Chapter Twenty Eight

 Jay gave me a satisfied nod.  “Today, you learn to sharpen your claws,” he said.  As I looked at my fingernails questioningly, he opened the heavy box.  He pulled out what looked like a mannequin made of dense rubber, with no arms or legs.  He saw me looking at my hands and laughed.  “Figure of speech.  Did you know kung fu was based on the movement of animals?”

 “I’d heard.”

 “Animals don’t learn kung fu.  They each have a specific defense or attack they use, for the most part.  A mantis snares, a snake bites, a squid blinds with ink and flees.  Each has its own dirty trick that it’s perfected.  I am going to teach you a few strikes that are meant to debilitate, or kill.  Well, just one strike for now.”

 Did I hear him right?  “Kill?”

 “I’m glad to see you’re not taking it lightly.  Very glad.  Yes, kill.  Potentially, anyway.  At any rate, you do this, and the fight’s over.”  He opened the other box, a hollow plastic base for the dummy to sit on.  “We’ll put him...  Here.”  He picked a spot in the corner of the area rug, against the wall.  He went to the other side of the basement and fetched two bags of play sand from a pile of them I hadn’t noticed before.  I tried to help, but could barely lift one.  The contents kept shifting.  “I’ve got it,” he said as he grabbed two more, pinching the corners between his thumb and first knuckle.  After bringing the rest over, he knelt and started pouring the sand into a hole in the base.

 “They made him look nice and scary,” I said, looking at the mannequin’s expression.

 “Picture it as Earl.  However, what I want you to practice is not getting scared, or angry, as you do it.  I want you to see him in front of you, and still remain calm and rational.  I want you to be able to think clearly, so that you can decide rationally if you really need to use what I’m going to show you.  And I do not want you to try this until you can do it with your eyes closed.”

 “My eyes closed?” I asked in surprise.  “I thought that was just in the movies.”

 “No.  Remember me telling you how I can see with my hands?”

 “Yes,” I said, and flushed with the memory of when and why he’d said so.

 “Sight isn’t your most important sense in a fight.  It’s touch.  You can’t rely on sight.  What if it’s dark?  What if you ran into a gang who likes to start fights by spraying paint into people’s eyes?  What if you’re crying, and so on.”

 He took a break from pouring.  We bowed to each other, and he had me put my hands up.  “Now, I’m going to tell you what to do so you’re ready for it, giving you an advantage you don’t get in a fight.  I am going to strike toward your face.  Just like this.”  He showed a slow strike, stopping just shy of contact with my nose.  “There.  You know what’s coming.  Now, block it.”  He put his hands on guard, and snapped a hand through to give me a hard tap on my forehead.  “See?  Even knowing what to expect, you couldn’t block it.”

 “What’s your point?” I asked, annoyed.

 “Now we’ll do the same thing, but with your eyes closed.”

 “What?”

 “Close your eyes,” he said softly.  I did, and felt the back of his hand against the back of mine.  “Feel my hand.  When I strike, deflect it.”  I did as he told me, and to my own amazement was able to push the strike to the side on time.  I opened my eyes, unable to repress a smile.  He shared it with me.  “Do you believe me now?”

 “Yes.”

 “I want you to be able to rely on this strike so well you can do it with your eyes closed,” he repeated, knowing I would understand this time.  “The chances of needing to in an actual situation are pretty slim, but so are the chances of being able to see perfectly.  What is likely is you might have your vision obscured by tears, or have to look at him out of the corner of your eyes.  You need to be strong and comfortable with this.  I’ll ask you another question.  What is the weakest point on a male’s body?”  He knelt and started pouring in the last two bags.

 I paused, thinking that everybody knew this.  This has to be a trick question.  “His balls?”

 Jay smiled and shook his head.  “They are a weak point, if you hit them.  Trouble is, they aren’t always in exactly the same spot.  They could be off to a side, for instance.  It’s also an easy kick to dodge.”  He finished with the last bag of sand, stood and dusted his hands.  “Show me a front kick.  Slow,” he added humorously.  I did, and he shifted his hips slightly, blocking access.  “A slight turn and the kick’s wasted.  Plus, now he knows what you just tried and he’s angry.  Another thing is, if he’s drunk, which I think can be expected of him, even if you land it right the pain might not catch up with him for a very dangerous few seconds.”

 “Fine, what’s the weakest point?”

 “Eyes and throat,” he said simply.  “Hold your hand like this.”  He held his fist up, then extended his second row of knuckles with his thumb tucked along the side.  “We called it a leopard’s paw.  It’s also known as a fore-knuckle fist.  Its advantages are extra reach, and it’s narrower to fit into smaller target areas.  A fist doesn’t fit well under a chin.  This strike...”  He spun and struck the mannequin in the neck at an angle.  “Is one of those dirty tricks.  It has disadvantages as well, mainly that it’s not strong unless you’ve trained a lot at it.  Even then, it’s got nothing on a real fist for punching power.  However, the trachea itself isn’t especially strong.  This strike is for softer areas.”

 I made the fist myself, and looked at it.  “When I said sharpen your claws, I meant train yourself to do this strike, and this strike alone.  I want you to get so good at it you can do it in a heartbeat.  Just enough to make someone struggle for air while you run to a neighbors.  Remember our very first lesson.  The best defense is escape.  Don’t stay and fight.”

 “Can I try?”  He bowed himself out of the way, and I struck.  The blow landed clumsily on the mannequin’s jaw, and hurt my hand.  “Ow!”  I hadn’t even made it move, while Jay’s strike had bent it to the side.

 “Here,” he said.  He rubbed my hand softly a bit.  “I’m sorry, I just figured it best if you know what it feels like if you do it wrong.  You don’t have to do it fast when you’re learning.  Form and precision come first.  It takes a lot of practice.  Make the fist again.”  When I did, he traced a line along my wrist to the end of it.  “First, imagine a steel rod inside.  It’ll help you keep it straight and firm.  Now, show a slow strike, and press into the side of his windpipe.”  I did.  “There.  Do you feel pressure anywhere?”

 “This knuckle,” I pointed.

 He nodded.  “It’s bent a little.  Do this...”  He straightened it the slightest bit.  “Feel better?”

 “Yes, but it’s still hard to hold it like this.”

 “You’re just starting.  That’s what I mean by form and precision.  If you clip his shoulder or jaw, you’re as likely to hurt yourself.  Practice diligently, and you’ll have a great escape move.  Try it out of the blue...”  He shrugged.  “You know already.”

 I nodded my thanks, and tried with the other hand, remembering how he always stressed practicing symmetrically.  He smiled at that, and watched as I alternated.  “Good.  You have the basic idea.  I’m going to leave this one to you, to practice in private.  Say nothing of it to Madison.  I won’t watch you, either.  You don’t need my scrutiny, though I will of course answer any questions that come up.  Practice it a lot.  Go slow and strong at first, like you’re doing.  Try different stances, even weak ones.  Do it with your elbow in different positions.”  He reached out and turned my hand over.  “Try it with your palm inverted like this.  Come from the side, or up underneath, but always hit at a slight angle.  Find which feels strongest to you.  Then work on speed and targeting.  Finally, when you’re ready, combine the strength and speed.”

 “Is this the only move you’re going to show me?”

 “Yes.  It’s better to master one move so well that it becomes instinct, than to try to mess around with a bunch of them.  When the moment comes, you don’t want to be thinking about what to do.  Make this one instinctive, reflexive.”

 I wasn’t satisfied.  “What about having a backup move?”

 “Maybe when you get this one down.”

 I looked at my hands again.  My fore-knuckles were red already, from only a few strikes each.  “Why are you showing me this, if you’re against it?  Not that I don’t appreciate it,” I hastened to add, “but I’m just wondering.  I feel like you’re going against your own principles, for me.”

 “Perhaps I am.”  He went and sat on the floor, with his back against the wall.  He looked sad.

Reviews

[Sarah]

Interesting chapter. I am curious as to why Jay would go against his own morals to teach Laura this move. Perhaps he finds her in a much more dangerous situation than she perceives herself. Either way, the dialogue in this chapter is very natural. Not much action or emotion involved. Simply telling which can become boring in a sense. Not necessarily bad, just more details to move the story forward.

I'm actually very shocked that this move could "kill" and that Jay would teach it to Laura. I never expected it, and I guess I saw Jay as someone who would want to confront Earl himself in order to protect Laura. Good chapter.

[Christopher Miller]

That's pretty much why, yes. More of the dialogue than you might think comes in later on.