Apocalypsis 02 - Warpaint

medicine.”
    “Don’t go,” whispered Julio. “Don’t go.”
    The monster’s face went beet red and spittle flew out of his mouth when he yelled, “Don’t talk, meat! No one hears you!”
    “You hear me, demon,” said Julio, in a voice that surprised me with its strength. “You can’t hurt me anymore, either. You take nothing from me that I won’t give.”
    “I’m warning you …,” said the monster.
    “You’re going to burn in hell,” said Julio, interrupting him, laughing now and choking a little, too. I could see his body convulsing out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t risk looking down at him or touching him like I wanted to. I wished I could rest my hand on his chest and somehow give him some of my strength. It wasn’t right that he was going to die like this. What had been done here was nothing less than pure evil, and I had to stop it, not matter what. Even if it meant killing us all.
    Dave advanced on us both, so I took a step forward to meet him, stopping to spread my feet shoulders-width apart.
    “Come easy and it won’t hurt as much,” he said. “Maybe I’ll even let you sleep in my bed tonight.” He reached out to take my arm.
    “Never gonna happen,” I said, slapping his hand away. I wanted him closer. I hoped he would try to choke me. I’d practiced getting out of that move thousands of times.
    He disappointed me, though, surging forward and grabbing the top of my head by taking a handful of hair and pulling it hard towards him.
    I felt the grenade slipping down my shorts and it distracted me from making the move that could have ended the fight right there. His balls were dangling out in the open, just begging for a nut crusher. But instead I grabbed for my butt, stopping the bomb’s downward progression to the floor in the nick of time.
    “Come on, bitch. Let’s see if I can help you change your mind.” He started dragging me out of the room by my hair, but I dug my heels in, trying not to pass out from the pain shooting down through my skull. I felt a few hairs ripping out of my scalp. I ridiculously wondered how hideous I’d look with a giant patch of hair missing at the top of my head.
    Dave stopped walking and took a step towards me, letting go of my hair one time to slap me hard across the face. The force of it flung me sideways, and I lost my grip on the grenade. It fell the rest of the way down my pants and out the bottom. I lifted my leg up in a desperate bid to stop it from hitting the ground, but all I did was provide a ramp for it to roll down and then shoot off of. It landed on the floor and rolled a few feet, stopping against Julio’s head.
    “What the fuck?” said Dave, staring at it as I straightened up. “Is that a …?” He looked up at me, fury in his eyes. “That’s a goddamn grenade! You were gonna blow up my fucking meat locker!”
    He rushed me with both hands out, planning to wring the life out of me or snap my neck, I wasn’t sure which. I waited for him to come, my hands twitching at my sides, readying themselves for the moves they would have to make, and make quickly, if I were going to get out of this alive.
    His big, thick fingers closed around my neck at the same time he hit into me like a human bulldozer. My head whipped backwards and my breath was cut off in an instant.
    I brought my hands up and over his wrists, using the technique my dad made sure I memorized, to slam them apart and off of my windpipe.
    Before he could reposition them or do anything else to disable me, I took the monster’s wrist and twisted it out and down, forcing his shoulder to the side. I slid my other hand down in a move I’d executed over and over, every day for more than ten years, and twisted his arm up behind his back. I brought my right knee up into his face and smashed it a couple times, stunning him in the process.
    I loosened the grip I had on his arm so he could stand, giving him the false hope that he’d soon be able to come after me. As soon as his knee was no longer bent and in the way, I delivered a hard kick to his nuts.
    He groaned and bent over, but he didn’t go down. I’d let go of his left arm and realized my mistake when his hand reached around his back and came out with a knife. Before I had time to move out of the way, he’d slashed it at me, catching me in the arm with it. I danced away, the stinging and wetness I felt dripping down telling me he’s gotten me good. My arm still worked, but it felt numb all of a