A savior will rise.

• Author: Hoffman, Shawn
• Position: ATHLETIC ARENA - Short story

BOTH FIGHTERS' GLOVES were laced tight. Mengele and Hoss left the bathroom to head for the front of the parlor, near the ring. Armed guards began to escort Samson and the Pole through the crowd toward the boxing ring. The room was packed. Samson could not see the ring yet from his path along the floor as he inched through the crowd. He noticed the drag queen was long gone. Instead of the accordion, the strident rise and fall of violin music now filled the room. The violin player was skillful, classically trained; Samson could tell--undoubtedly more used to playing Mozart than the German folk tune now pealing from his instrument with an underlying shrillness. The crowd clapped along in unison, cheering on the musician for more.

The crowd parted slightly as the fighters neared the stage. The Pole walked ahead, blocking Samson's view of the ring. With 20 feet to go, Samson slowed his gait. The Pole already was at ring's edge, and Samson never was one to crowd another fighter's entrance. The bigger man jumped up, pushed through the ropes, and went to his corner. It was at that moment that Samson got his first clear view of the violin player.

"Simon!" Samson gasped and jerked forward. In the center of the ring sat has son on a stool. The boy's eyes were closed, his face drawn. He played the violin with a deep intensity, like he was the only one in the room. "Simon!" Samson shouted. "Simon!" The yelling of the crowd was too loud for the boy to hear his father's call.

Guards grabbed Samson by the shoulders, holding him back. A choke rose in Samson's throat. The sight of his son sitting alone in the middle of the boxing ring playing for the amusement of a crowd of drunken, gun-toting murderers nearly sent Samson into a blind fury. He raged against the guards, shoving against the hands that gripped his shoulders. He was a protective parent, a papa bear robbed of his cubs. Samson pushed to the ring's edge, dragging the Nazi guards with him.

"Simon!" Samson shouted again. He leaped up onto the ring's sides and hurdled the ropes. Simon's eyes popped open. His music faltered. "Daddy!" Simon yelled. The boy jumped up and ran to his father. Rough hands held them apart. Three guards dragged Samson back to his corner. A ring guard hit Simon on the side of the face. "We didn't say to stop playing, little Jew," the ring guard yelled. A red welt rose on Simon's cheek.

Samson strained against the guards. Two others joined in and held him fast. The crowd roared...