Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Death in a Mat II

Most of the passengers had tuned out their surroundings and had not recognized the threat even though Mrs. Afro's shoulders had tensed slightly when Mr. newspaper-exam turned to look back. Penny was softly holding my left arm and showing me her well-manicured nails. I knew I had to take responsibility for our security and thwart the impending crime. My awareness level had shifted from relaxed awareness to focused awareness and now I was on high alert and the adrenaline rush was making me heady. In biological terms, I was on the fight mode and adrenaline-charged blood was rushing to my muscles.
These guys were three. Mr newspaper-exam could also be packing a gun but I wasn’t sure. But he would be the one to commandeer the driver to divert the car to whatever destination they dreamt up. The job of the guy at the back was probably to ensure nobody hides their wallets or tries anything funny as they clean us out. Mrs faded-jeans was probably just to make sure everybody knows this is some real shit and not child’s play.
Since these guys had not sprung to action, I needed to take the initiative and neutralize the threat. In the corner of my eye, I sized up Mrs faded-jeans. Her arms showed no signs of physical strength and the way she held up her torso indicated that she didn’t have a strong core. Her handbag was zipped up so she couldn’t retrieve the gun in a flash. I couldn’t size up Mr. newspaper-exam under his suit and from the back so for him I would have to deploy the element of surprise. In boxing, we used to say that it is the punch that you don’t see coming that knocks you out so he was the guy to watch out for. What if Mrs. Faded jeans just had a fetish for guns and was just carrying it for kicks? Or she was the daughter of a rich politician and was on her way to scare the living daylights out of her cheating boyfriend? Not a chance. These guys were not playing with us.
The car was moving at about seventy Kilometers per hour. The distance from Mrs faded-jeans to Mr newspaper-exam would take me two seconds. There was no need to use my revolver, that could have needlessly increased the casualty and probably included a fatality and amplified the panic reaction from the oblivious passengers. I didn't need chaos in defusing this threat effectively. So I decided to disable Mrs faded-Jeans and neutralize Mr newspaper-exam and scream at Mr. guy-at-the-back until he pees in his pants.
I would stun Mrs faded jeans by delivering a chop slightly above her collarbone at an area that has a nerve cluster as well as both the jugular vein and carotid artery. This would stun her temporarily. I would then grab her bag and leap to the next seat and deliver a blow to Mr. newspaper-exam right where his neck joins his shoulders where there is a group of muscles and nerves. Depending on the force of the blow, he could experience pain, muscle spasms that make the arm on that side temporarily useless, numbness and possibly injury to the muscles themselves. I would then pass my arm around his neck and choke him to unconsciousness as I turn round to Mr guy-at-the-back where I would deliver a scream that could split firewood and watch him shut the hell up and piss in his pants. I wanted to do this without any shot fired.
With the intent and threat level assessed, capability assessed, manoeuvrability assessed, tactics laid out and threat shielding calculated, I released my fingers from my revolver and made my move.
With my right knuckles at the foremost, I rose abruptly and deftly hit Mrs faded jeans above her collar bone with a sharp blow as I simultaneously grabbed her bag and leaped forward, stepping on the extended leg of Mrs Afro, who screamed in pain as she retracted her leg. As Mr. newspaper-exam looked back to see what Mrs Afro was screaming about, I hit him above his right shoulders and looped my arm round his neck and dragged him roughly towards me with all the force my upper body could muster. I felt his vocal cords and neck cartilage crush under the force of my arms and as he struggled, as my arm cut off the blood flow to his neck and he became a limp ragdoll, I took a glance at Mrs faded-jeans and saw that she was slumped in her seat with eyes closed. Then my eyes clamped onto Mr. guy-at-the-back.
I could not believe what I saw.
**to be continued**


Michael Owende said...

Aliet You have a talent and you should be paid for such a piece. Be it a true story or fiction,one can easily identify with the flow and only feeeeel it

Jacob Aliet said...

Thanks a lot Michael. Your words are very encouraging.