by Susanne Beck
"Feel that?"
"Oh yes."
"Ready to give it a try?"
"Uhhh . . .maybe once more?" Yes, I could play stupid with the best of them, alright.
Her hands tightened around my hips as, into my vision a long leg slashed, rocketing into the bag and, it seemed, managing to sway the entire building with its strength. The metal links holding the bag to the eaves groaned again as if they seriously considered snapping in a shower of rust just to protest the abuse they were receiving. "Better?"
"Oh yes, much better, thanks. I’m almost sure I’ve got it down now."
"Almost?" From the tone of the voice in my ear, I knew my game had been discovered and I tensed slightly, waiting for the inevitable.
After a second or two with nothing happening, I relaxed. "Yes, almost. Once more should do the trick."
"Are you sure." Ice’s tone was rich with suppressed mirth.
"Positive. Just one more time. That’s all I need."
"Alright. Once more and then you’re on your own."
"Check."
Once again, her hands tightened against me and I leaned back into the strength of her body as the muscles clenched, then loosened, their motion caressing my back with sensual abandon. Her long, thick, soft hair fanned across my shoulder and slid against my cheek, filling my nostrils with its wonderful fragrance. My eyes slipped closed and I imagine I had the goofiest grin of pure bliss stamped across my face.
Unfortunately, in my pleasure-filled haze, I had forgotten about the difference in our heights. When my eyes opened again, I caught the twinkle of perfect sapphires as they gazed back at me in amusement. "Ya can’t learn much with your eyes closed, Angel."
"Were they closed?"
A faint smirk was all the answer I needed.
"Oh. Well . . .I was . . .feeling the kick. With my body. Like you told me. Right?"
"Feeling the kick."
"Right. With my body. Just like you said."
"And what did it feel like?"
Involuntarily, my eyes closed again. "Heavenly."
A burst of laughter told me that my comment had been uttered aloud. I felt the blush begin at my toes and spread at a record pace throughout the rest of my body. I made a weak try to escape the situation but Ice merely tightened her arms, pinning me to her body. "Don’t worry about Pony. She’s just taken one too many hits to the head."
"Hey!" my friend shouted in mock outrage, tears still rolling down her cheeks.
"Just ignore her," Ice said as she released her grip on my hips and stepped back away from me. It took all my effort not to step back with her, but one long look at Pony’s still red face convinced me to stay where I was.
"Alright, Angel," Ice said from her place behind me, "try it now. Remember, it’s all in the positioning of your body. Visualize the kick and then go for it."
Visualize the kick, she says. The only thing I can visualize right now are her arms around me again. Alright, Angel. Enough of that. You’ve got a job to do, so just go on and do it.
Taking a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart, I ran through the kick once more in my mind, visualized my foot hitting that high black mark, then let loose, twisting on my foot and shooting my leg out and up.
I grinned as I heard the satisfying smack of flesh against canvas and felt the bag give with the force of my kick. Pony, who was holding the bag to steady it for me, flew away, almost colliding with a weight bench.
"Yes!" I crowed.
Pony turned wide eyes to me. "Where in the world did that come from??"
With a triumphant smirk of my own, I narrowed my eyes at my astounded friend. "Let’s just say I needed the right motivation."
A soft snort sounded behind me and I whirled in time to see Ice quickly cover her mouth with her fingers as her eyes shot skyward in an expression of devilish innocence. When her fingers came away again, her usual no nonsense expression was settled firmly over her features. "Alright, you did it once. Good. Now keep practicing until you can hit that same spot repeatedly without missing."
I groaned.
She narrowed her eyes at me, then her expression cleared. "Angel, look. This stuff isn’t easy, but if you want the tools needed to defend yourself against some of these idiots, you’ve got to practice." She smiled slightly. "Besides, you’re a natural. You’ve got a good, strong, compact body with a low center of gravity."
"You mean I’m short."
"No. I mean you’ve got a good, strong, compact body with a low center of gravity. Makes you hard to hit. Plus, you’re quick. If you try one of those high kicks at an opponent, say Derby’s size, you’ll surprise the hell outta her."
I nodded. "Surprise is good. Surprise is great, as a matter of fact. I just wish . . . ."
"What?"
I sighed, feeling my shoulders slump slightly. "I just wish I didn’t have to learn all this. Don’t get me wrong, I know I have to learn to defend myself. I just wish I could learn without having to hurt anyone else, that’s all."
Ice stepped close once again, reaching out and laying both hands on my shoulders. Her gaze was deep and direct and utterly serious. "Angel, in a place like this, sometimes you don’t have a choice."
As she stood looking at me, the silence drawing out between us, I could tell she could feel the strength of my convictions because her eyes changed color with her thoughts. After a moment, she stepped away and turned toward Pony. "Come at me."
Pony blinked. Then a slow, pleased grin spread across her face. "Alright." She rolled her neck in slow circles, loosening the tendons, then jerked her head sharply left, then right. The resulting sounds of vertebrae realigning themselves made me faintly nauseous.
Then, with a shout, she threw herself at Ice, her hands, feet, arms and legs a wild blur of motion. It reminded me of nothing so much as one of those horridly dubbed Japanese ‘kung fu’ films that my father used to watch in lieu of going to church on Sunday mornings. I can remember being too sick to go to church a few times and snuggling on the couch with my father, trying hard not to laugh at the seemingly outlandish fight sequences lest my absorbed parent chase me from the room and back into my boring old bed.
Watching some of those same moves in person, however, gave me an entirely new respect for the techniques I’d only laughed about in the past. Wild though they seemed, each strike was furiously controlled, aimed at one specific part of the body, and determined to do as much damage with as little effort as possible.
Pony was truly a sight to behold with her slashing limbs and wild, almost feral smile.
Ice was a different beast altogether. Her eyes half lidded and almost bored, she blocked each and every blow with seemingly lazy ease, turning Pony’s blows away and bleeding their strength while doing nothing to counterattack. The muscles of her body were loose and relaxed, her breathing even and steady.
I watched with absorbed fascination as I noticed that none of the slashing blows came anywhere near hitting her, though it was obvious that Pony was doing her level best to connect. Rather than become frustrated, however, Pony simply changed combinations and angles, coming in high, then low, then low again, trying to confuse her opponent.
Ice wasn’t buying into the rapidly shifting tactics, content to maintain her ‘lion lazing in the sun’ pose as she used her long arms and legs to continue to shunt the blows coming at her from all directions.
The mock battle began to draw spectators from all corners of the yard, but I was adamant on maintaining my position at the head of the crowd, using my ‘good, strong, compact body’ and my ‘low center of gravity’ effectively. Ice watched me from the corner of her eye, grinning slightly as she saw me stubbornly battling the crushing press of the crowd at my back and sides.
Pulling out another weapon in her arsenal, Pony twisted her body, then launched a truly spectacular spinning back kick at Ice’s midsection. Her reaction faster than a striking cobra, Ice neatly caught Pony’s outstretched foot, turning the ankle outward just to the point of snapping.
Po
ny yelped, then slapped her thigh with her open hand, calling ‘mercy’ with the action.
After another second, Ice released Pony’s foot and grinned as the other woman hopped backwards, cursing and rubbing her ankle. "You know that move never works on me, Pony. Why do ya keep on trying it?"
Planting her aching foot on the ground, Pony put her hands on her hips and scowled. "Because it works on everyone else, and one day, Ice . . . ."
Ice snorted. "Dream on." Then she turned to me, eyebrow raised in silent question.
I nodded. "That was good."
"Alright, Pony. Get Montana and Critter to work with her. Half an hour of Aikido, half an hour of blocks. Hour and a half of each on Saturdays."
Pony nodded her dark head, her hair wet with the sweat of exertion. "You got it."
The warning bell sounded, ending the exercise period and I turned to Ice, smiling. "Thank you."
Nodding at me in acknowledgement, she turned and slapped Pony on the shoulder before stalking off toward the building, her boots kicking up tiny puffs of dust as she walked.
Pony came up to me, with her cocky grin and sweating form, and flung a casual arm around my shoulders, bulling us both through the dispersing crowd and back toward the prison that was our home.
"That was fantastic, Pony. How long did it take you to learn all those moves?"
She shrugged. "I’ve always been into karate and other forms of martial arts. Got my black belt when I was fifteen or so. When Ice was here before, she really helped me out a lot. Still can’t beat her though."
"Do you think you ever will?"
"Nah. She’s way beyond anything that’s out there." She grinned again, that wild, free grin that sparkled her dark eyes. "Sure is fun to try though." Releasing me as we stepped into the building, she turned. "Heading back to the library?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Down to grab a shower. Tell Corinne I said hello, alright?"
"Will do. Thanks again, Pony."
With a rakish grin and an imaginary tip of a hat, she turned from me and was gone, her orange-clad form swallowed up by the long, dank halls of the prison.
I too continued down the hall a few more yards, then made a left into the library, catching a flash of orange as another inmate entered ahead of me. And found myself almost plowing right into the broad back of Ice as she stood just within the entrance to the room. Excusing myself hastily, I stepped away, watching as a huge smile crossed Corinne’s face. "As I live and breathe. The great Morgan Steele has actually graced my library with her presence!" Standing, my friend grasped beneath her left breast in mock pain. "Take me now, Lord! I’ve finally lived to see it all!"
Smiling slightly, Ice shook her head and walked over to the desk, meeting Corinne half way and enveloping her in a massive hug.
I could feel my face go tight in shocked reaction as I watched the scene play out before me. In the time I’d known her, though not long, to be sure, I’d never ever seen Ice be so physically affectionate with anyone. In a way, it was akin to watching a statue come to life and grab an unsuspecting passer-by. I was stunned.
Stepping away from the hug, Corinne held Ice at arm’s length, looking her up and down. "My God. I thought growth spurts were supposed to stop at eighteen! You’re even taller than when I saw you last!"
Ice rolled her eyes. "Corinne, I saw you last week."
"Yes, I do seem to remember someone grunting at me as I passed by in the hallway. Was that you? And here I thought we’d obtained a penitentiary pig."
"Corinne . . . ."
Slapping Ice lightly on the arm, Corinne backed away, grinning unrepentantly. "So, what brings you into my evil web? Come to talk to an old, and I’m not getting any younger by the way, friend? Or was it something else?"
"Well, actually, I was wondering if that book I’d ordered had come in yet."
Corinne tapped her chin, her eyes twinkling. "Book. Book. Ah yes. The Gulag Archipelago, wasn’t it?"
"You read Solzhenitsyn?" I blurted out before I could ram my foot down my throat.
Ice did a slow turn, facing me with narrowed eyes. "Something wrong with that?"
"No! No, not at all! I was just . . .um . . .he’s one of my favorite writers."
As she continued to stare at me, I turned my eyes pleadingly to Corinne.
"Don’t mind Angel. She’s just a literary snob. Doesn’t think the rest of us common folk could tell the difference between Dostoevski and Doonesbury."
"Corinne!"
Smirking, Ice turned back to Corinne, hands on her hips. "So, is it in yet?"
"Something I’ve asked my husbands many a time, my dear, though the answer in this case would be no."
"Alright, then. Would you please send someone to tell me when it does come in?"
"Ah, ah, ah, dear Ice. Not so fast. You’re in my domain now, where I rule as Sovereign. Now sit down at that table over there, relax, and drink some tea or else!"
"Or else what?"
"Never you mind ‘or else what’, Ice. The tea’s ready and waiting to be drunk. Get that cute little butt of yours over to that table and sit down."
There are times when I could cheerfully yank my tongue from my throat, and this was definitely such a time. A laugh erupted before I could stop it, earning me another icy-eyed glare from my intimidating companion. I winced, expecting some form of retribution, only to relax when none was immediately forthcoming.
Ice turned back to Corinne and the air became thick and heated with the intensity of their stare-down. After a long moment of utter silence, Ice threw up her hands and turned on her heel. "Fine." Stalking over to the table, she pulled out a chair, turned it, and sat down, straddling the back.
Corinne grinned triumphantly, though her eyes still held that teasing sparkle. "Good Lord, Ice, you were doing ‘petulant’ when you were fifteen! I would have thought that would have been one of the things you’d have grown out of by now."
"Just pour the damn tea, Corinne, or I’ll show you some other things I haven’t grown out of."
Tipping me a wink, Corinne turned and busied herself at the teapot, humming gleefully. A few moments later, she returned, bearing two steaming mugs, one of which she set before Ice, and the other slid home in the space beside the tall woman. "Such a bully," she murmured, patting Ice affectionately on the shoulder. Then she turned to me, hands on hips. "Well, what are you waiting for? The Second Coming? Get on over here, Angel, and stop acting like you’re watching two dogs going at it in the front yard."
Blushing and properly chastised, I slowly walked over to the other side of the table. Slouching gingerly into my seat to avoid any more scathing commentary, I meekly took the offered mug and sipped down the hot tea, my eyes studiously avoiding the other two women.
"She takes to teasing almost as bad as you do," she stage-whispered to Ice.
"I wonder why," Ice remarked drolly. "You should have that tongue of yours declared a lethal weapon and confiscated as contraband."
Corinne smirked. "Then what would all my lady-friends think?"
A fine spray of hot tea spewed forth from my lips at Corinne’s remark, managing to douse part of the table and part of, to my utter mortification, Ice. As Ice jumped from her chair, batting at the hot droplets clinging to her skin, Corinne collapsed against the table, howling with laughter.
I rose from my chair quickly, trying to help clean her arm, when Ice batted my hands away. "Please," I begged, "let me help you."
"No. No, you’ve done enough. Just sit back down."
Corinne laughed harder, slapping her hand down on the table, which caused the mugs to jitter violently, tea splashing over their sides and adding to the mess already there.
Ice walked over to the hidden hotplate and grabbed one of Corinne’s neatly pressed linen handkerchiefs, dabbing the scalding liquid from her skin and uniform. All of our heads turned sharply toward the door as a badly out of breath Critter came to a sliding halt, just inside the library. "Ice," she panted, grasping her heaving chest, "y
ou gotta come quick. Psycho broke out and she’s got a shiv at some guard’s neck. She’s asking for you."
"Shit." Throwing the rag down on the table next to the teapot, Ice bolted from the room, Critter hard on her heels.
Corinne and I exchanged a look before I too jumped to my feet and ran out the door, trying hard to keep Critter’s bobbing curls in sight.
* * *
As I look over these notes I’ve written, it occurs to me that you, the reader, are probably wondering exactly who Psycho is and why she needed to speak to Ice. As your faithful chronicler, it is my sworn duty to keep you informed, and shall do so right now.
The first thing you should know is that, although her prison nickname was ‘Psycho’, no one ever, ever called her that to her face. Her birth name was Cassandra Smythson, and that was the name she went by in the Bog.
The second thing you should know is that Cassandra was dangerously insane. A battery of psychiatrists performed a battery of tests to prove it. She was floridly psychotic but had many moments of perfect lucidity. She was also Obsessive/Compulsive and one of her obsessions was Ice.
Cassandra had been in the Bog since she was eighteen, making her a resident for six years as of the time of the events I shall soon be recounting. When she was eighteen, and a senior in high school, Cassandra had come home after a night of drinking and drugging, to find her mother waiting for her. Words were exchanged and Cassandra went into the kitchen, pulled out a butcher knife, and proceeded to stab her mother thirty seven times, killing her. The coroner stated that, based on the level of blood loss, fully ninety percent of the wounds were inflicted post mortem. Then she went through the house and killed her two younger brothers as well as her sister, who was three at the time.
After spending the night in the house with the dead bodies of her entire family, she went into school and killed three fellow classmates. She was working on her teacher when the captain of the football team rushed in and managed to subdue her, though not until he had suffered numerous cuts of his own in addition to a concussion and the loss of his previously capped front teeth.
It’s no lie to say that it was obvious to everyone that Cassandra Smythson was totally crazy. The police knew it, the judge knew it, the psychiatrists proved it, and the public knew it. The best thing anyone could have possibly done for all concerned was to put her into a nice, safe, secure mental institution and throw away the key.
