Hair of the Dog by Gordon Carroll (reading strategies book TXT) 📗

off the wall, hitting the floor almost as hard. The wind left my lungs and the world swam darkly.

Forcing my eyes to stay open, I saw an enraged Clyde charge straight at Jerome. Jerome charged back.

Max dove under the runaway trains to stand over my body, acting as guard.

The two of them hit with roughly the concussive force of a hydrogen bomb and then I lost the fight. Darkness swam over me, thick and suffocating, dragging me into the stairwell of nightmares, where I missed probably the greatest fight since Thor versus Hulk.

43

The raw impact shook both men to their cores. The scales of weight and height and sheer mass were roughly the same, but Jerome had been through a lot over the past few days, and tonight especially. Clyde stood fresh and uninjured . And so he recovered first, shaking his head and moving in on Jerome with a wide hook that connected against his cheek, reopening the tear that Gil had split in their first meeting. Clyde followed with an uppercut that struck just below his floating rib. Only the bullet-resistant vest saved him from losing his wind, but even through the padding, the concussion jarred his senses. Jerome tried to block the right that jabbed straight at his face, but he couldn’t quite get his limbs to work and the blow landed flat and hard into his nose, snapping his head back.

Jerome wrapped Clyde in his long arms, and head butted him three times — smack — smack — smack — blood flew and bone crunched before Clyde shoved forward with one hand and back with an elbow, breaking the grip and creating enough space for him to deliver two fast hooks to Jerome’s ribs and a third that came up high, hitting him on the exact spot on his cheek as before. Lights flashed like exploding stars behind Jerome’s eyes and he punched down with a swinging hammer fist that struck between Clyde’s shoulder and neck juncture. Clyde crumpled, his knees unhinging and his body going limp for just an instant before he came to and ducked to the side, just in time to avoid a knee that would have crushed his face.

Jerome, dizzy and unsteady, didn’t let it stop him. He jumped forward, both feet leaving the floor as he swung in and down with a powerful Superman punch that whacked Clyde on the side of the head. Clyde smashed into a wall and bounced off to take another punch on the opposite side of the head. Still standing, Clyde ducked down into an instinctive fetal ball, hands up to protect his face and head, elbows nearly touching his thighs as he tried to move feet that no longer felt sure. Five hard body punches landed, each taking their toll. Clyde ducked lower and shot forward, grabbing Jerome’s legs just above the knees and pulling them in tight against his chest. He drove up and in, taking his fellow giant off his feet and down onto his back, with Clyde on top.

The floor was hard concrete and five hundred pounds of man flesh was a lot of weight to absorb. Jerome’s head smacked hard against the unforgiving surface and he almost lost consciousness, giving Clyde the opportunity to climb up over Jerome’s legs and gain the mounted position. From this vantage point, he started raining blows down into Jerome’s face. Jerome found himself in roughly the same spot that Clyde had been a second before, with his arms and hands covering his head and face, trying to fend off a swarm of lethal missiles. Jerome managed to grab hold of a wrist, and even though it cost him three hard blows to the face, he held on as he hooked one of Clyde’s heels with the toe of his shoe. He bucked hard, up and to the side, throwing Clyde off balance and rolling him over his shoulder. Jerome followed the roll and now he was on top, in a reverse position, except that he was in Clyde’s guard, Clyde’s legs wrapped around Jerome’s midsection.

Clyde couldn’t believe that Jerome had managed to throw him. But now that Jerome was on top, he wasn’t about to chance letting him be there for long. He shrimped to the side, released his foot lock, and pushed-kicked Jerome off of him.

Both men made it to their feet, breathing hard, blood leaking from fresh wounds. They circled warily and then their mutual hatred pushed past their training and they charged, both titans shooting their arms and hands forward. Neither man attempted to block, and as if by silent agreement, they grabbed each other’s throats. Skill no longer mattered here. Now it was muscle against muscle… will against will… as fingers and thumbs crushed in against necks packed with hard slabs of meat and tendons and muscle. Veins, pulsing thick and blue with pressurized blood, stood bulging on their foreheads and temples as incredible force sought the end of human life. They circled, sweat streaming, teeth clenched, eyes hot and red and locked… staring in the most primal of battles, life and death. No quarter would be asked or given. The giants were silent now as every ounce of their beings warred. Bones creaked and ligaments stretched as each drove in. Finally, the circling stopped and they simply stood, grinding in with the very last of their stores of energy.

Until one man’s strength… failed.

44

Over four hours had passed since she first placed the samples in the Maxwell 16, but finally, the results lay before her.

She shook her head. “You knew all along didn’t you, Gil?” The man was smart. Sarah had three PHDs and still she had no idea how Gil could fit together the pieces of the puzzles he put together. Another reason to love him. Like with the Double Tap Rapist. Numerous police agencies had set out to catch him, but it took Gil Mason to bring an end to his evil.

Rubbing her eyes, she printed out