Wilderness Paradise Pt. 05

Danny had covered our tracks using a leafy branch to wipe away our footprints and resurrect the trampled blades of grass – he called it 'Backwoods Smarts'! I just hoped he had done a good enough backwoods job.

The man stood up and looked around, squinting against the evenings glare; his movements were quick and decisive, almost to the point of being herky-jerky. He walked on the balls of his feet with the bounce of a gymnast. He wasn't very tall, maybe five-nine or ten, but he was thick and I knew instinctively that he was trouble. I was right.

He scanned the area and without hesitation, made a beeline towards the place we had left Andrew. He was halfway up the incline when I realized that this was it.

I stepped into the clearing and called, "Hey, asshole, you looking for me?"

The man stopped and spun around, ducking as he moved. He was crouched low, knees bent and ready to spring into action. He studied me and then straightened up.

"Who are you?" he asked his voice hoarse and soft, his eyes darting to the left and right of me.

"I'm your fuckin' nightmare, motherfucker! You shouldn't have messed with my sister!"

He studied me for a few moments then laughed and made his way back towards me. He reminded me of a wild animal, a wolf, sizing up a large prey. We were about five yards apart when he stopped. I could see his eyes, pale blue, almost translucent, gleaming with excitement. He was an adrenalin junkie a bit like me.

We stood eyeing each other, saying nothing, moving in a slow, counterclockwise circle. He had crouched again, making himself even smaller, offering less of a target. This was not a scuffle in the gym or a barroom fight; this was the real thing and what was at stake was life and death. I was trying to get a read on him and recognized the trap a second too late. He was a southpaw and had moved me into his left hand. I caught the flash of the blade just as he swung his arm in a lightning quick arc. It was a knuckle knife with a curved, axe-like blade that swept across his fist. I jerked back and felt it nick my pectoral slicing through the shirt. That was close, too damn close.

He laughed again except that it sounded like a snarl and kept the knife in a twisting, compact motion, held close to his body. He was bent over, his arms criss-crossing in small loops that prevented a counterstrike to his body. He was quick with catlike reflexes so I wasn't going to be able to surprise him; I would have to lure him in. The problem I faced was the knife - being right handed, my best shots were to his left side and that's where the danger was.

I faked a jab but he didn't flinch and instead made a quick lunge at my neck that I managed to parry away harmlessly. And, before he could back up, I threw a short left elbow, catching him high on the head that sent him stumbling. But he regained his balance almost immediately. He was back, crouched low, moving forward, shifting his weight from one foot to the other using the slashing blade to force me slowly backwards. It was then that I realized his ploy. There was a drop of hundred or so feet and he was moving me towards it to force me over.

I tried circling away, to reverse positions but he was like a boxer, cutting off the ring. Any lateral move on my part was met with a counter move that kept me pinned. He was quicker than me so I had to get this to the ground. If I could get a hold of him, it would be over.

I faked with the left again but this time he flinched and I threw a left front kick catching him high on the chest sending him tumbling backwards but he rolled with the blow and was up again, coiled and ready but with a different look in his eyes. I could sense a subtle change in his manner. The two blows he had taken had him concerned. He faked with the left using the knife to distract me, making me recoil but I moved into the right hand that he threw almost simultaneously. It caught me flush on the side of the head, messing with my equilibrium and while I staggered back he came forwards slashing wildly with the fisted scimitar. I kicked out in self-preservation and felt the pain shoot up my leg.

He had sliced a deep gash through the muscle almost to the bone. He slashed again and this time it caught me on my arm, not very deep but enough to make it bleed. He was carving me up like a turkey at Thanksgiving.

He kept pressing, using the knife in short compact arcs, inching forward forcing me to retreat. It was that or risk getting sliced up and when I glanced backwards, I was only a few feet from the edge. This was fucked up. There are moments in a conflict when hope begins to fade and desperations sets in. That's when you make mistakes. I was getting there. I didn't have a solution for his speed and reflexes and the knife gave him a distinct advantage. I threw caution to the wind and charged him, throwing a flying knee and maybe it was the surprise but it struck home, knocking him over.

This was the opening that I had been looking for. While he was scrambling to get up, I was on him, forcing him back to the ground. We rolled over several times but ended up with him on top, straddling my stomach. I grabbed his left wrist firmly and pushed it backwards looping my left arm under it in a Kimura and then jerked it back and up, behind him. I was going to break his arm. But he was obviously experienced in Brazilian Jiujutsu and had seen this move before. He rolled over, untwisting his arm at the same time and pulled away breaking my grip and was on his feet before I had a chance to recover my position. He rushed forward and stomped down, his heel aiming for my head. I had no option but to roll out from under him and was almost back up when I lost my footing and as I did, I fell over the edge. I tumbled wildly down the incline before I could straighten up, trying to grab at anything to break the fall and just as I neared the drop-off that would have had me falling into the abyss, my fingers hooked onto a rock. I held on tight, stabilizing myself and when I looked up, I saw him standing on the ledge, about twenty five feet above me, with a rock the size of a pumpkin in his hands, poised to hurl it towards me ...

******

End of Part 5