Body Surfing

mouth was set in a line as determined as the demon’s, and, more to the point, her hands held a shotgun, shakily but firmly pointed at the demon astride his barrel of applejack.
    “God bless the NRA,” the huntress said. “It’s easier to find a gun in America than it is to find a pyramid in Egypt.”

14
    J asper was less than ten feet from J.D. Thomas when he leapt. He had no plan of attack, but even as his right foot left the ground a thousand memories flashed through his brain. The women’s self-defense class Michaela had taken from a dykey-looking chick at the Y. The three months of jujitsu he’d taken when he was eleven, before his dad could no longer afford the bill. The thirty-seven Hong Kong martial-arts flicks Larry had watched (mostly in the common room in prison) as well as the more straightforward action movies Jarhead had taken in over the years. Every punch, snap kick, roundhouse, uppercut, karate chop, spinning back flip, and nameless pseudo-judo choreographed sequence that he or Michaela or Larry or Jarhead had caught even the tiniest glimpse of flashed instantaneously in his mind’s eye. But it was more than that. It wasn’t just pictures. The muscular action with which such moves were accomplished was also there. What had to flex, what had to relax. Where he needed to move, where he needed to be still. Where he needed to hit his target to do the most damage.
    His right foot was off the ground. His left. His bent hips were a full five feet up in the air. His left heel was snapping toward J.D. Thomas’s nose.
    Oh my God , Jasper told Michaela. We can do this! We can really do this!
    And then, so fast the motion was a blur even to Jasper’s amplified senses, J.D. Thomas raised his hand. With what seemed like no effort he deflected Jasper’s foot and turned it back at him. The force of Jasper’s kick sent Michaela’s body flying backwards at twice the speed with which it had come. Jasper wasn’t even aware he’d done a backflip until he found himself somewhat unsteadily standing on his feet, right where he’d started.
    He shook his head to clear it.
    “Jasper, please. I have no desire to hurt you.”
    Jasper ran forward again. He tried fists this time. Right, left, right, left, right, left. To the head, to the gut, to the chest. J.D. Thomas needed only one hand to parry both of Jasper’s. Jasper thought the man might actually yawn.
    “I have had thousands of years to hone my skill at this sort of thing. In years gone by I have taken on Roman centurions and barbarian hordes, Apache war parties and Nazi stormtroopers. Trust me, Jasper. You don’t have a chance.”
    Jasper dropped and did a leg sweep. By the time he’d reached the ground the doctor was no longer in front of him. He whipped his head around, just in time to see the doctor’s hand race toward his face. He didn’t even have time to blink.
    But the blow didn’t land. The doctor stopped his hand a millimeter from Michaela’s nose.
    “Are you ready to talk yet?”
    Jasper somersaulted backwards and leapt up. Once again he charged.
    He didn’t even see the punch. Just felt Michaela’s ribs crack as he flew backwards through the air.
    J.D. Thomas sauntered to Jasper, who lay prone in his host’s body, struggling to breathe.
    “Three ribs broke. The upper right two, and the second from the top on the left.”
    Jasper looked inside himself. He nodded painfully.
    Thomas shrugged. “You’ll fix them.”
    Jasper’s head whipped back and forth. He tried to get up, but oneof the doctor’s wingtips came to rest on his broken ribs. He applied a little pressure, and deep inside him, Michaela screamed.
    “So that’s it?” Jasper said when he could speak. “You’re going to use me as a guinea pig? Take me back to your lab and rip me apart, find out what makes me tick?”
    The Mogran picked a bit of lint or blood from beneath a nail. “As I tried to tell you several times, I have no intention of hurting you.”
    Jasper shook his head. “Huh?”
    “I did want to conduct some experiments on you, but unfortunately too many people know about my lab now—Ileana and Q. and of course Leo. It would be difficult to kill them all without detection. I will need to relocate, assume a new identity, and build a new lab.” He looked himself up and down. “It will be nice to shed this personality. I have grown so tired of playing the fop. I’m thinking of going a bit more 007. Then perhaps I’ll come looking for you, to see if