Chicken Fight, Part Three

The gate beneath the sign that read FREE RANGE CHICKEN ASSOCIATION was locked. Hector tapped something on the sun visor in his minivan. The gate opened, and then closed behind us.

            “A chicken farm.” Rachel grimaced. “You take me on the weirdest dates.”

            “Hey, it’s free range. At least that’s what the sign says.”

            “And all those chickens willingly give their lives just to make your McNuggets? Meat’s still murder no matter how happy the animals are up until the last second.”

            Did I mention how Rachel’s a vegetarian?

            We followed Hector’s minivan down a short driveway past an empty parking lot in front of a long ranch house. Floodlights illuminated the signs:

“The BEST Free Range Chickens in the Midwest!”

“Come in for a FREE sample!”

“Our chickens live FREE and OPEN!”

“This place is bad.” Rachel shivered. She’s psychic, at least a little. I’d learned to trust her instincts. But I couldn’t turn back now. Could I? I glanced at my reaview mirror. The gate was shut.

Rachel flipped her middle finger at the signs as we veered around the house. “Lies. Liars.”

            “Sorry.” She’d asked to come—demanded, really—but this didn’t seem like the time to remind her.

Hector led us around the house toward a parking lot behind the main house, in front of a thick building that looked like a farmer’s barn. Attached to the barn, lights burned in a long barracks-style building with corrugated steel walls and a curved roof.

 A tall wire fence stretched 10 feet high beside the barn and beyond it. I veered away from Hector’s minivan to take a look. Even with the floodlights low, I could see hundreds of chickens hunkered down for the night. A few of them stood up, fluffed their wings, and found a different spot to sleep.

            Hector honked his horn.

This parking lot held twenty cars or more. A few Hondas and Toyotas like mine, mostly newer. One pickup truck. Minivans and luxury cars. One Mini Cooper.

            Hector jumped down from his minivan and waved. “Come on!”

            Rachel reached for the door handle—and froze, looking out the window to the long building. “I’ve got a bad feeling about all this.”

            I tensed. “Should we bail?”

            “No.” She ran her hand over her red hair. “Just—make sure we can pull a fast getaway, all right?”

            I unlocked our doors, my skin tingling nervously. “You’ve got a key. You can drive off anytime you want.”

            “Not without you. Jerk.” She punched my arm.

            “You and me both.” I opened my door and stood up on the gravel. Hector was glaring at me.

            I shrugged. “We needed a few minutes.”

            Hector rolled his eyes. “The show’s starting.”

A tall blond woman in cutoffs and multiple piercings in her ears, nose, and lips glanced at me and Rachel. “Forty dollars. Each.”

            I pulled four twenties from my wallet. The woman handed us two passes to stick to our shirts. “You come back and show these, you’ll get the money applied to your membership. That’s if you’re approved.”

            I handed a pass to Rachel. “How do we get approved?”

            “You need two sponsors.” She waved. “Hi, Hector.”

            “Hi, Dulcie.” Hector pulled on my elbow. “Come on.”

            Rachel jabbed an elbow into my ribs. “You were checking out her legs, weren’t you?”

            “Ow!” I grabbed her hand. “I’m working. I have to be able to identify people.”

            She smirked. “Riiight.”

            A short ramp took us down into a circular room where folding chairs on risers surrounded a wide pit. Most of the chairs were filled with men and women laughing and drinking beer from a keg in plastic cups. Fluorescent tubes dangled from the ceiling, swaying in the breeze through the slats in the walls.

            In the middle of the pit a steel cage rose 10 feet tall. Piles of straw covered the floor. The bars looked rusty but firm. A large metal bell hung from one ot the bars.

            Hector climbed onto a riser. He said hi to a couple on the aisle as we made our way to a trio of chairs. “You want a beer?”

            The aroma was tempting, but I shook my head. “What is this?”

            “Just wait.”

            So we waited. Music played from speakers near the stage, country-western mostly, with some Jon Bon Jovi mixed in. Rachel looked like she wanted to stuff her fingers in her ears.

            The man next to me nudged my arm. “Gonna be a good one tonight.”

            I looked at the bars on the cage. “I can’t wait.”

            Suddenly the fluorescent went down. Rachel clutched my hand. Above the cage a floodlight flared.

            A man walked into the pit. He had long black hair, a thick beard, and a gray T-shirt. “Hi, there, folks!”

            The audience cheered.

            “That’s Milo.” Hector pointed. “He’s the MC.”

            Milo raised his hands. “Yeah, yeah. Well, you know we’ve got a good show for you tonight. First, a preliminary bout. Get ready. You folks in front might want to sit back a little, you know?” Milo laughed.

            At the back of the cage, a door opened. Then another one, on the other side. The audience clapped and hooted. I leaned forward, not sure what I was waiting for.

            It was nothing I was ready for.

            “Holy shit.” Rachel leaned forward. “Is that—”

            “Yeah.” A chicken.

It was five feet tall.

A leather hood was mounted over its head, and a sharp metal spike was   strapped to its beak. Metal spurs were wrapped around its legs.

The audience roared as the chicken stalked forward, squawking and swinging its black wings, squawking and pounding its clawed feet in the straw piled on the floor inside the cage.  A wrangler held a leash attached to a collar around its neck.

Then a second door swung back. Another chicken, almost as large as the first, with red feathers but the same battle armor, lurched into the cage, spinning around over the straw as if looking for the way out. Another leash jerked around its throat.

Giant mutant ninja chickens. I wondered if Dr. Neral would have me committed if I told him about this.

“Let’s get to it!” Milo stepped to the side as the wranglers held the chickens back, jabbing them with electric prods, but letting them get close enough to two giant chickens circled each other in the cage, their feet crunching in the straw. “The red chicken is Achilles! The black chicken is Lucas! Two enter, one will leave to fight again! Place your bets!”

“It’s a cockfight?” Rachel jabbed my ribs. “Don’t snicker.”

I shrugged, helpless. “What can I say? I was hoping for voodoo.”

Audience members raised their hands to place bets. Dulcie from the door and another guy in a loose T-shirt and red suspenders worked the room, taking money and laying down odds.

I really wanted a beer.

Hector reached into his pocket. “Ten on the red one. She looks feisty.”

Dulcie took his money, handed him a slip of paper, and then looked at me. “How about you?”

“Maybe later.” What the hell? I shook my head. “We’re just here for the glamorous spectacle of two giant chickens fighting to the death. Thanks.”

She cocked her head, as if she didn’t speak irony. Then she took a step down to solicit bets from the people in the row in front of us.

Rachel giggled. “Not bad. Jerk.”

Milo rang the bell. “All bets down? All bets down! Let’s do this!”

He stepped around the cage, and the wranglers unhooked their leashes. They jabbed both chickens with electric prods, then ducked back through the doors, pushing them shut and securing them with heavy padlocks.

The creatures turned on each other.

            Rachel lurched up. “Okay, I can’t watch this.”

            She pushed past my knees and pushed around Hector, and then she was heading up the ramp, her shoulders shaking.

            I couldn’t blame her. I looked at Hector. “What does this have to do with Jared?”

            “Just wait.” His face was flushed with excitement as he watched the chickens do battle. “Just watch.”

            I clenched my fists under my arms and tried to breathe deeply, just like Dr. Neral had told me to do if I had a panic attack.  This wasn’t just panic, though. This was real.

These weren’t the kind of chickens you see in commercials, happy and fat. Large as they were, they were thin and sinewy, the combs on their heads and the wattles under their chins sliced off, their legs thin and tight—not fat for drumsticks. At normal size they would have been intimidating, like turkeys in the wild. At this size they looked like monsters from a 1950s sci-fi movie.

Achilles jabbed the spike on its beak down at Lucas’s throat, but the black chicken spun away and lifted a leg to stab Achilles in the thigh.

They circled each other, feinting and stabbing. Achilles was more aggressive, lunging at Lucas with his spike over and over again as the black chicken tried to defend himself. Blood dripped on the straw.

A woman in front of me stood up and screamed. “Kill him! Rip his heart out!”

Lucas got weaker as he lost blood. He backed up against the cage bars, his legs thrashing. He lunged forward, head down, and stabbed Achilles in the neck with his spike. Achilles stumbled back, squawking and flapping his wings, his claws stomping on the straw-covered floor.

Finally Lucas leaned over for a last desperate kick, but Achilles dodged and stabbed his beak spike down into the Lucas’ skinny throat. Blood gushed. A man rose onto his feet and shouted with glee. The woman in front of me kicked over her chair onto my feet.

            Lucas fell to the ground, twitching. Achilles kept stabbing him with the spike over and over again until the chicken was still, and dead. Then it jumped away, hopping around in a macabre victory dance as Lucas bled out over the straw.

             When Achilles calmed down, two wranglers came in and attached the leash to his collar to lead him away. More wranglers came out, wearing thick gloves to carry Lucas off and then sweep up the blood-drenched straw. The audience cheered.

            I leaned close to Hector. “Is this what I think it is?”

            He nodded. “Just wait."

            I was glad Rachel was outside. But I had to stay.