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“Oh, am I? Well, I’m sorry about that, Mr Delvacio, but you’re a very naughty boy. You owe our mutual friend a considerable amount of money. What is it now, err…” I pulled Mr Ritter’s list of names from my pocket and exaggerated a whistle. “$53,268, plus the agreed interest, which makes it an even sixty thousand dollars. And well, he wants what’s owed.”
If I’d been expecting any sort of reaction, I would have been disappointed. Rather, Jasper just looked bored by the news.
“Ah I see, you’re a messenger boy,” he sneered, then suddenly his face lightened and he let out a small laugh that held little humour. Maybe he’d had a few of these sorts of messages already. “Okay, so you’ve delivered the message and you can tell Ritter he’ll get his money. Now my friends here will see you back to your car.”
“Err…” Edging back, I did my best to look embarrassed and shoved the paper back into my jacket pocket as the three lumberjacks started down the steps towards me. “No, I’m not a messenger boy, Mr Delvacio. I’m a delivery boy. And I didn’t bring a car.”
They fanned out. The first moved to my right, the second to the left, half encircling me. They could have been twins, except the one on the right wore a traditional logger’s fur hat with earflaps, while the other had a beanie.
The third, however, was the very walking embodiment of Paul Bunyan and came straight at me, driving me further back.
“Really, well that’s a shame because it’s a long walk back to town. You better watch yourself. There’s a lot of dangerous animals here in the woods, you know. We lose guys every couple of months. Bears. Mountain Lions. They’ll drag bodies into the woods and sometimes they’re never found again. Best you go now before it gets dark. You might just make it back safe.”
The threat was as clear as day.
Nice try, but two could play that game.
“Well, thank you for the warning, Mr Delvacio, but I think I better stay.” Even as I said the words, I raised my hands defensively, passively, showing them I wasn’t a threat as I backed away. “After all, if the animals got me and I never delivered your reply, well, who knows what could happen. Especially as you’ve got an awful lot of wood and machinery here, Mr Delvacio, and it’s very dangerous, leaving it all piled up together like that. The two don’t mix. This time of year, storms come and go like that.” I clicked my fingers, and as if to prove my point, a bellow of thunder boomed overhead, right on cue. “One bolt of lightning, one little spark, and this whole place could go up in flames. Then you’d have nothing, and then how would you pay Mr Ritter what you owe him, hmmm?”
Jasper’s smile was gone by the time I finished. He’d caught my meaning, recognised the threat. His answer was exactly what I’d expected. “Tom!”
Paul Bunyan, or apparently Tom, grinned and closed in. In a grizzled voice, he barked “Hey pal, Mr Delvacio said it’s time for you to-”
He tried to grab me, one huge paw sweeping out, missing me by miles as I appeared to slip in the mud. I tumbled sideways, then pivoted beneath the arm, thick and bulging with solid muscle, to drive my fist into his ribs as I went.
He grunted with the pain and twisted to follow, that same huge arm swinging like an axe to chop me down, but I’d already danced back and out of range. My hands back up in the unthreatening pose like nothing had happened. “Oh I’m sorry, gentleman, you’re making me very nervous, that’s all.”
Beanie and Fur Cap just looked from me to Tom, and then at each other, not sure what had just happened. Guess this wasn’t going according to their script. They’d probably been taking odds on if I’d run away or just piss myself. That I’d fight back would never have even crossed their minds. Maybe they’d let me put a bet on it. The way things were looking right then, I’d be in for quite a windfall, if they’re still able to walk after that is.
Except, it seemed Tom wouldn't give me the chance.
“Bastard,” he snarled, his grin gone and rainwater rolling down his face into his beard. He’d be feeling the sucker punch, and it wouldn’t have done anything to improve his disposition. Angry but confident, he charged bodily, like a bull at the run. He knew how to fight. He knew he was bigger and stronger. Those facts made him think he would win.
And that was his mistake.
Yes, he could fight. He would have had a lot of fights over the years. Drunken bar brawls late at night, where size and brute strength were all that mattered. Yes, he was bigger than me, and probably stronger. However, I doubt he’d ever fought someone like me before. While I’d been putting down big bastards like him all my life.
I wasn’t strong, not like this guy, all muscle and brute force, but I was fast, fast and savage. That was how I’d survived my years on the streets of New York City. Down there, in the rat’s nests, when the big guy walks up and tells you what he wants, you either put him down quickly, or you bend over and prepare for penetration.
And I wasn’t into buggery.
So as he charged forward, I sidestepped again, twisting out of his path at the last moment. He carried on past me, too big and heavy to stop and react as I rugby tackled his flank and sent him skidding into the mud and shit. He went down hard, all that solid muscle suddenly working against him.
The bigger you are, as they say…
I would have finished him there and then, while I had the chance. Queensbury’s rules were for public schoolboys on the playground. In the real world, a fight was dirty and to win, you had to play dirtier than all the rest. Unfortunately, Fur Cap and Beanie had finally taken stock and had joined the fray. They were both big lads, not quite so large as Tom, but faster. It was obvious why Jasper had got them to watch his back.
Beanie was closer and had one huge paw pulled back in a swing. Leaving the bigger man spluttering in the mud, I moved to meet him, my left raised, catching the inside of the swing before it could fall, my right arching up, elbow leading.
It had never ceased to amaze me how many people made the mistake of leading with a punch. Oh, a punch could lay a man out sure enough, but there were so many little bones in the hand, so many things that could snap or break if things went badly. The elbow, however, was a joint encased in a shell of solid bone that packed a hit like a solid iron mace, if used correctly.
Beneath the mess of his wild, bushy beard, my elbow met the man’s jaw with a crack, snapping his head up and back. His body followed as his legs, still trying to run, skidded wildly in the mud. One hand snapped out as he fell, trying to grab me, but I’d already twisted away, just managing to duck under Beanie’s attack.
The third woodcutter was faster still. No sooner had I avoided one meaty fist than the other was coming, glancing off my shoulder, driving me back another step. He followed, fists jabbing for my face, but punching only the rain as I weaved and ducked, then stepped in and answered by driving my knee into his crotch. He gasped and doubled over in pain, into the path of my fist that slammed into his jaw and sent him crashing to the ground. A hard kick ensured he’d stay down.
No sooner had I laid Beanie down, however, than something huge smashed down on my shoulder, numbing it to the bone. I wheeled with it and found Tom back on his feet, advancing on me, rain running down his mud splattered face. He grinned, a feral toothed grin, and a pair of huge arms suddenly enveloped me in a bear hug.
“You’ll pay for that,” Fur Hat growled wetly, hauling me back and off my feet and crushing me to his chest. The closeness made me want to gag. The guy really needed to invest in a few packs of extra strong TicTacs, and maybe a can or two of Lynx.
