I had no intention of letting Duke get away. I could hunt these Alliance clowns down at a later date, but I wanted Duke. Careful planning was preparatory to a mission. It was time for action. I stepped toward Duke as the aggressor. My action was confrontational and tactical. I’d put Duke’s big frame between me and the wannabe Aryan commandos. Duke bowed up, ready to fight, but it was all show. If I had a pin, I could’ve burst his bubble. Adrenaline flowed. I had the position I wanted and stayed relaxed, allowing for a faster strike.
Duke and the Alliance were a clueless pack of amateurs. Without clear leadership emerging, the situation continued chaotic.
Duke acted confident I was unarmed. The Alaskan’s were reserved. Ponytail evidently had a brain flash and cried out, “He’s wired for sound. That’s what he has, a transmitter.” The A-Team responded and stepped back from the fight. Duke stood all alone. I couldn’t resist the temptation.
I slammed a right cross into Duke’s throat, and he buckled to his knees. A-Team members moved near Duke’s left side in a diagonal fashion, Pug leading the way. More amateur moves on their part. If they’d known what they were doing, they would’ve spread out and surrounded me, but they didn’t. I maintained a position to use their movement against them if they tried to come at me all at once.
Amateurs have a history of unpredictability. I’ve never found a way to know when or what tactical mistake an amateur would make. With these guys, I could expect a foolhardy move to happen at any moment.
The Alliance had practiced a bunch of canned scripts for some futuristic condition. Their training hadn’t taken on reality. In contrast, I’d spent the past few years’ actively stalking, hunting, engaging, and killing people in real-time. Even when I wasn’t on a project, I found myself constantly on the prowl. As a natural predator, I watched and noted human behavior. At one point, I thought I’d developed a second nature. I was wrong. It was my only nature.
Fear had gotten the best of Pug, and he acted on it. He charged straight at me, but he was slow. Adrenaline dumped into my system, and I amped up with power. The added surge of energy set in motion a chain reaction of violence. I didn’t have time to dodge Pug’s attack. Instinctively, years of martial arts training surfaced. I struck viciously like a snake with an overhand finger jab into Pug’s eyes and gouged when I hit. He sprawled on the floor. Duke had made it back to his feet and looked for a way to retreat. My façade had worked in my favor. The expectation of a mild-mannered columnist had been shattered. The viciousness of my attack left Pug injured and collapsed on the floor. The fight should have been thrust into full swing, but they were slow to engage.
I capitalized on their momentary hesitation and moved clockwise on Duke, leaving Pug covering his eyes with both hands. Bright red blood poured through his cupped fingers and ran onto the floor. If my jab had hit the mark, his vision, breathing, and thinking would be severely compromised. Blind and vulnerable was good. Mentally shattered was better.
I waited, but the Alaskans tended to their buddy Pug. Duke had the best shot at getting busy, but he tried to back-peddle out of the fray. The A-team tried to figure out their next step. They hadn’t taken into account that I would be such a formidable foe. Ponytail angrily yelled something indecent while Flattop spouted a string of expletives. If they weren’t all that gung-ho to dance before I stuck my fingers in Pug’s eyes, they were quickly trying to psych themselves up now.
Duke tried to fade back from the frontline, but since he wasn’t throwing punches, I wanted him right in front of me as a barrier. Limiting the number of attackers that could engage at one time was my strategy. I had to play it smart to beat these guys. The key to survival was combat control.
Ponytail and Flattop left Pug in pain and rushed in my direction. With all my strength, I unleashed an explosive swing into Duke’s temple area, and he staggered clumsily. The two Alaskans tried to get a handle on me to grapple, but I wasn’t having a wrestling match. If they wanted a piece of me, they’d have to throw down, not roll around. They shouted and cursed as they tried to get a hold on me, but their noise faded as I tossed punch after punch.
To keep the position in the fight, I back-pedaled but kept throwing punches. Flattop took a thump in the beak, and the blood squirted from his nose as if he’d been cut with a knife. I created more distance and kept the action one-on-one. Duke ended up too close, so I grabbed his jacket collar and dragged him with me. He still hadn’t thrown a punch. My hands were sore, swelling and covered with blood. Ponytail swung wildly and managed to get in front of Duke, who slipped from my grip and retreated from the fight.
I stepped backward, unable to take over the offensive to attack forward. A flurry of fists flew. There was no way to block or duck to avoid all the punches pounding my face blow after blow.
My eyes swelled, and blood ran freely. I had trouble seeing. Duke finally stepped forward and threw a punch that missed by a foot. His swing left him wide open for a well-placed kick in the groin. He folded over and vanished behind the tiny pack. It was impossible to hit hard or effectively when stepping backward from a fight. A powerful blow caught me in the jaw. I fell back through an open door into an antechamber.
I threw everything I had back into the battle. Flattop went for a leg grab, and I kicked him in the chops dropping him to the floor. Duke bounced from side to side behind the Alaskans but never came to the front again. At some point, Pug re-joined the fray followed by Flattop popping back in too. As a last ditch effort, I used the doorway as a makeshift funnel for my assailants. The bottleneck didn’t hold as they clobbered me again and again until they overpowered my position and physically pushed me further into the room.
It was quickly becoming a bloodbath. A red mist filled the air with each blow that connected. If I still had options, I couldn’t see them.
I continued to dance on my heels until they had backed me up to a rickety staircase in the room. I lost hope of forcing the Alliance into one-on-one fighting. With three opponents in my face, I couldn’t inflict enough damage to change the tide.
For a minute, I held my ground while we exchanged blows. Regardless of how blood-covered and sticky my hands had become, I continued throwing punches. Flattop tightly latched on to me with a headlock in an attempt to wrestle me from the staircase. But the slippery blood worked in my favor. I flipped him off, but lost footing and went down. Duke had either worked up the courage to get back in the fight or by sheer accident had ended up engaged on the front lines again. Duke reached for one of my legs. As he bent forward, I responded with a swift kick. He caught my boot. Not with his hands, but under his chin—full force. He dropped to the floor and didn’t move.
The adrenaline had done all it could, but I was weakening. Vertigo loomed with every punch I took. Pug got his hands on one of my feet and pulled forward causing me to fall back. Suddenly, Flattop’s face came into my blurred view. My foot connected with his groin, and he toppled to the floor.
Ponytail tried to latch onto my lower legs, and I saw the opening to secure a handful of his hair. With a swift pull, I dragged him forward onto me. Neither Pug nor Duke could get to me for a ground and pound with their pal in the way.
I never lost faith I would survive the fight. I remembered the words of my sensei, “There is always one more thing you can do.” So, I acted on the only thing I saw readily available, Ponytail’s ear. It wasn’t a knockout blow, but my incisors fit nicely over the top of his right ear. I bit down hard and ripped at it with all the brutality I could muster. Ponytail let out a high-pitched scream as he jerked away. I spit the bloody piece of flesh in the direction of the others. I saw the look of horror on their face and heard the fear in their silence.
The mutilated chunk of ear lay on the floor and kept the Alliance at bay until the shock wore off. I rose to my feet. That’s as far as I got. Flattop had gotten back on his feet and was taking short choppy steps toward me. It was his turn on the dance floor. I snapped a kick to his groin and chambered a roundhouse kick catching him in the
stomach which put him to the floor. The fight went full bore, spitting blood and cussing between kicks and punches. One of the Alliance caught my foot as I’d jammed a kick which drew me into a tangled mess of their hands and feet. I fell backward to the floor. I tried to get to my feet, but they laid into me with their fancy combat boots, kicking, and stomping. Flattop straddled my chest and bludgeoned my face with the savage brutality of both fists in rapid succession.
The pain turned surreal. I no longer felt the blood. I drifted in and out of consciousness. My last thought was of Anna.
Chapter 8
“Luck often enough, will save a man, if his courage hold.”
—Bullwyf, 13th Warrior
I wasn’t comfortable lying in bed. I was hot one minute and freezing the next. If I’d been able to reach a blanket, I would’ve covered myself, but I didn’t see one next to me. I felt around on my bed for any covering, but I wasn’t sure my hands had moved. Drained of energy, I surmised the best course of action was to rest.
Mentally, I was wide awake, yet there was a strange feeling of disconnect from my body. Perhaps it was a temporary paralysis, but if it were, how could I have gotten in that condition? I struggled to move. A sense of confinement set in closely followed by foreboding. I was held a prisoner in my body and caught in a state of limbo. Maybe purgatory I thought, but wouldn’t I have to believe to go there? Besides, what was visible to my minds’ eye stretched the limits of reality.
I hovered above my body, watching. Time had no relevance. Had an hour passed, a day, or a month? I didn’t know. I had no memory of how I’d gotten in the bed, or who had helped me? Where was the bed housed, and how long had my body lay in the bed asleep?
Destiny, my faithful spirit guide, looked as beautiful as ever. I was happy to see her. Even the scenery changed with her appearance. No longer was I the focus of my attention, only Destiny. Her beautiful bronzed skin glowed in the light of day. In all the years I’d known her, she hadn’t aged a single day. I hoped to share her future in immortality. Her long blonde hair flowed down over her shoulders and onto her luminous white robe that shined with dazzling intensity. Most impressive were her eyes whose ever-changing color matched her mood. With soft pink lips, she appeared as a work of heavenly art. Angelic. Devine.
Destiny was once a troubled apparition that sought refuge with me. We’d formed a union together as one entity and set out on our Calling. We brought death and destruction to the vilest of criminals. Destiny had chosen me as a travel companion, having forever forged her place in my heart. We brought a sense of purpose and salvation to one another.
It wasn’t everyone that had such a spiritual relationship. In fact, I didn’t know anyone who admitted to having a familiar spirit as a close friend and ally. I felt honored and unique. We had a rich past. I mused on how unusual our conversations had been, not because she was an apparition, but because Destiny wasn’t a big talker.
In my state of limbo, I contemplated our time together. Perhaps it was nothing more than the recollection of my dreams, but that was improbable. If it was only the compilation of memories, how could new thoughts emerge? Destiny extended her hand and lifted me from my place of rest and strolled onto a vast expanse of grassland.
At times, Destiny and I walked hand-in-hand and laughed. On other occasions, it was if I were a third person anonymously watching Destiny and me. I’d never had such a crazy dream if that’s what I was experiencing.
Under a tree of antiquity at the edge of the lush grassland I rested. The Caledonian Pine, surrounded in white heather, cast a comforting shadow over where I laid. With arms casually crossed at my waist and eyes closed in peaceful harmony with my surroundings, I found tranquility. Destiny kneeled by my side and stroked the back of my hand with the gentle touch of her fingertips. “I’m awake,” I whispered and peeked through one eye at her. She smiled and cupped her hands over mine. I’d found mankind’s quest—paradise.
Destiny spoke softly, “Your sojourn in spirit will soon end. Rise from your slumber and carry on your pilgrimage.”
An element of confliction plagued me. Regardless of the credence I gave her directive I could not bring myself to rise from my peaceful recline. I’d seen the cruelty of the world. I wanted no further connection.
“War rages,” She urged.
“I’ve fought battles, and I’ve fought wars. Is there no one else willing to fight?”
“You are chosen.”
“I answered my Calling and ran the course that was set before me.”
“Blood of the slain call out for vengeance. The battle awaits the conqueror to arise.”
I looked to the sky and saw a growing black mass of energy. Destiny held my hands tighter. “Crusader, you are a transient mortal. In time, you will come to the knowledge that you and I have always existed. Many times, over the course of history, we have intervened in the affairs of mankind. Do not fear. You have One who has called you to sacrifice. Hear me; no battle is won unless the will exists to fight. Go now and follow your Calling.”
Gloomy, dark storm clouds whirled in the skies above, and an eerie darkness overshadowed the land. I looked for further guidance, but I was alone. I shut my eyes and awaited my fate under the old pine tree. A sudden bolt of lightning charged through my body. It brought with its strike an intense pain followed by a spinning sensation. A second bolt struck followed by another. The pain—unmerciful.
Small droplets of rain fell. I tried to open my eyes to seek shelter elsewhere, but couldn’t. Involuntarily my body shivered and shook violently. My conscious state of paralysis did nothing to abate the torturous pain. The rain continued its onslaught, endlessly and without mercy.
Unexpectedly, there came a recognizable sound. Near my ear was the buzz of a winged insect—a sound that didn’t belong in my dream world. I moved my fingers. At their tips, I could detect the softness of a silty loam mixed with wet grass. I tried to open my eyes but could see just a sliver of light. My head felt like it was jammed between the jaws of a vice and squeezed so tightly that every beat of my heart brought severe pain. I was a long way from Paradise and the refuge of the heather and Caledonian Pine. But each throb brought greater awareness that I’d been reunited with the mortal world, and I was thankful. The pain screamed that I was still alive.
I continued to suffer uncontrollable hot and cold flashes. I was determined to make my body move. I didn’t know where I was, but my memory was sufficiently intact to know what had happened. After numerous tries, my right hand touched my face. Letting my fingers continue, they made their way to an eyelid and pried it open to barely a slit. The ability to focus was impaired but after a few minutes I could make out my surroundings. Struggling through the intense pain, I rolled my head to one side. Woodsy terrain opened up into a steep ravine.
I deduced the Alliance had dumped my body for dead as they had the Alaskan girl they’d murdered. The steep hillside suggested I’d been rolled or dragged to my resting spot from an upper location. No one had carried my carcass up from the valley basin. There was no other logical explanation for how I ended up in this place.
As the night fell, a distinct noise reverberated up the canyon from a distance. A truck’s Jake brake had roared to life on the valley’s decline. A roadway was not far away. Sometime during the night I’d rolled onto my side, the one that hurt the least, and pushed myself upright into a sitting position. At daybreak, I garnered my strength and stood to my feet. A simple undertaking if it weren’t for such an unstable equilibrium.
The trek from the dump site to the road was daunting. I was determined to walk horizontally on the steep canyon, angling up or down only as necessary to meet the terrain challenges. Reaching the roadway was my immediate goal.
The rain hadn’t been a dream world impression, but a double-edged sword. Cold and unpleasant as the steady drizzle was, it had helped to wash away the caked-on blood from around my hands and face. I’d taken inventory of the physical damage I’d sustained. Most of the injuries were above my w
aist. Every breath brought pain to my rib cage. Both my hands were badly swollen, and my jaw dislocated or broken. A persistent pressure throughout my head and neck was the cause of my greatest concern.
Daybreak had lit the canyon wall, and I started my climb out. I hadn’t traversed twenty yards before I saw the telltale tracks where they’d dragged me down into the ravine. By following the signs back, I’d find the road. I stepped a few feet, rested, then stepped a few feet more. I repeated the process until I’d crested the edge of the roadway.
The Alliance deserved credit for learning from their mistakes. They dumped my body deep into the ravine. The heavily wooded terrain was ideal for hiding the presence of a body from the view of the road and wasn’t likely discoverable through happenstance. A lesson they’d learned with their last victim.
The greatest proof these clowns were amateurs I found stuffed in my pockets. They hadn’t picked me clean. They didn’t concern themselves with my money or wallet. The attack was unplanned, so they hadn’t taken into consideration their actions afterwards. Signs indicated they were running scared when they’d left me for dead. What went down hadn’t fit their rehearsed scenarios, so they didn’t know how to react. They had no contingency plan for body disposal. In their mind, when the day came for the zombie infestation, they’d be shooting at will with no need to hide bodies from the law.
My personal cell phone was the single missing item from my person. My Palatini cell phone had been left in a shoe box tucked under my bed at the resort.
On the opposite side of the road from where I’d climbed the embankment stood a natural brush hedgerow. I hobbled across the asphalt surface and took refuge. If the Alliance had any suspicion that I survived the attack, they might circle back and check on my status. I didn’t see any reason to make it easy for them. Barry County’s finest could sit this dance out as well. Palatini operators had no need for 9-1-1; we took care of our own rat killing. Our way.
Blood Appeal: Vigilante--A Species of Common Law Page 12
