.
    Without warning, Victor lunges forward and stabs at Rich’s body. Rich steps aside and hits Victor’s extended arm away, letting the large man’s momentum carry him forward. With a flick of the wrist, Rich’s wooden rod comes up, and catches Victor in the mouth. I hear a sickening crunch.
    Victor falls against a table. He spits out a mouthful of blood, then picks himself up and spins around, swinging his knife wildly. The blade catches nothing but air. Rich is already a safe distance away.
    Rich and Victor begin to circle one another again. It’s like watching two feral cats, each searching for a weakness in the other. Victor tries another slash, aimed at Rich’s face. Rich swoops beneath it. He slams his makeshift weapon into Victor’s knees. Victor cries out in a mixture of pain and rage.
    I don’t know where Rich learned to fight, but I decide that I’d underestimated him before. Even without a real weapon, he’s more than a match for Victor.
    As Victor scrambles up again, the blood making a nasty red stain where his mouth should be, I also decide that now is my best chance to slip away unseen.
    I crouch low and start to make my way from table to table, keeping to the outside of the room. The sounds of the fight continue. Mostly it’s just Victor’s heavy breathing, interrupted every so often by a curse, or a grunt, or another roar. I take that as a good sign. It means that Rich still has the upper hand.
    I creep from table to table, quick as a rabbit. Soon, I’m at the last table before the doors. They’re at the end of a short corridor. But, there’s a problem: There’s nowhere for me to take cover between here and there.
    My only chance is to make a run for it. I peek over the tabletop to where the men are fighting. They’re still focused on each other. But if I stand and run, I’d be dangerously exposed. Even if I get outside, I don’t know how far my still-frozen limbs can carry me. I don’t even know where this bar is.
    I duck down, considering my options. The grunts and noises of the