34
DIMITRI YUMASHEV GASPED desperately for air. Something cut deep into the orb of his apple. Slowly squeezing the cricoid cartilage back into his throat: choking the thick jugular that lined the side of his neck. Something else dangled at his back too. It was heavy. Substantial. Pressing hard into his spine. It was him. He couldn’t believe it. How could he still be alive? Didn’t he die already?
He grabbed and pulled at the object strangled around his neck. Then thrusted his left elbow backwards. Several times to the back of his body. It smashed his opponent’s torso repeatedly. Heard the man dangling on his back groan and yelp. Then coughed violently. But the grip around his neck never slacked. He hung on to him like a stubborn tick on the back of a dog. Refusing to let go no matter how hard you pulled it.
Desperate, he bent down towards his knee and swung his left hand over his back. Tried to grab the man by his skull. He got it and yanked him forward. But he didn’t budge. Instead he felt something sink into the flesh of his back. Dimitri grimaced in pain. But he couldn’t yell. The grip around his neck had tightened. Then he backed himself hard against the wall of the rest room. Heard a loud thud. The man coughed and jerked. Dimitri backed up hard into the wall again. Did it several times. But the grip around his neck never slacked. It tightened instead. Then he heard a click. He choked and gagged. Felt the lightheadedness set in. The muscles around his throat stiffened. His vision burred. Felt his consciousness slowly slipping away. This was bad, he thought. He was asphyxiating.
* * *
James Kendrick pulled as hard as he could. Felt the edges of the belt cut and saw through his bleeding fingers. But the man’s neck was built like a horse. Plus he was jerking and yanking the belt away from his neck. He felt he was losing his grip and then drove the base of his knee into man’s back to gain more leverage and yanked the belt back. But the leather strap still slipped. There wasn’t enough friction for James to hold onto. The gigantic man twisted his body to his side and slammed his elbow repeatedly into James’ torso. He felt a rib crack. He coughed violently. Then spurted blood from his mouth. But he didn’t let go of the belt. He gripped it with all the strength he could muster.
But the huge man didn’t give up either. He bent his body over and grabbed James by his skull. Tried to heave and throw him over his back. But James resisted. He bucked and kicked and trashed him. But he was weak from his earlier encounter with the man. Felt his weight being dragged over the man’s nape. He couldn’t resist the pull. He’d hung on for as long as he could. Desperate, he bit the man’s back and held onto it: long enough so that he could yank the belt a bit further. Sank his teeth deeper to steady his grip. Felt the belt slowly slipping from his fingers. But he held onto it and pulled it back in further. Then with one final desperate attempt he flicked the hook of the buckle open and shoved into the nearest hole it could reach: right before the powerful hand yanked him over his back and threw him onto the stained marble ground of the restroom floor.
James crashed hard on his back. Felt another rib crack. But he tried to shove the pain aside and struggle up to his feet. His knees felt wobbly and shaky. He’d barely the strength to keep his body upright. He hadn’t even recover from the last blow to his head. And now he’d cracked two ribs in between.
This man was no joke. Over the years as a combat rescue officer, he’d gone head to toe with many a dangerous and formidable enemies. Sometimes he’d got sliced. Sometimes he’d cracked his skull open. Broke a bone or two. Pummeled repeatedly in the face and in the gut like a boxer would be punched. But he could always handle it. He could always match or supersede his opponent in terms of speed and skill. Or by strength and stamina. And when it came to hand-to-hand combat, he always had the upper hand. The Air Force had trained him well. In a special type of fighting method. Called the Linear Engagement method. Good for twisting and interlocking an opponent’s joints. Excellent for bending and driving an enemy to the ground. Good for neutralizing an enemy within seconds by aiming for the most vulnerable points of his body. Like the solar plexus. Or like the Adam’s apple. Or the joints and the eyes. But that kind of technique wasn’t going to work here. Not against a man who was built like a giant grizzly bear. And who’d the stamina to take several hits to his weakest points and still stand on his feet like nothing had happened. And he’d brushed James off like he was swathing a fly. James didn’t have the upper hand here. What he had was more like a hit-and-run tactic. A cat and mouse game.
James knew, the only chance he’d was to bring this opponent down was to bring him down to his level. That’s what the belt was for. Strapped around his neck to smother the air supply into his lungs. Cut the oxygen to his brain. Starve his cognitive faculties and impair his motor skills. And it worked. The man’s face was turning a crimson red. He fell to his knees, trying to rip the belt from his neck. He gagged and choked and wheezed. Eyes, bloodshot red. But James knew that wasn’t going to stop him. It was just a matter of time before he tore the belt away from his neck. But it gave him enough time to think.
* * *
James rushed in. Swung an upper cut into the man’s jaw but the brute shielded the blow with his left arm. Then launched a jab into James’ torso. It connected. But lacked in power. Still a strong blow that inflicted pain. But it didn’t cripple James. And for the first time, that gave James the upper hand. He launched a side kick into the man’s side. But the man lifted his arm in time to block his kick. Then caught his leg and tried to throw James sideways. But it didn’t work. James quickly regained his balance. Then clasped his fist together and swung it directly into the man’s face. It smashed his nose. Broke the soft cartilage from its socket and dislocated it an awkward manner. The force plopped his head back and he fell reeling backwards to the floor. Then James lifted his boot and brought it stamping down on his larynx. The man caught the boot with his hands and pushed it back. James tried to force his boot down but the man didn’t let him. Then, out of nowhere, the man swung a pointed object into James’ leg. It punctured the varicose vein in his lower calf muscle severely. James screamed agonizingly. Felt the muscles in his legs twitch and go numb and funny. Like guitar strings snapping. Then the barbaric man swung his left leg upwards and drove his foot into James’s chin: knocking him off balance and falling him towards the ground.
James fell on his back clumsily. But he’d managed to avoid hitting his head against the marble ground. His leg hurt badly. There was a pen stuck in it. Blood oozed out profusely.
But, instead of pulling it out, James took a deep breath, and hammered his fist on the staked pen. It drove it through. Further into his leg. He screamed. Shouted in agony. Then looked down at his calf. The wound had stopped bleeding. It worked. The pen had plugged the hole and stopped the bleeding.
The man in front of him still tried to yank the belt from his neck. He was getting close to ripping it off. But the blood that streaked from his cuts made it slippery wet. James rose to his feet. Then noticed something. Water. It was overflowing from the sink in front of him. Where Lee lay unconscious with his head face down in it. Drowning slowly to death and didn’t even know it.
James became desperate. It seemed like he was fighting a losing battle. He saw the water that was pooling nearer to his feet. The man was still down on his knees. Still struggling to untangle the belt wrapped around his neck. Oblivious to the fact that his was literally soaking knee deep in it.
Then it snapped. The belt around his neck burst. Split in two. He held one end of the belt in each hand. Then drew a deep breath and coughed violently. Sucked it in like it was the first time in he’d taken a breath in his life. Then wasted no time in struggling to his feet. Panting and huffing and drawing as much breaths as he could. But still getting up to his feet. His pale white countenance turned a healthy florid red. He rested his arms over the sink, then steadied himself straight. But still asphyxiated from the lack of oxygen to his brain.
James knew he didn’t have much time. He was gaining his composure fast. And James c
ould barely put up a meaningful engagement. Not with two fractured ribs, a broken jaw and a pen staked in his leg. He wouldn’t last long under those circumstances. His body had limits too. They’d a mind of their own. James looked at the man in front of him and drew a deep breath.
He scanned the walls around him. Nothing. Then turned his head back and caught something attached to the wall behind him. Something, he thought, that could be used to his advantage. If he played his cards right. Something that could take down the beast in front of him once and for all. But he’d to time it perfectly.
James slowly rose to his feet. Then backed himself against the wall behind him. Felt the object press into his back. He leaned in more. Then positioned his arms behind him, felt around for the base of the object’s case with his palms and gripped onto it. He yanked it. With all the strength that he could. Nothing. Then yanked it again. This time, the plastic case dislodged itself from the wall. But didn't disconnect. Something held it back. It felt taut. It was tied to the wall behind him. Perfect.
James kept his front facing the brute man in front of him. He’d risen to his feet. Then spat on the floor and brushed his bloodied mouth with his palms. He eyed James viciously. Beady eyes blazing with animalistic rage. He screamed. Then charged James like a rhinoceros at full speed. James felt his heartbeat race. Braced for the impact.
The barbarian bulleted at him.
He swung his fist in the air; aiming it at James’ bashed features. Then brought it down with a vengeance that spelt rage. That spelt frustration. That spelt contempt. He hoped in his heart that his brains would splat all over the wall like a crushed bug. Die a horrible and painful death. He roared in excitement. Right before his fist connected. But, instead crushing his head into his face, he smashed it into the wall behind James. His blow had missed his left ear by just an inch.
An excruciating pain surged through his arm. It jetted up. Right into the base of his skull. Then ran down across his spine and into the tip of his feet. He tried to pull his hand out from the hole. But he couldn’t. His entire body froze. The muscles in his arms and legs contracted rapidly. Then uncontrollably. His jaw locked shut. His teeth grinded brutally against each other. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air. And then he saw it. His fist had smashed a dangling wire jutting out from the wall.
A deadly doze of hundred-and-twenty volts coursed through his entire system and he couldn’t do anything about it. The wet fist. The drenched clothes. The continuous stream of water pooling under his feet. All an excellent conductor of electric. And it reeled him in closer and closer to the source of the current in the wall. He tried to pull away but the more he tried, the more it sucked him in. Like a giant black hole sucking everything in its path mercilessly.
A dark black ring slowly enveloped his vision. Then narrowed in rapidly. Until it left a small concentric circle that slipped in only a tiny ray of light. He resisted. Tried to hold on as long as he could. But it was futile. The circle closed. Then the blackness as deep as the ocean surrounded his entire being.
* * *
His eyes slowly cracked open. The light from the ceilings pierced him and blinded him momentarily. He blinked a few times. Then when he regained his vision he looked up and saw a dark silhouette staring down at him. He felt a gurgling sensation in his throat. Then felt it rising up to the cavity of his mouth. He threw his head to his side and hurled out a clear transparent liquid. Into the empty sink next to his face. Then stopped. Then took a deep breath and coughed violently. Felt the liquid in his mouth again and ejected it. Then he was done. The cloud in his head had disappeared. He felt better. Fresher. Stronger. And he slowly became aware of his surroundings. The dark silhouette became a familiar face. And he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw him.
* * *
James pulled Lee’s head out from the sink. He wasn’t breathing, so he slammed and hammered his fists repeatedly into his upper cavity. When nothing had happened, he opened Lee’s mouth and started mouth to mouth resuscitation. Then stopped, took a big breath and huffed the air down his throat again. Then pounded his chest again. This time Lee split open his eyes and threw up the water he’d sucked into to his lungs. He took a deep breath and yarked himself all over the sink again.
James felt a wave of relief when he saw that. Then drew a deep long breath. He’d gotten to Lee just in time. A couple of seconds more and he would have been a goner.
Prior to that, James himself had barely dodged a bullet. His head was nearly pulverized into a piece of pulp. If he’d not leapt onto the sink in time he would have met the same fate as the man on the marbled floor. Dead. Burnt like fried chicken.
The gamble had paid off. He’d put down the beast once and for all. And for the first time in a long time, James felt good. He felt victorious. He felt redemption. He’d gotten to Lee in time and saved him. He’d finally succeeded.
James sighed and then smiled at Lee with a set of crimson teeth tucked between his bruised and battered lips.
“Welcome back,” he quipped.
35
JAMES WATCHED FROM a safe distance. Lee approached a man nervously. A man, whom to James, was a sight for sore eyes. There was another woman standing right next to him. He didn’t recognize her. Then, in a distance, he caught sight of another two bodies. These ones he knew. Tim and Nancy. Sitting quietly on one of the benches near the gate: looking pale and tired and frightened. James felt sorry for them. They’d had gone through quite an ordeal. They were just kids after all. And in the last twenty-four hours, they had hustled and shifted, slept and dined, abandoned and picked up in various parts of the airports. It was a lot to ask from a child. Let alone two. But they had held their ground pretty well, James thought. Not bad for a couple of brats.
James too was still in pretty bad shape. He suffered a broken jaw. Two cracked ribs, a torn calf and not to mention a severe head concussion. In fact he’d died if he recalled correctly.
And that wasn’t all. Now he‘d to get out of the terminal undetected. With a pair of bloodied T-shirt and battered looks. But he’d gotten that covered: the TSA garment that the ‘Myasnik’ wore. And it came with a pair of dark shades. The perfect cover for his battered features. It did little to cover his puffed cheeks and distended jaw line, but it did enough to keep his swollen eyes and bashed nose hidden from sight.
He saw Lee speak to his brother. The woman beside him listened with absolute fascination. She did flashed a concerned look on her face at times. But James knew she could be trusted. John trusted her. And he wouldn’t have, if she couldn’t be trusted. Plus she was probably the CDC. That made her a civilian. Not military. Not FBI. Not CIA.
A few minutes passed. Then Lee stopped talking. He saw John and the woman nodding their heads in unison. Then Lee turned his back away from them and walked towards the end of the terminal. Towards the same lift that James and Lee had exited from earlier. John trailed him but the brunette waited behind. Probably for the kids. James knew where Lee was leading John to. To the unfinished parking complex. To retrieve the tablet that Lee had hidden in the passage way. James knew John would help him by getting security to open the steel door.
When they’d disappeared into the lift, James walked towards it, pressed a button and waited patiently for its doors to open again. It came down a minute later. Then boarded the empty lift. Pressed a button that led to the parking spaces below. When he got out he caught sight of the two men at the far end of the complex. Inspecting a steel door in front of them. They hadn’t notice him.
The construction workers had left a couple of equipment by the lift. A red cement mixer. A plate compacter. A big block making machine. He sneaked behind the block making machine and spied on them. John talked into a phone. Nodded his head up and down. Then punched several buttons on the keypad by the side of the steel door. Lee stood by him quietly. Anxiously watched him try several different combinations before the keypad finally beeped. The steel door unlocked and then he saw Lee push the door open. He peeked outside. Then nod
ded at his brother. Said something and disappeared out the door. John held the door open. Waited for Lee reappear. He did. Popped back into the parking space and kept one hand on the door. He opened it a bit more to let light into the dark space. In his other hand was the tablet. He had gotten it. Then saw him hand it to his brother. It was over.
James sighed in relief.
Then a huge figure leapt out of the aisle where Lee had ran down earlier. It was the Myasnik. He face was grossly disfigured. Flesh hung from his body here and there. His limbs spotted multiple open and bleeding wounds. But no doubt about it. It was him. Still alive. Still breathing. The semi-naked man pounced onto Lee and knocked him back out of the door. Lee slipped outside and tumbled down the stairs behind him. Then James saw the Myasnik launched a powerful blow into his brother’s gut. It fell him instantly. The tablet slipped away from his grip and bounced a couple of times on the floor before falling flat on its screen. The Myasnik jumped at it, grabbed the tablet and darted towards the elevator in front of him. Right next to where James lay hidden. Behind the block making machine and out of sight.
As the Myasnik jet passed him, James jumped from behind the big block making machine and tackled his legs. The Myasnik stumbled. Crashed onto the hard ceramic surface sideways. The tablet slip from his grip and fell. Then slid and bumped hard against the steeled doors of the lift.
Cardinal Rule: A James Kendrick Thriller Page 9