The Fourth Stall - Chris Rylander [56]
The high school kid to my right reached out for me. I spun to face him and took a step back to avoid his reach. Two big hands grabbed my arms from behind. I had stepped right into them.
I swung my body from side to side, trying to free myself, but the hands were too strong and the fingers just dug into my arms even harder. By now another kid was coming at me from the front. He had a huge smile on his face as he cracked his knuckles. I was a sitting duck and he knew it.
“Let’s see what you got, loser,” I said.
“Okay,” he said, and reared back his fist.
That’s when I leaned back into the kid holding me and kicked my leg up as hard as I could. My foot connected with the one spot sure to cause the most damage. I’d never wish that sort of pain upon anyone, but this was life or death.
“OOOoh,” he moaned as he crossed his legs and dropped to the ground.
The kid holding my arms actually snickered. I guess it’s normally pretty funny when people get hit in the groin. Now it was his turn, though. I stamped my heel into his shin as hard as I could. He yelled and his grip loosened. I pulled away from him, and then turned and gave him my best shot. He dropped to the ground and started crying. I almost felt bad.
PJ was still down holding his face, two other kids were in the fetal position holding their “business,” and another one was trying to get to his feet again. I looked at Justin, the only one still standing. He looked scared. I walked toward him, but then I stopped when I heard loud banging on the Shed.
PJ had gotten up and was standing next to the doors. He held a small black tube in his hand like a can of hair spray. He stuck it against the crevice of the Shed’s doors.
“Stop fighting, Mac, or I’ll douse your little friends,” he said.
There could have been anything inside that black tube. It could have just been water. I looked around as the other kids were climbing back to their feet. It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take with my employees trapped inside.
“Okay,” I said, holding my hands up.
All of my confidence just drained out of me like ice cream from the little hole in the bottom of a waffle cone on a hot day. The other high school kids were on their feet now. Two of them grabbed me, one on each side. They squeezed hard and I felt a pain shoot through my arms. I was surrounded by kids, but I’d never felt so alone in my life.
“You’re in trouble now, you little punk,” one of them said.
I wanted to say “Duh,” but I thought it best to stay quiet right then.
Mitch, PJ, and Justin closed in on me. PJ used his Hollister shirt to wipe his face. His nose was red. I hoped I hadn’t broken it.
“You’re going to pay for this,” he said, looking down at his shirt.
I nodded while raising my eyebrows and said, “Yup.”
“Are you smarting off to me?” PJ yelled.
I nodded.
That’s when sharp pain erupted in my stomach. I hadn’t even seen it coming. I always thought that people overreact in movies when they get hit in the gut. I mean, how bad could it hurt, right? Well, I can say that it hurts way worse than it looks.
The air shot out of me and a sharp pain stabbed my stomach, followed by a deep rumble that ran straight to my brain. I gasped for air, trying not to cry. It hurt worse than I ever would have imagined it could. I tried to bend over, but the two high school kids held me up. I wheezed for air, sure I was going to suffocate.
PJ laughed.
“Not such a cocky punk now?”
The other kids laughed. One holding my arm whispered into my ear, “It’s payback time.”
I continued to struggle to breathe. Just when I thought it was all over, that I was going to pass out, I finally was able to get some air in. But that’s when the side of my face exploded. Okay, it probably didn’t explode, but that’s what it felt like.
It basically felt like Barry Bonds took batting practice on my head with a titanium baseball bat. My vision blurred and my eyes watered. I tasted blood in my mouth.