There were too many, but they were pricks and he'd won the money. The blow to his throat came out of nowhere.
His knees hit the damp cement, then his hands. Shouts, running feet, nothing mattered but breathing. Hand to his throat, shoulders heaving, his vision was turning white.
Pressure on his chest, an arm wrapping around and pulling him back to sit on his heels, giant hands on his back, pulling his chin up. He heard sirens.
"Sam. Yokels. Watch…"
"We're fine. Gonna get you in the ambulance now, okay?"
Wheezing. "They got air in there?"
"Unlimited supply, man."