Skull of the Zipa PREVIEW CHAPTERS - Chuck Chitwood (good books to read for women .txt) 📗

on Ami and see what he says. Have a good workout.”

 

I grabbed my bag and ran across the street. As the sleepy town of Jaffa gradually stirred, tourists started riding their bikes or renting umbrellas and staking their claim of sand on the beach. The door to the academy pulled open easily enough but the all lights were out. I dropped my bag by the door and called out for Uncle Ami. No response.

 

I walked through the lobby onto the mat in the middle of the room. Pushing against the wall, I started stretching, pushing back on one foot and then the next to work out my quads. Suddenly, two hands grabbed me from behind slamming my face into the mat that hung on the wall. One of Uncle Ami’s surprises. They were something I had started to expect like in those Pink Panther movies my dad loves where Inspector Clouseau has instructed, Kato, to attack him suddenly and out of the blue to help keep him on his toes. Only it always ends badly for Clouseau.

 

I tried every trick I could think of. My foot stomped but could not connect with Ami’s feet. My elbows swung trying to connect with his temple, but I couldn’t turn enough. I tried dropping down into base formation like I was doing squats throwing him off balance, but I was pinned up against the wall. If he had been a real attacker, I would be dead or probably thrown into the trunk of some creep’s car.

 

Rage boiled up again, I refused to give up. I jumped up leaning into my attacker. Placing both feet firmly on the wall, I pushed backwards with full force sending both of us hitting the floor. His grip broke and I tried to scramble away. Yanking me by my foot, he sat on top of me and grabbed my throat.

 

“You’re dead now, my little myrtle.” Uncle Ami smiled. “I like the push off the wall. I didn’t teach you that. Good improvisation.”

 

“Yeah? Well, it didn’t work.” I sat up.

 

“Right, you made two mistakes. What are they?”

 

I hung my head and caught my breath. Suddenly, his teaching came back to me without having to think about it. “Rule number one, stay on your feet. Rule number two, attack don’t hesitate.”

 

“Pushing us both to the floor was a good idea, but you should have attacked me on the floor instead of trying to scramble out of here. Don’t run away immediately. Incapacitate your attacker so they can’t run after you. Then there’s rule number three…”

 

“Rule three? What’s that?” My breathing started to return to normal. “Rule number three is SPAT.”

 

“What, you want me to spit?”

 

“No spit. SPAT. Scan. Patience. Assess. Think. You have to learn to SPAT in two or three seconds. Scan your surroundings. People. Weapons. The lights were out. You should have kept your bag. It could be a weapon. Patience. You moved too quickly into a wide-open area. You should have stayed close to the exit. Assess your attacker and his position. When you’re up against a wall or if someone pins you to a car in a parking lot, you don’t have room to drop into base formation. Think attack. My attack immobilized you, but I was using both hands, therefore, I couldn’t be holding a weapon.”

 

“SPAT. Got it.” I went to get a drink of water from the fountain. “Uncle Ami, why, exactly, are you so gung ho about teaching me to beat the snot of people?”

 

“I taught your mother and look at her. Successful. Beautiful. Confident. Self-sufficient. You have to be able to defend yourself in today’s world.”

 

“But I don’t live in Israel. I live in New Providence. Nobody’s shooting at us. Sometimes I have to shove a tourist to get a seat at Ye Olde Bagel Shoppe, but I’ve never had to take anyone down for trying to get the last cinnamon raisin bagel. Besides, I’m only half-Jewish. Nobody is going to persecute me in New Providence. The people there aren’t like that.”

 

“Sit down, Hadassah.” We sat cross-legged on the sparring mat. “Do you know why I call you ‘my little myrtle’?

 

I shook my head. “Hadassah means ‘myrtle’. So, I guess that’s why. But you’re probably going to tell me I’m wrong.”

 

He laughed. “The myrtle tree is the national tree of Israel. Hadassah is the Hebrew name for Queen Esther. She didn’t think she would be persecuted either, but when the evil Persian viceroy plotted to kill all the Jews, Esther had to make a choice. Her bravery saved every Jew exiled in Persia.”

 

“But Ami I’m only half-Jewish. And besides it’s not really a race.”

 

“To the Jews, it is. Yes, technically, you are half Jewish, but in Judaism, the faith itself is passed down through the mother’s line. Therefore, you are all Jew, my dear. You need to embrace your heritage and your faith. God gave you all these gifts and talents for a reason and it’s not for giggling at the mall or batting your eyes at boys. I can only hope that you will never be directly persecuted. But there are those who will do it. And there will come a day where you will have to take a stand for something and you might find yourself all alone when you do. You need to be strong enough to stand tall.”

 

I thought about Courtney and her blonde bimbo brigade who cut me during tryouts for cheerleading and basketball. They constantly mocked my hair. I thought about how small I felt at school and how powerful I fell here at the Krav Maga academy.

 

Uncle Ami stood and walked over to grab a towel off one of the benches. “Maybe we should take break today and you can go ahead to the beach or grab a fruit smoothie at Fresh Juices Café on Shenkin Street.” He strolled to the lobby.

 

I thought for a second. I needed to find out who I was. I was tired of being scared, insecure. I stood up. “No. What are you, an old man? Scared of a little girl? Bring it on.”

 

“There are some awfully cute sailboarders out there. One of my students runs the rental stand. You may like him.”

 

“You’re just chicken.” I laughed and held up my fists.

 

“As you wish my little myrtle. No more mercy.”

 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

We started sparring again.

 

Chapter 13 - KRAV MAGA

 

Am I still dreaming? I am and I need to wake up. I need to keep running, but my mind is still black floating through clouds of memory.

 

The summer I turned sixteen flashes through my mind. It was the last summer I spent with my mom in Israel before her car accident. Every morning, my mom and I would run down the Mediterranean coast through the old city of Jaffa. Past the red and white striped lighthouse, we raced over the promenade into the old city by the clock tower built in 1906. Vendors were already setting up their colorful tents in the flea market, selling vibrant scarves and keffiyehs, hand-made jewelry, and religious icons. When we reached the top of the hill through the narrow cobblestone streets, we stopped at a little coffee shop called the Napoleon Café. The little fat dictator installed canons here in 1799. From this high point, all of Tel Aviv’s towers could be seen up the coast. The date palm trees waved in the air.

 

And I was happy. I can’t remember a time in my life when I had been happier. Everything about life seemed so perfect.

 

My mom bragged about my newfound confidence. After six years of Krav Maga training and making the track team as a freshman, I was really starting to rock. Courtney Even seemed to leave me alone for a time, but that would not last long. Mom and I talked about college, boys, and leaving home…

 

***

 

 

“Haddie, I know we push you sometimes. But I want you to know, it’s for your best.” She sipped her coffee. “Life can be hard and it’s scary out there on your own.”

 

“I can imagine.” Unsure where she was headed, I figured agreeing was the best bet.

 

“No, I mean it. When I came to college in America all alone and I didn’t know anyone. I lived in New York City and there was one evening when a mugger tried to attack me. It was after I left an outdoor café in Little Italy. I’d enjoyed a nice late lunch with some of my new friends and he came at me. Needless to say, he had no clue what he was walking into. Two years of Israeli Defense Forces and ten years of training with Uncle Ami, I hammered him with my knees and elbows until he ran away screaming. He even dropped a purse he had stolen from someone else. I found a wallet inside and returned it to the lady the next day in person. She was impressed.”

 

“Wow. Impressive.”

 

She patted my hand. “I’m not trying to impress you. If all you do is watch television and talk on the phone, you’re prepared for nothing in life. If you train your mind, your body, and your will power, you can overcome most anything. And you never know when those hurdle skills racing skills of yours will come in handy.” She glanced down at her watch. “Oh no, you’re going to be late for training with Ami.”

 

We raced through the streets as the narrow roads started to get crammed with tourist buses. It only took about ten minutes to get back to the Krav Maga International Academy. I darted across the street from the house, dodging cars on their way to work. I opened the door to the academy and everything was quiet.

 

I prepared my mind for the sudden attack, thinking that Uncle Ami was planning to ambush me. I made sure to keep my bag with me. What Uncle Ami had told me a few years earlier had stuck with me, ‘You should have kept your bag. It could be a weapon’ After six summers, did Ami really think he could still fool me?

 

But something didn’t feel right. Something felt off. And Uncle Ami taught me to trust myself when that feeling washes over me; my sixth sense. He said most people ignore it. But it’s an innate red-alert instinct in all living things. It’s sort of like how the hair on a dog’s back will stand up and they’ll take a slow step back when they sense danger is present. Or how a cat will suddenly crouch and its tail begins to twitch… like it’s waiting for something it can feel is nearby. Of course, we’re not cats or dogs but we all get that hair on the back of our neck tingle even if it’s only for a split second, when something isn’t right.

 

SPAT, Haddie. SPAT. Scanning the gym, I noticed legs dressed in black pajamas jutting out from under the punching bags lining the wall. Ami? I raced over and bent down. Uncle Ami lay motionless. I thought he had a heart attack or something. I started shaking him and calling his name, but no response.

 

Suddenly, a black gloved hand grabbed my mouth as another one wrapped around my stomach. My heart raced.