Sixty Seconds
The challenge happened an hour later.
Not because Luke changed his mind.
Because Carter Voss refused to let the matter die.
Luke was outside Hangar Two checking the air pressure on one of his truck tires when Noah came running toward him.
"You need to come inside."
"No."
"You don't even know what I was going to say."
"I know."
Noah bent over, breathing hard.
"Carter says you're scared."
Luke continued checking the tire.
"He can say whatever he wants."
"He said you walked away because you knew you'd lose."
Luke tightened the valve cap.
"He can say that too."
Noah looked frustrated.
"You really don't care?"
"No."
"Not even a little?"
Luke stood.
"No."
Noah stared at him.
Luke finally smiled.
"That's why you're frustrated."
Noah sighed.
"He's getting everybody to laugh."
Luke looked toward the hangar.
"That's what people do when they want attention."
"He's making fun of you."
"Then he's doing a good job."
Noah shook his head.
"You're impossible."
"I've heard that."
They started walking back.
Inside, Carter was in the middle of another demonstration.
But the moment he saw Luke, he stopped.
"There he is."
The crowd turned.
Carter grabbed the microphone.
"Mr. Mercer."
Luke kept walking.
"Apparently our friend doesn't understand the rules."
The announcer laughed.
Carter continued.
"You don't have to be a fighter. You don't have to be young. You don't even have to be athletic."
He pointed toward the mat.
"You just have to survive sixty seconds."
The crowd cheered.
Luke stopped.
Noah looked at him.
"Don't."
Luke said nothing.
Carter smiled.
"Unless you're afraid."
Luke looked around the room.
Hundreds of people were watching.
Some were amused.
Some curious.
Some already expecting him to lose.
Then Luke noticed something else.
The volunteer Carter had thrown earlier was sitting near the medical station.
His left shoulder was being examined by an EMT.
Luke walked toward him.
"You hurt?"
The man looked embarrassed.
"Just a little."
Luke glanced at the shoulder.
"Can you move your fingers?"
"Yeah."
"Good."
Carter watched.
"What are you doing?"
Luke ignored him.
"Don't let them talk you into standing again."
The volunteer nodded.
Luke turned.
Carter had stopped smiling.
"You done?"
Luke looked at the mat.
Then at the clock.
"Sixty seconds?"
Carter grinned.
"That's all."
Luke removed his denim jacket.
The crowd reacted.
Underneath was a gray T-shirt.
Nothing impressive.
No scars displayed deliberately.
No muscles flexed.
No dramatic preparation.
He simply removed his boots.
Then his watch.
He handed both to Noah.
"Hold these."
Noah's eyes widened.
"You really are doing this?"
Luke nodded.
"Apparently."
Carter climbed onto the mat.
The announcer raised the microphone.
"Give it up for Luke Mercer!"
The applause was mixed.
Some people cheered because they loved an underdog.
Others laughed because they already knew how it would end.
Carter stood across from Luke.
"Last chance."
Luke looked at him.
"Start the clock."
The announcer lifted his hand.
"Ready!"
The crowd leaned forward.
"Go!"
Carter exploded.
His first step was faster than Luke expected.
Not because Luke had underestimated him.
Because Luke had spent years watching men move differently when they believed they were about to hurt somebody.
Carter threw a fast right hand.
Luke slipped.
Not backward.
Forward.
The punch passed behind his ear.
The crowd gasped.
Carter immediately followed with a left hook.
Luke turned his shoulder.
The glove brushed fabric.
Carter grinned.
"Nice."
Luke said nothing.
Carter attacked again.
This time Luke moved sideways.
No wasted motion.
No panic.
Just enough.
Carter threw a low kick.
Luke checked it.
The impact made a loud slap.
The crowd went silent.
Carter's eyes changed.
Luke had checked the kick perfectly.
"Twenty seconds!" the announcer shouted.
Carter rushed forward.
Luke backed toward the edge.
Carter tried to trap him.
Luke pivoted.
Suddenly Carter was the one near the edge.
The crowd reacted.
Carter swung.
Luke ducked.
Carter's glove missed.
Luke touched Carter's shoulder and moved away.
Not a strike.
A message.
I can reach you.
Carter's face hardened.
He charged.
Luke stepped aside.
Carter stumbled.
The crowd exploded.
Someone shouted:
"He's dancing!"
Another:
"Truck driver got wheels!"
Carter turned red.
He rushed again.
Luke let him.
At the last moment, he caught Carter's wrist.
One step.
A turn.
A simple redirection.
Carter hit the mat on his back.
The sound was not loud.
But the reaction was.
The entire hangar seemed to inhale at once.
Luke released him immediately.
Carter rolled to his feet.
The announcer stared at the clock.
"Forty-one seconds!"
Carter charged again.
Luke moved.
Carter missed.
Luke moved again.
The crowd began counting.
"Fifteen!"
Carter grabbed.
Luke slipped.
"Ten!"
Carter swung.
Luke ducked.
"Five!"
Carter lunged.
Luke stepped out.
"Four!"
Carter turned.
"Three!"
Luke raised both hands.
"Two!"
Carter stopped.
"One!"
The buzzer sounded.
The hangar erupted.
Luke stepped back.
He had not thrown a single meaningful strike.
Carter stood frozen.
Luke picked up his boots.
The announcer shouted:
"HE DID IT!"
Noah was laughing.
Truckers were clapping.
Someone yelled:
"Fourteen-zero versus forty-eight-and-zero!"
Carter looked furious.
Luke put his boots back on.
Carter approached.
"You got lucky."
Luke nodded.
"Probably."
Carter stared at him.
"Who taught you?"
Luke looked toward Noah.
"No one."
"Nobody moves like that without training."
Luke shrugged.
"I've moved around dangerous things for a long time."
Carter laughed bitterly.
"You're not a fighter."
"No."
"What are you?"
Luke picked up his jacket.
"A truck driver."
He walked away.
But this time, Carter followed.
"Wait."
Luke stopped.
Carter's voice was lower.
"You embarrassed me."
Luke turned.
"I didn't say anything."
"You made me look stupid."
"You did that yourself."
Several people nearby went quiet.
Carter stepped closer.
Luke did not move.
"Listen carefully," Carter said. "You got sixty seconds because I let you."
Luke's face remained calm.
"Okay."
"You think that's funny?"
"No."
"Then why are you smiling?"
"I'm not."
Carter clenched his jaw.
For one second, Luke saw the anger behind the performance.
That anger worried him more than the fight had.
Because angry fighters made mistakes.
Angry men with something to prove made worse ones.
Luke walked away.
Noah followed.
But as they reached the Atlas booth, Noah noticed Luke looking over his shoulder.
"What?"
Luke shook his head.
"Nothing."
"You don't look like nothing."
Luke watched Carter talking to two men in black polo shirts.
One was the event's security supervisor.