He hefted the gloves. “Weighted?”
“Uh-huh.” Miguel nodded. “Buckshot.” He gave a lazy grin. “Can’t use it for anything else, might as well put it to good use.”
“Jesus, Garza!” Kevin sounded appalled.
“What?” He shrugged. “You’re a decent guy, but you’re a bit of a pansy, McArdle. Good as she is, Loup’s green. She’s gonna step in that ring without ever having had a real match. That can’t be helped. I can’t give her one, and neither can you. This might help level things.”
“It’s worth a try,” Floyd said. “But you’ll wear yourself out right quick trying to box in those things, son.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll still have McArdle.” Miguel shrugged again and took the gloves back. “If you ask me, we oughta take Loup outta the headgear a few times.” He hoisted the gloves. “Let me work her over with these, get in some good, solid shots. She needs to know what it’s like to get hit and hit hard.”
“Jesus, Garza!”
“What do you think?” the coach asked Loup.
She thought about the first time she’d sparred with Miguel and how it had thrown her off her game once she’d let him land a solid shot on her. It didn’t bother her anymore—she’d grown far too disciplined—but Ron Johnson would hit a hell of a lot harder than Kevin or Miguel. “It can’t hurt.”
“Sure it can.” Miguel grinned. “That’s the point.”
Floyd nodded. “We’ll try it.”
They put the plan into action the following Wednesday. After Loup went a brisk three rounds with Kevin McArdle concentrating on strategy, Floyd unfastened her headgear and laced Miguel into the weighted gloves.
“God have mercy,” he muttered, glancing at Loup. “I’m going so far out on a limb here, you might as well call me a squirrel.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s have one clean round.”
It was different, but not all that different. She could feel the extra weight when she caught Miguel’s punches, that was all.
“Break!” The coach sighed. “All right, if we’re going to do it, let’s do it. Loup, on my say-so, pretend Miguel catches you off guard. Miguel, hit her with a combination. Go!”
They circled warily, trading blows.
“Now!”
Miguel went straight for her head, throwing two right jabs and a left cross. The pain was explosive. Loup held her ground and kept her guard up. Through the bloodred tide of pain and the dazzling brightness bursting in her head, she sensed Miguel moving in on her. She bobbed instinctively, feeling a breeze as his right hand soared past her left ear. Miguel grunted. She ducked her chin and began pounding his torso with hooks.
“Break!”
Loup squinted at the coach, realizing her left eye was already swelling. He looked back at her, mildly horrified. “Was that okay?”
“Yes.” Floyd cleared his throat. “Um… yes. Let’s call it a day. Loup, I’ll get you an ice pack.”
“Okay. Can we try it again next time?”
He looked at her and sighed. “God have mercy.”
Afterward, Miguel invited her to join him on the rooftop, acting as though he’d never been away. They sat in companionable silence, Miguel smoking a cigar, Loup holding an ice pack to her face.
“So,” he said eventually. “Sorry about that, kid.”
“Hitting me? You were supposed to.”
“Bailing on you.” He puffed on his cigar. “I kinda took myself by surprise that night. Guess I got some weird feelings about you.”
Loup lowered the ice pack. “Yeah, well, that vulnerable thing’s a little pervy, Mig.”
“I know.” He pointed at the ice pack. “Put it back. Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off.”
She pressed it to her face.
Miguel smoked. “So is our deal still good?”
“You gonna keep your end of it?”
He grinned. “You want me to hit you some more, huh?”
“Yeah, I do.” Loup looked curiously at him over the edge of the ice pack. “Do you get off on it, Mig?”
“Nah.” He shifted, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Not exactly. I mean, I do get off on fighting in a way. You know?”
She nodded. “I know.”
“So in that way, yeah.” Miguel flexed his hands. “I like hitting. It feels good. And you’re so goddamned hard to hit, it feels really good. But I know it’s bullshit, too. Like my father wanting to be a big man. He couldn’t of done fuck-all in this town if the army didn’t let him. I couldn’t lay a fucking glove on you in the ring if you didn’t let me. I’m not my father. I know the difference.”
“Okay.”
He glanced at her. “Would it matter?”
“If you got off on it?” Loup shrugged. “Might make me feel like I needed a shower.”
Miguel laughed. “God, you’re a weird kid!”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I heard your girl’s moved in with Rory Salamanca,” he said. “You talk to her?”
Loup shook her head. “No.”
“Too bad.” He smoked in silence for a while. “I been thinking about what you said before.”
“About Pilar?”
“About winning a ticket out of here, you little freak.” Miguel met her eyes. “Look… I can’t promise anything. I don’t even know what the hell’s out there or if anyone gives a flying fuck about us. But if it happens, I’ll try, okay?”
She lowered the ice pack, eyes shining. “Seriously? Seriously, Mig?”
“Yeah, seriously.” His tone was gruff. “Back with the ice, Loup.”
“Thanks, Miguel.”
“Shut up.”
“Okay.”
FORTY-FOUR
Loup got used to getting hit hard.
The coach didn’t like it, but he allowed it—at least enough times that the pain and the effects of the impact no longer came as a shock. If it happened in the ring, she’d be ready for it. Once Floyd was satisfied of that fact, he insisted that they cut back on using the weighted gloves.
“I’m worried about long-term damage, child,” he said.
Loup shrugged. “I’m not exactly planning on a long-term life, sir.”
“You don’t know that.” Floyd pointed at her. “I understand why you’re doing this, and you understand why I’m helping you. But you’re too young to give up hope. You’ve no idea where your life might lead you.”
“What do you think they’ll do to me?” she asked.
He was silent for a long moment. “I can’t say for sure. I wish I knew. No doubt they’ll study you, run tests on you. In time, I imagine they’d like to recruit you. But…” His voice trailed off.
“But what?”
“It’s the Santa Olivia business that troubles me. She may be gone, but believe me, she’s not forgotten.” Floyd frowned. “As the day draws nearer, I wonder if we might not be wise to rethink the date.”
“Reschedule? Why?”
“You got under their skin when you pulled those stunts, child. I’ll tell you the one thing Bill Argyle fears more than anything else, and that’s having a full-fledged insurrection in this town. He’d have to put it down and put it down hard. It would be ugly.”
“So that’s the one thing the general fears more than anything else, huh?” Loup said softly. “More than El Segundo?”
The coach didn’t answer.
“There isn’t any El Segundo, is there?” She studied him. “How come we’re here? How come they put up the walls and built the bases?”
“It was a time of terrible fear and rampant death,” Floyd said in a gentle tone. “When the pandemic began to spread, Mexico was hit hard. People fled over the border, carrying sickness. Sometimes there was violence.”
“So they built the walls to keep them out? Why not just say so?”
“I suppose it sounded… callous.” He glanced at Loup’s uncertain face. “Cruel, heartless. And there were raids, though not on the scale they claimed. But it was easier to convince people to go along with it if they believed there was a vast plot against the nation.” His mouth twisted. “Hordes of desperate brown people clamoring to invade the Southwest and take over our hospitals by force.”
“Oh.” Loup thought about it. “So are we at war with Mexico, or not?”
Floyd didn’t answer for a moment. “Not officially, no. Let us say that the legend of El Segundo began as a useful fiction with some faint basis in fact. But that was a long time ago, and it has long since become a charade used to justify radical actions that should have been rectified years ago.”
Loup blinked. “What does that have to do with me pretending to be Santa Olivia?”
“It does and it doesn’t.” Floyd sighed. “Child, Bill Argyle’s not a bad man, but he’s part of a very bad enterprise. I do believe he’s torn. There’s a part of him would like to see this edifice cracked open. That’s why he offered a ticket north to any fighter who could win a prize match. And there’s a part of him that’s scared to see it happen, because some very bad things have been done in the name of protecting this country, and it’s going to be an unholy scandal if and when the truth comes out. That’s why he sabotaged the one fighter I told him could do it.”
“Okay.” She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant.
“What he doesn’t want is to have it happen here.” He pointed at the floor. “Not in Outpost, not on his watch. When you pulled that Santa Olivia business, he was terrified that the town would rally behind whoever was responsible for it, and he’d be forced to put down a full-scale insurrection. Against a bunch of unarmed civilians, it would have been a goddamned bloodbath, and it would have been mighty hard to keep a lid on that kind of atrocity. It’s always galled him that he couldn’t get to the bottom of it. So when you ask me what they’ll do to you, I don’t know. The revelation of your existence is going to open up the proverbial can of worms. They’re going to want to know if it was part of a widespread conspiracy. They’re going to want to know who else was involved. They’re going to question you. Hard.”