“This one should be gory too,” I said, pointing at the ringmaster who had just walked out holding two machetes for the next round.

“It’s round four,” said the ringmaster, “and it is only fitting that perhaps the most evil of these rebels will be forced to taste their own medicine. Please bring forward Randy Smith and Tony Ayles, responsible for the deaths of forty five people in our circus tent.”

As the rebels were brought forward, the audience began to chant ‘Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!’ at an ever increasing volume.

The ringmaster threw the machetes on the sand in front of the young men in disgust, returned to his seat, and shouted, “Your fifteen minutes start now!”

Tony, a lanky man in his early twenties, immediately bent down to pick up the machetes.

“I’m not going to let you kill me, you bastard!” he spat at Randy. “I loved you, and look where it’s got me. It’s your fault I’m in this mess.”

Randy, a petite boy in his late teens, stepped forward and waved his finger at Tony.

“You encouraged me to storm the circus; you’re as guilty as I am,” he reasoned.

“Only because you said it would be just a protest,” replied Tony, “a way to maybe free some prisoners. I didn’t think you’d hack people to pieces with a machete.”

“I had to avenge my brother,” said Randy simply.

I had been studying Randy’s face and knew I had seen it before somewhere. Now it came to me: His younger brother Simon had been adorning the Roman crucifix the first time we rode the Ghost Train all those weeks ago.

“If you loved me, you’d have kept me out of it then,” said Tony. “Instead I had to kill several people in that circus in order to protect you from the mob trying to take you down.”

Randy laughed. “I’ve never loved you, you fool! I only wanted you for the sex.”

At this Tony railed and lunged at Randy with the machetes, but Randy easily sidestepped his attack.

“You need to practise more!” teased Randy as Tony in his rage lunged again and again and they danced around the centre of the arena.

When Tony stopped to catch his breath, Randy rushed him and kicked him in the groin, causing Tony to drop one of the machetes as he bent over, winded, and instinctively grabbed his privates while letting out a guttural groan.

Randy swiftly picked up the machete and slashed Tony’s legs, forcing him to collapse to his knees.

He’s done, I thought, as Randy raised his machete in the air and readied himself to deliver a fatal blow to Tony’s head.

But there was still some fight left in Tony, and as Randy’s machete descended, he rolled away and managed to get to his knees again. Randy toppled forwards, overbalancing and embedding his machete in the sand.

Tony now had the advantage and used all his strength to end the fight. His machete came down on the back of Randy’s neck and embedded itself there. Tony let go of its hilt as Randy’s lifeless body fell to the ground.

There was thunderous applause, but when the guards came to drag Randy’s body back to his post, one of them held up his hand.

“The boy’s not dead,” he declared as he turned Randy over onto his back. “I think he’s just paralysed — the machete severed his spinal cord but didn’t cut his throat.”

The ringmaster came over, and now with a little more sympathy for Tony, handed him a skewer.

Tony needed no instruction. He knelt down and looked into Randy’s darting eyes, and seeing that he appeared conscious and able to comprehend what was going on, he whispered, “You have broken my heart. Now I will break yours.”

He took his time as he stabbed Randy in the heart repeatedly until the boy’s eyes glazed over.

Tony handed the skewer back to the ringmaster and began walking back to his post.

“Please show your appreciation for the winner of Round Four: Tony Ayles,” said the ringmaster slowly as he watched Tony walk away.