So, about my victory

Sweat runs down my nose, the taste of blood fills my mouth, I can not give up, I have come too far.

I bend over and put my hands on my legs, my pants are soaked from wiping my hands on them.  There is equal chance it is sweat and blood, and there is equal chance the blood is mine or a vanquished foe.  I need to fight thru the exhaustion and pain, "just keep moving" I tell myself over and over.  They will not stop, no they will keep coming until there is nothing left of you. I must be heartless, I must be ruthless and I must show no weakness.

I slowly raise my torso back up and take one last breath.  The air tastes stale, like it is rising from stagnant water.  I start to run, head up, hands open, slight lean forward...the only thing going faster than my feet powered by my quads is my heart.  I can feel its beating in my neck, it feels like a drum.  I shake my head of the distraction, a distraction this late in the quest is liable to get me hurt, or worse, make me lose.  Hurt heals, but losing is forever.

I must keep my wits about me.  Even if they are not my strongest asset, they have kept me around this long.  I am still in this, and I am in this to win.  Too much is riding on me succeeding.

I see a puddle of something dark ahead of me on my left, it is shiny and placid, like a pond on a summer day where the only ripples are caused by a fish jumping for a mid-day snack.  Before I realize my mind has wandered, I feel a jolt to my ribs and hear a crunch that tells me an Advil will not be a quick fix.  I am sent flying to my left and I slide across the smooth floor and into the once placid puddle.  It is not a puddle of something anymore, it is a smear of blood, I see that now.

I look back and I see her.  She is as wide as she is tall, and she is very tall.  She caught me unawares with what looks like a leather mace she wields with two hands.  Her stench reaches me before she does.  She has obviously been here longer than I have or this is not her first go around.

She takes slow, but deliberate, steps.  Her matted hair flies about her head, eyes smeared with black and lips covered in red as she begins to swing her weapon again.  It is slow at first but the weight it holds gives it speed.  That is how I will I defeat this one.  I need only to dodge a single swing and she will be unbalanced.

I stay on the ground, but I plant my feet away from the smear, I do not want to add to it.  Wait for her to come closer....closer still...still closer...NOW!  As she brings her arms and weapon down on my position, I slide to her right.  The weight and momentum carry her a little and she stumbles.  I jump to my feet and my ribs remind me that she is not somebody to take lightly.  I kick at her in her wobbly state and she goes down hard on her head.  I thick thud and a slight groan tell me she is bested.

I give myself a second or two to feel my ribs and grimace in pain.  I start walking and there it is...the reason for all the pain, the reason for the exhaustion, the reason I have done unspeakable acts that I will relive in my nightmares for years to come, but wait...there is another.  He is on the other side.  He looks hungry and he looks desperate.  Clearly his journey has not been an easy one either.  While I do not know the horrors he has seen, I know he has seen them, but now he sees his finish line too.

We lock eyes and for a moment we both stop, then we run.   My ribs hurt more with every step I take, my lungs are burning and I am gasping for air.  I can feel my quads, hamstrings, glutes and calves all burning, they are begging for a rest, but my head and heart tell them rest is for the weak.

My eyes are on the prize, nothing else.  I am within mere feet of winning, of completing a task I did not think completable, but so is my opponent.  I am not sure who will get there first, but I can not risk being second so I alter my path slightly and when I near the center I send a hard a shoulder into his chest.  I hear the air leave his body and he is left crumpled on the floor.  I see his eyes and they show hurt, loss, and disappointment.  I also catch a reflection of my own eyes, they show soullessness.

There is nobody left to stop me, so I gingerly walk to the center.  My fallen opponent is trying fruitlessly to regain his form, he will not be able to, I know this and deep down he must too.  He tries to speak, something about his daughter.

I reach up and claim what is mine, finally.  Where the energy or pain tolerance comes from, I do not know, but I let out a primal scream.

I have survived Black Friday at Wal-mart!  Victory, thy name is Tickle Me Elmo!

As I stride out with my chest puffed and my swagger back, I immediately wonder how I much it will go for on Ebay.