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Authors: Alton L. Gansky
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bandanna. A.J. recognized the garb as that worn by a local street gang. “Looks real expensive.”
A.J. said nothing as he turned to face the gang members.
“I bet a man with a suit like that must carry a lot of cash,” said the one with the bandanna. “How about it, man. You got money for me?”
“No,” A.J. replied firmly. “I didn’t bring my wallet.”
“You wouldn’t be lying to us, would you? We don’t like liars.”
A.J. knew he should turn and run. There was no doubt that he could outdistance them in short order, but he also knew that at least one of them had a gun. Instead of running, A.J. laughed.
“What’s so funny, man?” the youth asked harshly, spitting out his words. “You laughing at me?”
“Let me get this right,” A.J. said. “You don’t like liars. A gang of thieves, bullies, rapists, and killers are okay, but liars are beneath you.”
“You know what I’m gonna do, man?” the gang member said viciously as he pulled a .38 police special from under his shirt andpointed it at A.J.’s chest. “I’m gonna shoot you in the head, steal your money, and take your fancy running suit. Do you find that funny, man?” The hood then nodded to the other two gang members, who approached A.J. and took hold of his arms.
To the gunman A.J. said, “How old are you? Twenty? Twenty-one?”
“Old enough to blow your brains all over this street.”
“Maybe this question is easier for your twisted little mind to answer: Are you the leader?”
“Yeah. So?”
A.J. smiled, nodded, then with astonishing speed he swung his arms back and then upward, breaking the grip of his would-be captors. With the same fluid motion he grabbed their faces in his large hands, and with all of his well-honed strength he smashed their skulls together with a sickening thud that echoed down the street. The two men slumped to the sidewalk unconscious. Without wasting a moment, A.J. turned sideways and rushed the gunman. A.J. heard the shot fired and saw the flash from the muzzle, but his sudden move to the side kept him from being hit. Half a moment later, A.J. had the gunman’s outstretched arm pinned under his own left arm with the gun pointed behind him.
With his right hand, A.J. seized the gang member by the throat and squeezed enough to cause pain, but not enough to close his trachea or pinch off the carotid arteries. A.J. wanted him conscious.
“I don’t like you or hoods like you,” A.J. said viciously, his eyes wide and his jaw clamped shut so that he had to force the words through his teeth. “You are leeches who live off the blood and terror of others. You tear down the good that others do. Day after day I see your kind threatening and torturing the innocent, as if you have some right to take what’s not yours. For you, my friend, that ends today.” The hood struggled to free himself, but A.J.’s adrenaline-aided strength was too much for him.
Anger boiled in A.J., anger that was fueled by the death of Dr. Judith Rhodes and now the loss of the
Sea Maid
. His heart beatstrenuously, and adrenaline seemed to pour into his veins by the gallon. He felt strong and alive and powerful. “The only question here is, do I kill you or just maim you? Do you know what the word
maim
means, my young friend?” The man struggled to free himself, but A.J. squeezed his throat until the man’s eyes widened. “It means to mutilate, cripple, and disfigure. If that’s too complicated, then let me say it in a way you’ll understand.”
In one rapid motion, A.J. turned on the balls of his feet, placed his hip into the side of gunman, and threw him headlong to the ground where his head bounced off the concrete. The gang member dropped the gun. A.J. grabbed his victim’s hand, pulled his arm up, and twisted it forcefully until his attacker groaned. “This leaves you with one arm to redeem yourself. If I see you with a weapon again, I’ll use it to kill you and everyone you love.” A.J. placed one foot on the
A.J. said nothing as he turned to face the gang members.
“I bet a man with a suit like that must carry a lot of cash,” said the one with the bandanna. “How about it, man. You got money for me?”
“No,” A.J. replied firmly. “I didn’t bring my wallet.”
“You wouldn’t be lying to us, would you? We don’t like liars.”
A.J. knew he should turn and run. There was no doubt that he could outdistance them in short order, but he also knew that at least one of them had a gun. Instead of running, A.J. laughed.
“What’s so funny, man?” the youth asked harshly, spitting out his words. “You laughing at me?”
“Let me get this right,” A.J. said. “You don’t like liars. A gang of thieves, bullies, rapists, and killers are okay, but liars are beneath you.”
“You know what I’m gonna do, man?” the gang member said viciously as he pulled a .38 police special from under his shirt andpointed it at A.J.’s chest. “I’m gonna shoot you in the head, steal your money, and take your fancy running suit. Do you find that funny, man?” The hood then nodded to the other two gang members, who approached A.J. and took hold of his arms.
To the gunman A.J. said, “How old are you? Twenty? Twenty-one?”
“Old enough to blow your brains all over this street.”
“Maybe this question is easier for your twisted little mind to answer: Are you the leader?”
“Yeah. So?”
A.J. smiled, nodded, then with astonishing speed he swung his arms back and then upward, breaking the grip of his would-be captors. With the same fluid motion he grabbed their faces in his large hands, and with all of his well-honed strength he smashed their skulls together with a sickening thud that echoed down the street. The two men slumped to the sidewalk unconscious. Without wasting a moment, A.J. turned sideways and rushed the gunman. A.J. heard the shot fired and saw the flash from the muzzle, but his sudden move to the side kept him from being hit. Half a moment later, A.J. had the gunman’s outstretched arm pinned under his own left arm with the gun pointed behind him.
With his right hand, A.J. seized the gang member by the throat and squeezed enough to cause pain, but not enough to close his trachea or pinch off the carotid arteries. A.J. wanted him conscious.
“I don’t like you or hoods like you,” A.J. said viciously, his eyes wide and his jaw clamped shut so that he had to force the words through his teeth. “You are leeches who live off the blood and terror of others. You tear down the good that others do. Day after day I see your kind threatening and torturing the innocent, as if you have some right to take what’s not yours. For you, my friend, that ends today.” The hood struggled to free himself, but A.J.’s adrenaline-aided strength was too much for him.
Anger boiled in A.J., anger that was fueled by the death of Dr. Judith Rhodes and now the loss of the
Sea Maid
. His heart beatstrenuously, and adrenaline seemed to pour into his veins by the gallon. He felt strong and alive and powerful. “The only question here is, do I kill you or just maim you? Do you know what the word
maim
means, my young friend?” The man struggled to free himself, but A.J. squeezed his throat until the man’s eyes widened. “It means to mutilate, cripple, and disfigure. If that’s too complicated, then let me say it in a way you’ll understand.”
In one rapid motion, A.J. turned on the balls of his feet, placed his hip into the side of gunman, and threw him headlong to the ground where his head bounced off the concrete. The gang member dropped the gun. A.J. grabbed his victim’s hand, pulled his arm up, and twisted it forcefully until his attacker groaned. “This leaves you with one arm to redeem yourself. If I see you with a weapon again, I’ll use it to kill you and everyone you love.” A.J. placed one foot on the
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