[Dean's World] Dean: A Vignette

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Thu Nov 2 03:01:13 EST 2006


Posted by Dean:
A Vignette
http://www.deanesmay.com/posts/1162454074.shtml


   As they approached I naturally guided us to the right to pass them,
   but suddenly they spread out in front of us. I tensed a bit, trying to
   stay calm, see what they wanted. âHey, dudeâ¦â I started. But that was
   as far as I got.

   Without so much as a sound, Zsallia lashed out with her right foot,
   kicking the one on the right in the knee as she swung the heavy end of
   her cane hard against the jaw of the one in the center. The kid with
   the smashed knee grunted and fell back, while the other one hit the
   gravel like a sack full of batteries. As her cane clattered to the
   ground, in one smooth move she pushed me back with her shoulder,
   hopped once, then seemingly out of nowhere pulled out a pistol and
   leveled it at the last guy standing, who was only just reacting. His
   eyes crossed as she moved forward, favoring her left leg, and pressed
   the barrel of the big snub-nosed revolver against his forehead. Her
   thumb very deliberately drew the hammer back until it clicked.

   She swore softly, and said something I didnât understand. Then, her
   voice radiating command: âIf you would be so kind as to get on your
   knees. Now.â

   It wasnât until then that I saw the knife in his hand, and noticed
   that the kid on the ground spitting blood and teeth had a chain in his
   hand. The other was holding his knee and moaning; it looked like sheâd
   bent it sideways, hyper-extending and maybe breaking it. The kid with
   the gun to his forehead dropped the knife and slowly kneeled.

   It had all happened in no more than five seconds. My heart was
   pounding, but she wasnât even breathing hard. âAny of you makes a
   move, I turn his head into a canoe,â she said, her voice grating but
   steady. âLie down, little man,â she said to knife-boy, who was
   shaking, his eyes big as saucers. As he lay down, I noticed sheâd put
   a red dent from the barrel of the gun into his forehead.

   âCould you fetch my cane, please?â she asked, her voice friendly but
   without taking her eyes off the three of them. I snatched it up and
   looked behind us. People were walking back and forth across the
   entrance of the alleyway. All it would take would be for one of them
   to look our way.

   âWe need to go, now,â I said as I stepped up beside her. She was so
   small, but at that moment, she seemed enormous. She neatly tucked the
   gun in her coat pocket, kicked the kid on the ground in the side of
   the head, and then cursed loudly, in an almost bloodcurdling yowl. As
   people passing the alleyway behind us alley started and turned toward
   us, she grabbed my arm and deliberately strode toward the parking
   structure. âTheyâre lucky I didnât take their balls as souvenirs,â she
   muttered, with a disturbingly matter-of-fact tone. Then, solicitously,
   almost motherly: âAre you all right?â

   âUm, yeah,â I said, my voice quavering just a little. Iâd been in
   street scuffles before, but Iâd never seen anything like that in my
   life. My head was reeling. âWow,â I said, âwhat the hell was that?â
   But she just flashed me a pretty smile as we emerged from the
   alleyway. I looked around nervously, but no one on this end of the
   alley had seen anything. Suddenly, it was like weâd stepped into
   another reality, and nothing had happened at all.

   âTurn his head into a canoe?â I asked.

   âTombstone. I always did like that movie,â she said.

   âYou have to understand, if there is one thing I do not tolerate, itâs
   bottom-feeders.â

   We reached the car and made a quick exit, turning west as the sound of
   sirens approached. I wasnât too concerned about the police so long as
   we were gone, butâ¦

   âWhereâd you get the gun?â

   âI know people,â she replied, and refused to say more about it.

   We drove silently for a while, and she turned on the radio, humming a
   bit as she listened to some old rock and roll. I pulled into the hotel
   lot and parked towards the back. âMay I?â I asked.

   âWhat? The gun?â She seemed surprised, but took it from her pocket,
   checked the chamber, and handed it to me. It was heavy, a snub-nose
   Ruger .357 with a smallish handle. I checked the loads and nearly got
   sick. âMagnum hollow-points? Are you insane? If it doesnât break your
   arm itâll make you deaf.â

   âWell, I prefer my Army .45, but an automatic is tough to manage
   one-handed. This came highly recommended.â

   âYeah, Iâm sure.â

   She stowed the pistol in a holster behind her back. I was a bit
   surprised that it was so well concealed. She let me walk her back to
   her suite and gave me a peck on the cheek at her door as we parted
   company. âMerry Christmas to you and your family,â she said.

   I didnât see her again until after New Yearâs.

   ----

   More Methuselah's Daughter [1]HERE.

References

   1. http://www.amazon.com/Methuselahs-Daughter-John-Eddy/dp/184728440X/sr=8-1/qid=1162454000/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/103-5449651-2171053?ie=UTF8&s=books/deansworld01-20



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