Andrew Klavan - The long way home

He was still standing by the office door, by the alarm box. There was still a path open between him and the door. I knew there was no rear exit. I didn't see what else I could do.

I rushed for the door again.

Mike grabbed me by the arm. I swung my arm around, breaking his grip-just as he taught me to do.

But as I swung my arm, he struck me in the nerve center in the armpit-not hard, but hard enough to stun me with the pain. I cried out. Mike got in front of me. He lifted his foot and planted a kick in my midsection-it was more of a push than a kick-not trying to hurt me, just trying to knock me back.

Which it did. Once again, I stumbled back into the dojo.

This time, Mike followed me in, blocking my way.

"What're you gonna do, Charlie. Fight me?" he asked.

I staggered until I could regain my balance. Then I faced him. I saw the glint of humor in his eyes-humor and sadness both.

I couldn't believe what I was saying-even though I knew I had to say it.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm gonna fight you, Mike. I'm not going back to prison without a fight."

Mike shrugged. "It's a fight you can't win," he told me.

But he didn't have to tell me that. I already knew.

A Fight I Couldn't Win Mike took another step into the dojo. I took another step back away from him. I had to find a way past him-and quick-before the alarm company called the police, before the police arrived. Five minutes. Ten at most.

But how? Whatever fighting tricks I knew, Mike had taught me. However long and hard I'd practiced, he'd practiced more. Plus, he'd been in the army, in real battles in Iraq and Afghanistan. How could I neutralize him even long enough to get to the door?

The ringing of the alarm went on outside, a steady bell.

And I thought: the phone. The alarm company was about to call to make sure the alarm hadn't gone off by accident. That meant the phone in the office was about to ring. Maybe that would draw Mike's attention, distract him just for a second. If I could use that second to knock him out of the way…

Then the phone rang-and I struck.

It was the strangest feeling. To attack my own teacher. To attack the guy who'd been such a help and a guide to me all the time I was growing up. It wasn't just karate either. Sometimes there had been things I wanted to talk about that I somehow couldn't say to my mom or dad. I could always say them to Mike. Sometimes there were things Mom and Dad just didn't understand. Mike always did. He was what I guess you'd call a mentor. He was the last person in the world I wanted to attack.

But I had to do it. I had to get past him. I had to prove I didn't kill Alex-even if I could only prove it to myself.

So when the phone rang-when Mike's eyes shifted toward it reflexively-just a little, just for a second-I was ready. I shot a swift high kick straight for Mike's chest, hoping to knock him back and out of the way.

I actually managed to take him by surprise. I don't think he really believed I'd try it. He didn't have time to dodge-the best defense against a kick. But he was so good, it didn't matter. He curled himself up, pulling his chest away from the kick so that my foot struck without any real power. Then he crossed his arms, trapping my foot between them.

I knew that move-Mike had taught it to me. I knew he would twist my leg next and throw me over to the side.

But Mike had taught me the defense against that, too, so I used it. I hopped in close on one leg and tried to hit him in the mouth with the heel of my palm.

Of course, he knew I was going to do that. He turned aside and tossed me away so that my blow flew right past him-and so did I.

And now he was to the side of me and came in on the attack. He tried to wrap his arm around my throat in a choke hold. He'd be able to knock me out in about three seconds like that.

I couldn't let it happen. Quickly, I slipped underneath his arm just the way he'd always shown me. Then I tried to push him to the side so I could make an escape route to the door.

Before I could, he snapped his elbow back into my chest and then snapped a backhanded fist into my face. He could've broken my nose with that, but he hit me in the cheek instead because he was trying not to hurt me too badly. It stung plenty, though-and he followed it up with a left-handed blow to the belly that knocked the wind out of me.

All the same, I tried to fight back, tried to throw a right over his punch into the side of his head.

Mike ducked the punch so fast it was as if he'd disappeared from in front of me. Another punch hit me in the belly-a right this time, much harder. I gasped out air and nearly doubled over. Then Mike was behind me.

He chopped me in the back of the neck. He could've killed me with a blow like that, but his control was pinpoint perfect. He hit me just hard enough to send a burst of pain shooting through my head and white sparks exploded in front of my eyes.

My knees buckled and I went down. I had just enough sense left to drop to my shoulder and roll. I leapt to my feet again, throwing my hands on guard just the way Mike had taught me. But to be honest, I was dazed. If Mike had come after me then, he probably could've finished me off pretty easily.

But he didn't attack. He just stood where he was in the middle of the dojo. He shook his head and stroked his mustache in that way he did when he wanted to hide a smile.

"That was pretty good, chucklehead," he said. "I guess I taught you well. You almost had me for…"

I broke for the door. Mike should've known better than to start talking. It's always the best time to make a move-he taught me that.

I was out of the dojo and through the foyer. I was at the door, reaching for it, grabbing it-when Mike caught up to me.

But I was waiting for that, ready for it. The second I felt his hand on my collar, I changed direction as suddenly as I could. I braked on the balls of my feet and spun around. I knocked his hand off me with my left forearm. I shot my open hand at his chest, just trying to push him back. I could've aimed for his throat, but I didn't want to hurt him any more than he wanted to hurt me.

I shouldn't have worried about it. The blow never landed anyway. Mike knocked it away with a left cross-body block and whacked me on the side of the head with his right. It was another blow that could've been a lot worse, but Mike kept his hand open so it was more of a slap than anything else. Still, it rattled me, stunned me-and the next moment Mike had my arm twisted behind me and forced me away from the door, back into the dojo.

He let me go, giving me an extra shove so I went stumbling a few steps away from him. I turned around, breathing hard. Mike just stood there, blocking the way out of the dojo, waiting to see if I would try to get past him again.

I didn't. What was the point? I knew I couldn't beat him. He knew every move I knew and some I didn't. And he knew them all a lot better than I did, maybe better than I ever would.

He stroked his mustache again. "I'll tell you something, Charlie," he said. "You're the best student I ever had." I was glad to see he was breathing kind of hard himself, though nowhere near as hard as I was. "In fact, you're one of the best fighters I've ever seen and I've seen some good ones. Another five years, a little more real-life, maybe some military training, you might even be able to take me. But not today."

I nodded. I knew he was right. I bent forward, resting my hands on my thighs, trying to catch my breath, trying to shake off the pain in my gut and the daze in my head.

The phone had stopped ringing now. I noticed the alarm bell had stopped ringing too. The alarm company must've turned it off on their end. They were probably calling the police now. Another two or three minutes and I'd hear the sirens again, see the flashing lights again. I'd have no way to escape this time.