Fuller's Mine: Emulation Trilogy, #2

By D.A. Hill

Surviving the end of the world isn't easy.
Retaining your humanity is even harder.

A small group led by Tyra Martin survives the asteroid in an underground hideout, waiting for the murderous fight over dwindling food supplies to end. Just as they begin considering a return to a normal life on the surface, a tragic encounter drives them back into hiding.

Aboard Newton's Ark, Cyrus Jones discovers that their virtual world may not be the utopia James Newton envisaged. As he and his brilliant son work tirelessly to find a way to return to the physical world, oppression grows unchecked, tearing his family apart.

Hell-bent on re-population, the leaders of what remains of the United States steadily sacrifice basic rights and freedoms, especially for women, to achieve their goal.

When these three groups cross paths, Cyrus and his family confront difficult choices about love, revenge, and belonging, and he is forced to decide just how willing he is to wield the almost unlimited power at his disposal in order to protect the people he cares about.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.A. Hill
• Release date: Oct 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201348823

Book preview

prologue

January 2123

For the past two years Kevin Hobb held the post of Chief Engineer of the United States, responsible for maintaining—well, everything. At six feet and one-eighty pounds, with dark hair and strong, angular facial features, he possessed a certain physical charisma, matched by a warm, outgoing personality. About to turn forty, he had everything in life he ever wanted: a wife who loved him; two delightful children and another on the way; and, not coincidentally, a position of some importance. And he was exceptionally good at his job, or so everyone believed. That was both his blessing and his curse.

Come on, honey. His wife took his hand. The guests will be here any minute. She gently pulled him from the chair where he sat slouched, his body every bit as weary as his spirit.

He forced a smile but didn’t move.

What’s wrong? You should be happy. It’s your birthday.

I’m OK. He let her pull him from the chair. You’re right. I should be happy. He kissed her affectionately on the cheek. And I am.

Without his position he would be a nobody, single and alone. But in these quiet moments of self-reflection, he felt like an impostor. Most of the time the job wasn’t too hard. He couldn’t do much with the old infrastructure—stuff from the beginning of the previous century and before—but most of that fell into disrepair and disuse long ago. Nobody expected him to fix those relics.

People only expected him to keep the modern facilities running. They were self-repairing, and he had no problem fixing the bots when they themselves sometimes failed. He was a natural with machines, something his parents told him he inherited from both his grandfathers.

But occasionally the bots encountered a problem outside their initial programming, as happened this week at the power station. Software was his weakness. It wasn’t from any lack of effort on his part—he also inherited a strong work ethic—but no matter how hard he studied, he never achieved the level of mastery the job demanded. Code remained a foreign language in which he had developed no fluency. He could program to solve incremental problems, but floundered when confronted with anything that didn’t fit a known pattern.

And yet, despite his lack of competence, he solved the problem at the power station. Well, not so much him. Once again his helper came to the rescue, appearing right when he needed him most, as if by magic. And with software, the guy knew his stuff; Kevin had never given him a problem he couldn’t solve.

He didn’t know why he helped him. But the man said he had known Kevin’s grandparents. He asked Granny Hope about that when the man first appeared. She confirmed the story, and what a story it was. But for good reason she had begged him never to mention the man to anyone else, a request he honored.

Sometimes he regretted allowing himself to become so dependent on a man he knew so little about, but it was too late to change course now. He had built his life on a lie. If anyone found out what he’d done, he would lose everything. He had no choice but to keep his secret well hidden—even from Sally—and pray that Cyrus Jones never tired of helping him.

chapter 1

May 2046

Tyra Martin never had trouble sleeping—until now. You learned in the first few weeks of basic training how to catch a few zees whenever and wherever you could. But the average dumb grunt didn’t carry the burdens she carried. The responsibility pressed down on her like a gigantic weight, not because she was afraid of responsibility, but because she felt unequal to the task.

She hadn’t asked for this responsibility; she didn’t want it, and she sure as hell wasn’t qualified for it. She was just a corporal, for the love of God. Corporals solved small, tactical problems. Not big, strategic problems like how to survive the end of the world. Shouldering the burden of impossible choices was what officers were for. Too bad they didn’t have any of those around.

She kept telling herself she couldn’t give up, but the confidence she once felt, the certainty and determination they would somehow survive. Newton’s Ark had been nothing but a mirage, a beautiful dream. For a short while the dream kept them going, but the dream became a nightmare. What was there to hope for now? Hope was like water, you couldn’t live without it, and she was down to her last few drops, desperately shaking her canteen looking for just a little more to quench her thirst for life.

As unqualified as she felt, her little group—Andrew James ‘AJ’ Hobb, John ‘Hawk’ Hawkins, and Angela ‘Angie’ Faraday—still looked to her for leadership. They seemed to have faith in her. More faith than she had in herself. Their trust, however undeserved, was real. She had no choice. She had to at least try to justify it, to give it everything she had. That was all anyone could ask, wasn’t it?

She tried breaking the problem down into small, manageable chunks. Solve one piece at a time, like her instructors had taught her during NCO training. But that hadn’t worked. When the challenge was trying to figure out how to survive a winter that could last for twenty years, the chunks were still huge and unmanageable no matter how much she broke it down. Shelter and warmth? Big problem. Security? Bigger problem. Food? Biggest problem of all. She didn’t have good solutions for any of them. She didn’t even have bad solutions. She had nothing.

All she could do was keep her little band alive as long as possible and hope—

There it was, that word again. Hope. All she could do was hope something would turn up. As a strategy, it was right up there with solving your financial problems by buying lottery tickets. But that was what you did when you had no decent options left—you gambled and you gambled big.

They had followed her original plan, if you could call it a plan, and driven west, into the mountains. That was almost a month ago. A month of looking for something. She didn’t know what, but whatever it was, she told herself she would know it when she saw it. Now they were in Montana, having failed to find whatever it was they were looking for in Colorado and Wyoming. If not here, then what? Keep going until they were in Canada? The obstacles they would face crossing the border ruled that out. It was a dumb idea. The situation wouldn’t be any different there.

She was trying hard not to allow desperation to lead her to make rash decisions, but they were fast running out of options. Rash decisions might be all they had left. Food was their most pressing issue. She could feel her blood pressure rising just thinking about it. There was maybe a week’s supply left, two if they stretched it. They had other worries too, but those wouldn’t matter once they had no food. She had run through the scenarios for that day in her mind over and over again, yet she had no idea which one she would choose. Would they just wait for starvation to take them? Or would they take more decisive action? What would they tell Angie? What could they tell her? How do you tell a sweet, innocent child she’ll be dead soon?

chapter 2

June 2046

Tyra opened her eyes. For a moment she felt rested and at peace. Then it hit her, like it had every morning for the past six weeks—the reality, the wondering how the hell they would survive.

She forced herself to rise. Just focus on getting through the day. Somehow tomorrow will take care of itself. Up and at ’em, guys, she said in as cheery a tone as she could manage. Today’s the day. I hope that little display of enthusiasm rub offs. And not just on the boys.

Hawk sat up, shook his head, then slapped his cheeks. You really think so, Ty?

Won’t know unless we get moving. Maybe it wasn’t a lie. Maybe today their luck really would change. She’d said the same thing to herself yesterday. And the day before that.

She poked AJ with her foot. He rolled over and slowly opened his eyes. I’ll get Angie squared away, she said to Hawk. You make sure AJ doesn’t go back to sleep.

Hawk grinned. Sure. He grabbed the bottom of AJ’s sleeping bag and pulled.

AJ slid out the other end of the bag. I’m up, I’m up.

Twenty minutes later—breakfast didn’t take long when you had barely anything to eat—they were on the road.

Around mid-morning a gas station came into view. There were no obvious signs of life. She glanced at the gauge. They were running desperately low on fuel. Let’s hope we have better luck with this one, Tyra said.

AJ swung off the road, stopping by the fuel pump.

She climbed down from the truck. I’ll check it out. An electronic buzzer sounded when she entered the store. Stepping inside, she smelled an odor she knew too well; the sweet, sickly stench of death.

A glance behind the counter revealed the source. Slumped against the wall were the remains of a man and woman forever locked in a last embrace. Instead of shock or horror, or even sympathy for the dead couple, she felt relief they were dead, and not alive and well and ready to demand payment. Perhaps she would have the luxury of feeling something later, if she survived. For now, acknowledging the despair that led so many people to take their own lives would only distract her from preserving their own. She wasn’t ready yet to confront the impossible choice the decaying corpses represented, to accept they too could find themselves so desperate that ending it seemed their best option.

She returned to the truck and explained what she found to AJ and Hawk, taking care that Angie didn’t overhear. Now let’s hope their tanks ain’t empty.

No reason they should be, AJ said. There ain’t no dog though.

Dog? Why should there be a dog, AJ?

Gas stations always have a dog, don’t they? said Angie. At least in the holo-movies.

They all laughed. The kid was always talking about holo-movies.

Maybe, AJ said, but it was actually a reference to an old joke. From the mid-twentieth century when computers were new.

So what’s the joke, AJ? Tyra said.

He demurred, but they all insisted. The factory of the future will have two employees. A man and a dog, he deadpanned. The dog is there to keep the man away from the machines, and the man is there to feed the dog.

She groaned. I wouldn’t give up your day job.

I warned you. I didn’t want to tell it.

And it must be an old joke. How long have pet-care bots been feeding our dogs?

OK, it’s not that funny. But there’s a serious point. Even now people like to think humans are in charge, to have a person at the wheel if the machines screw up. It don’t make any sense when systems are self-correcting and self-repairing. Computers can diagnose most problems, and maintenance bots can repair them faster and better than humans can. Like this place. It runs just fine without people.

Better, she said. Computers don’t want payment in food. That had been their problem getting H. She had tried offering other, more intimate, forms of payment, but even that had stopped working. She approached the pump and pulled a credit card from an inside pocket. I sure hope this works. She waved the card near the scanner. The machine beeped a welcome confirmation. Bingo. Let’s fill her up and get outta here.

She wouldn’t be able to pay when her account came due, even if she wanted to—their military pay stopped dead when they deserted—and her card had a twenty-five percent annual rate on outstanding balances, but TYRA E. MARTIN figured she could live with a bad credit score if they survived that long.

***

It took fifteen minutes to fill the hydrogen tanks. With the extended range tank fitted to this vehicle, that ought to take them a thousand miles.

Where to, Ty? AJ said as they climbed back in.

I’ve been doing some research. There are lots of old, abandoned gold mines in these mountains. I don’t know what sort of shape they’re in; most of them are from the nineteenth century. But old means forgotten, if we’re real lucky.

You want to hole up in an old mine?

She was grasping at straws, but it was time to do something other than drive around aimlessly looking for a Shangri-La that didn’t exist. Now they had a full load of fuel, they needed to use it wisely. Who knew when they would get another opportunity to refill.

Easier to secure what little food we have and stay safe than being out in the open at least. Maybe we could even do some hunting. Figure out what to do from there. Unless someone has a better idea, because I’m all out.

Nope, AJ said. I got nothin.

Me neither, Hawk said. You’ve got us this far. Whatever you think is best.

Angie shrugged her shoulders and made a face. Don’t look at me. I’m just a kid.

Tyra smiled. At least someone could ignore the desperation of their situation. They had done their best to hide it from Angie, cutting their own rations short so she wouldn’t go hungry, trying not to discuss the futility of their quest in front of her. They couldn’t keep the truth from her indefinitely, but for now let the kid enjoy whatever she had left of her childhood. It wouldn’t last much longer.

***

The truck slowed without warning. Tyra looked up to see the cause. A semi jackknifed across the road spelled trouble for sure. That’s close enough, she said when they were within a hundred yards of the obstacle.

What ya thinking, Ty? AJ said.

I’m thinking Hawk and I should check it out before we get any closer. She climbed out of the truck without waiting for a reply. You get this thing turned around in case we need to make a quick exit.

She stood and surveyed the scene, trying to figure out what happened here. The eighteen-wheeler had stopped in one hell of a hurry. But why?

At this altitude ice would be common, but it was the beginning of summer and the road was bone-dry. That left only one reasonable explanation for such a sudden stop; someone ambushed this vehicle.

Hawk followed her as she headed off the road to their left, climbing up the embankment. She was going for the high ground, the logical place for ambushers to lie in wait. The trees were some type of pine, indistinguishable from the millions of other trees she had seen throughout these mountains over the past two months. They moved through them slowly, leapfrogging each other as one moved while the other went to ground providing cover.

Hawk saw the bodies first. He lowered his rifle as he raised his hand, signaling her to come forward.

Jesus, she said when she saw them up close, a mass of flesh and blood barely recognizable as men. These guys sure had one helluva bad day.

The corpses—there were two of them—looked like they’d been through a meat grinder. Some heavy-duty firepower, something more than just small arms, had torn the surrounding trees to pieces, creating a deadly cloud of giant splinters. Being dug in—as deep as possible—was the only hope in their situation; lying out in the open, unprotected, these poor bastards didn’t stand a chance.

She turned her gaze out across the road, looking in the direction the men had been facing. Narrowing her eyes, she soon spotted the cause of their demise. There, she said, pointing through the trees to a Humvee that had been traveling in front of the semi. Only the top of the roof was visible, along with the fifty-caliber gun she guessed took these guys out.

Whatever happened here, Hawk said, it looks to me like the party is over.

Somebody thought whatever was inside the semi justified an armed escort, and somebody else had decided it was worth ambushing. Maybe, just maybe, the attackers were all dead or frightened off before they could grab the load. But if we’re lucky, they left the punch bowl behind, Tyra said.

And maybe she’d wake up in her rack back at Fort Riley any minute now, lift her head from her favorite pillow, and discover the last year was all just a bad dream. Then she would make her way to the mess hall where she would spend the entire morning consuming a breakfast of six eggs, a dozen strips of bacon, and a gallon or two of thick, black, over-sweetened coffee before heading out to watch the passing parade of flying pigs.

Worth a look inside that truck at least, she said flatly, wary of building their hopes up. They couldn’t take much more disappointment before somebody cracked, but if they didn’t check, she would always wonder.

As they made their way down the embankment to the road, she signaled all clear to AJ. He immediately backed the F350 closer. It was a tricky maneuver with the large trailer they were pulling, but he made it look easy.

They passed close by the Humvee on their way back to the big rig. The crater in the road, shredded front left tire, and bent axle told the story of what happened. IED. But they built Humvees with an armored chassis since part way through the second Iraq war. While the explosion had been enough to disable the vehicle, the thick steel floor should have saved the occupants, who were nowhere to be seen. Whatever it was in the back of the semi, they decided it wasn’t worth sticking around to die for.

The trucker wasn’t so lucky, but at least his death was quick—a single shot right between the eyes. The men in the woods had been dressed as civilians, as best she could tell from their shredded clothing, but that was some precision shooting, and the ambush set-up was straight from an Army training manual. A rogue unit, perhaps? Just like hers?

She headed straight for the back of the rig, the others automatically following. "OK, let’s look in here and see what’s worth all this damn trouble—quickly—and then we need to get the hell out of here." If the ambushers had friends, she didn’t want to be here if they came back, or worse, if the military came looking for the missing convoy.

When Hawk and AJ unlatched the doors of the box trailer and swung them open, she stood there speechless for a moment. She stared at the contents, hoping her eyes weren’t deceiving her. Not in her wildest dreams could she have imagined they would find something as valuable as this.

The two men high-fived, before Hawk did a joyful celebration dance, hands in the air, bouncing from one size 12 foot to the other, like a lineman who had just made a miraculous interception and ninety-yard run for a touchdown.

Angie watched them celebrate but didn’t join in. What is it?

Tyra knew the kid could read the labels on the boxes—MEALS, FREEZE-DRIED, EXTENDED USE—but her eleven-year-old mind didn’t seem to comprehend the implications. Food, she almost whispered, as if speaking louder would cause it to disappear. Freeze-dried. At least that’s what the boxes say. Makes sense. Looks like it was heading south, maybe on its way to that government ark down in Colorado. This stuff can last thirty or forty years. It’s a smart way to store a lot of food for a long time. Her eyes widened. If the entire trailer is full of this… She didn’t want to jinx their good luck by saying what she was thinking aloud, but for the first time in weeks they might have a real chance at surviving.

AJ climbed up inside the truck, moving several boxes so he could open one stowed a few rows back. He held up a freeze-dried meal. Looks like we hit the mother lode.

Is that good? Angie said.

In the immortal words of Mick Dundee,—Hawk now switched to a poor attempt at an Australian accent—this stuff tastes like…

He looked to Tyra for approval. It had taken several weeks and many whacks on the head, but he and AJ had eventually learned not to curse in front of Angie.

She was familiar with the quote. Their squad had latched onto this ancient movie about some crazy crocodile hunter who travels from the Australian Outback to New York. It wasn’t even available in holo-format—just plain old-fashioned 2D and ridiculously low-res at that—but they watched it together repeatedly, usually while drinking too much beer.

They especially loved finding excuses to use variations on the movie’s most famous line: ‘That’s not a knife. This is a knife.’ It had become her squad’s in-joke, arbitrary and somewhat stupid, but a shared ritual that helped bind them together.

At least what was left of her squad.

She tried not to think about the other men and women of her former unit, people she had considered brothers and sisters, her comrades-in-arms. She couldn’t afford to worry about what happened to them or, assuming they were still alive, what horrors they were yet to face. Their fates had taken different paths when she went to that ranch.

All she could be concerned about now was this little band. That was the limit of her influence and more than enough responsibility. A little mild profanity would be OK, just this once. Don’t make a habit of it. A tight-mouthed smile betrayed her stern intent when she couldn’t help but finish the line from the movie in her mind.

Hawk smiled and continued his Dundee impersonation. Tastes like shit, but you can live on it, mate. He hugged Angie, lifting her a foot off the ground. There’s enough in here to keep us all alive for years.

AJ climbed down out of the truck. What about me?

Hawk responded by hugging him. Hey, I love you too, man.

The face AJ made—mock disgust mixed with excitement and relief—caused them all to laugh like they hadn’t laughed in weeks.

Tyra looked at the cornucopia before her. There was far too much to fit in their truck, but they would be mad to leave any of it behind. They would have to take the semi.

But without a specific destination to program, auto-pilots were more trouble than they were worth. Nor did they cope well with events their designers never anticipated, like being ambushed. Everything considered, it would be easier and much safer to drive the truck manually.

OK guys, there’ll be time to celebrate later, she said. We need to secure this loot pronto. Can you drive a rig this big, AJ?

Sure can, Ty. He started stroking the truck like it was a beautiful woman. You and I will get along fine, my darling, I just know it.

When AJ was done seducing his new toy, he and Hawk closed the trailer. With the precious cargo secured, AJ strode purposefully toward the semi’s cab, but stopped when he opened the door.

Tyra and Hawk helped him remove the body of the driver and clean up the blood. They couldn’t risk staying around long enough to bury him, but they laid the corpse down neatly by the side of the road, closed his eyes, and folded his arms across his chest. It was the least they could do in appreciation of their newfound bounty.

chapter 3

It was slow going on the narrow mountain roads with their steep grades and tight curves, especially with an eighteen-wheeler behind. Tyra watched the semi-trailer on the pickup’s rear-view display, marveling at the masterful way AJ maneuvered the big rig. She never understood why a guy with a such talent and love for machinery became a grunt. Sure, the Army had some neat gear—she loved the buzz she got from playing with kick-ass weaponry and could never get enough of the power rush that came from blowing stuff up—but the infantry wasn’t the obvious choice if you wanted to work with machines. She would have to ask him about that sometime. For now, she was just grateful to have him on their team.

They hadn’t driven far, maybe thirty or forty miles, when Hawk drew her attention to a pile of brush by the side of the road. It took her a moment to identify the object. The vehicle wasn’t visible through the pile of brush, but its outline was unmistakable. Someone had tried to hide it, but the shape of the car, a form not found in nature, thwarted their efforts. Breaking up an object’s shape was the most fundamental principle of camouflage, something you learned in basic training. This was the work of civilians.

The map she was monitoring on her pad showed one of the old mines close. Probably where the occupants had gone. There was nothing else out here to stop for. Perhaps they should they just keep moving. But if someone had beaten them to this mine, others may have had the same idea. There was no way to know if the next mine would be free. And they would need to stop soon if they were to secure the vehicles before dark. It may as well be here.

She instructed Hawk to pull over, then stuck her arm out the window, signaling to AJ in the truck behind that they were stopping. She climbed out and removed some brush covering the vehicle. A sub-compact sedan, it could seat four adults at most. They would need to be careful, but it seemed unlikely they would run into more than they could handle.

Look around. She pointed toward a canyon cutting deep into the mountain towering above them. According to the map, the mine was up there, somewhere. See if you can’t find signs of a trail leading up that way.

Tyra, over here, Angie shouted after a few minutes of searching. Is this it?

She looked at the spot where the child pointed. The dirt and leaf litter showed signs of recent disturbance. I think so. She followed the scuff marks with her eyes. Well done, Angie. The trail was faint, but visible now she knew where it started. The map showed the mine a little more than a quarter mile from the road. It shouldn’t take much more than twenty minutes. Hawk, you stay here and watch the vehicles. Fire two quick shots if anything happens. AJ, Angie, follow me.

They hadn’t gone far before slow progress forced her to question her estimate. They had been living at altitude long enough for their bodies to adjust, but in the thin air, and with the hot sun on their backs, they still struggled while climbing the steep trail.

She stopped to check the map in the hope they were almost there. The elevation at the road was at least 6,500 feet and the mine almost a thousand feet higher with tightly spaced contour lines between, meaning steep terrain. In her haste, she hadn’t noticed. Damn. That sort of carelessness could get them killed. Rest up for five. She leaned back against a large rock, took a large gulp from her canteen, and carefully studied the map, making sure there wouldn’t be any more rude surprises.

When they restarted, the canyon narrowed, but this time she knew it was coming. Steep granite walls on both sides supported very little vegetation, just small, stubby shrubs that provided no shade from the burning sun. The slope became so steep in places they had to use their hands and their feet to move forward safely. As they continued, the frequent switchbacks in the trail confirmed the old but true joke that there’s no such thing as traveling in a straight line in the mountains.

About thirty exhausting minutes into their climb, they spotted the entrance to the mine. There was little left of the minehead except a tumbled-down pile of well-weathered lumber they might have easily missed, if not for the mine tailings fanning out down the side of the mountain.

They still had quite a climb ahead of them. The mine was on the other side of the canyon, five hundred vertical feet above. The trail went to the end of the canyon and then swung back toward them before zigzagging back and forth across the slope opposite, turning a quarter mile into a mile and a half.

This far into the canyon the road was no longer visible, and the mine sat in a slope so steep there was no approaching it from above or below without climbing gear. That made the trail, most of which was visible from the mine entrance, the only practical access point. Strategically, the inaccessible location made the position hard to detect and easy to defend. Right now though, it meant at least another twenty or more minutes of hard going.

And if they could see the mine, anyone in the mine could see them. She picked up the pace. Keep up, she shouted to Hawk and Angie without even looking back. Speed was their only ally now.

***

Tyra pulled Angie aside when they reached the entrance to the mine. Wait here, she whispered. Whatever you do, don’t come in until one of us comes to get you. Understand?

Angie nodded. She didn’t like the idea of waiting outside. What if something bad happened to Tyra or AJ and they left there her here all alone? But entering a dark, underground space was even scarier.

Can find your way back down to the road if you have to? Tyra said.

She nodded again. She wanted to make the trip all that way back down to the road by herself even less than she wanted to wait here by herself. But she thought she could manage if she had no other choice.

Good. If we’re not out in fifteen minutes, run back down to Hawk as fast as you can.

OK.

Tyra handed her the rifle.

Angie’s hands shook as she took it. It was heavy and cold. She didn’t know how to fire a gun.

If you see anyone coming, just point it in the air and pull the trigger.

***

Tyra removed a flashlight from her backpack and an Army standard-issue Beretta M9 from its home on her right hip. She picked her way through the jumble of weathered lumber obstructing the mine entrance, taking care with each step to find a solid footing for fear of injuring herself, or alerting anyone inside.

She didn’t like leaving Angie behind. The kid was armed, but the way she held the weapon—like a snake about to bite her—meant it would be useless in her hands. Should she turn around? No, Angie was safer where she was. But she would make sure she taught the kid to shoot as soon as she got the chance.

AJ followed five yards behind, his rifle slung over his shoulder and a matching pistol also at the ready.

They pressed themselves against the wall as they entered the gloom of the mine, listening for any signs of human activity. They waited for their eyes to adjust to the dark before creeping forward about ten yards, then waited again, repeating the process several times.

When they reached the point beyond the soft glow of natural light coming from the mine’s entrance, with no sign of anything or anyone, she switched on her flashlight.

Who the hell are you? a man shouted as he stepped out of the deep shadows. He didn’t wait for a reply before lunging at her, but she saw the glint of light on the metal blade a split-second before he thrust it at her belly.

She jumped to her left, out of the line of attack, letting the knife penetrate the empty space where she stood moments earlier.

In a single, continuous move, she spun to her right, turning back toward her assailant. Now she used the energy of his crude attack against him by grabbing his wrist with her right hand as it passed by her, while her left hand, still holding the pistol, found his upper arm, just below the deltoid muscle. His own momentum carried him forward, twisting his arm behind him.

To complete the hold, she pushed his upper arm and pulled his wrist in opposite directions, hyper-extending his elbow, leaving him no choice but to fall to his knees to avoid a severe and very painful injury. Drop the knife or I’ll dislocate your elbow, she said through gritted teeth. She was already three-quarters of the way to doing so; all she had to do was press a little harder.

No! a woman screamed from behind her. Please don’t hurt him.

Tyra ignored the woman’s pleas, waiting until the man dropped the knife. Releasing his arm, she picked up the knife and turned to see AJ holding the woman, supporting her as