Ratio(105)

He grinned for only a moment, and then releveled his gun at her chest.

“You are a man, right? Because those other two…well, I checked and there wasn’t much there, really. But a big, smart guy like you wouldn’t be so deficient, right?”

She took one last step, then only two steps away from him. She couldn’t risk any more. She stood still, her eyes locked onto his face, his gun pointed at her chest.

“So, are you a man or not?”

“You wanna come check?”

“Only if you promise to pull my hair and pinch my butt.”

He grinned. His gun hand relaxed ever so slightly and lowered a bit.

That was her chance, the opening she needed, exactly what she had been angling for. Bullets or not, she had to do something.

She swung her open hand at the gun. He was quick with it, but she caught just enough for the gun to drop to the floor.

He looked at her surprised, but fell to the floor for the gun. She dropped right after him, having guessed wrong about the gun being empty. He went after the gun because it was still loaded.

In the small space between the heavy coffee table and the couch, they fought feverishly for the gun. Back and forth it went from one set of fingertips to the other, until it finally ended up in his grasp.

A shot rang out in the house, and wall plaster shattered. They wrestled more. It was his body weight against her training. She had to be better at ground grappling than he was at gunplay.

June splayed her legs out and hooked an ankle around a coffee table leg so she couldn’t be flipped. She got an arm around his neck, using his armpit as a grip and pulled back, stretching his spine backwards. Her other hand still tried to get control of the gun. Or at least her finger through the pistol guard so it couldn’t be fired. Anything to keep the muzzle pointed away.

“Get off me, bitch,” he grunted as June pulled back on his neck.

As their hands frantically fought for the gun, he gave her an elbow to the jaw. Seeing stars for a moment was nothing new to her during a fight, and she grunted through the sharp but temporary pain. Unable to see the gun then, she pulled back on his neck even harder, trying to keep the gun aimed away from her.

Another shot rang out, followed by a jolt of pain in her ribs.

June almost let go. But she had to hang on. She had nieces to protect. She was so close to winning the fight.

June saw something she could do. The man’s arm was almost straight at the elbow. If she could lock it straight, she could turn his arm and force pain down the length of it. It was a struggle, but she got his elbow straight and locked, and began twisting. Arching her back as much as she could with the pain of a gunshot wound to her rib cage, she pulled hard.

“Give it up, prick…” she said into his ear.

The man groaned and the gun fell from his hand.

Just as she couldn’t hold him any longer, he elbowed her ribs and broke loose.

Before he could get to his pistol, June kicked it under the couch. They were now even in weaponry, but she was fighting injured.

She had no idea how bad her injury was. So far, it was only searing pain, and she could still take deep breaths. Wherever the bullet went, it hadn’t gone through her lungs, and maybe didn’t even penetrate her chest at all.

She couldn’t look. She had a desperate ex-con in front of her, and she needed to do something with him. She got both fists up and prepared to throw a cross.

Instead, he dropped to the floor to grab for the gun. It was a mistake, and she took full advantage of his sudden vulnerability. Raising one fist over her head, she sent a hammer strike to the back of his neck. He collapsed flat on the floor, but she kept with the hammer strikes, one after another, his neck, his head, his back, his neck again, until all that happened was his body bounced on the hardwood floor.

She stopped and stood upright, looking down at him. He didn’t move.

June arched her back, trying to ease some of the muscles, but there was a massive spasm in her chest wall, bending her sideways, her body protecting the injury. She lifted her shirt and looked at her wound.

The bullet had plowed a deep furrow through her flesh just below her bra, running right over a rib. She knew then the bullet hadn’t entered her body but had skipped off the rib and continued on past her. She had been lucky she was only deeply grazed. It didn’t mean she wasn’t in pain though.

One of the girls called from inside the guest room. “Auntie, can we come out?”

“Not yet, honey,” she called out. She still felt frantic over the scene in her home, strange men unconscious, her chest bleeding, the girls wanting out of the room. It took more effort than what she realized to talk after being shot. Panting for air barely helped. “Be good girls for auntie and stay in there. I’ll come get you in just a minute.”