INFINITY: A Bridger's Origin
by Stan C. Smith
Chapter 1 - Trouble
by Stan C. Smith
Chapter 1 - Trouble
Passerina Fowler knew trouble when she saw it. The three guys crossing the street heading straight for her and Scottie were definitely trouble. She knew it even before Scottie tensed up and said, “Oh crap.”
“Scottie Ramirez!” one of the guys said. He was the biggest of the three, and Passerina decided she’d hit him first if these assholes tried to start something.
“Just stay out of this, Passie,” Scottie said to her. “It ain’t your concern.”
Passerina remained silent as the three guys stopped and stood in their way. She widened her eyes to make them think she was nervous.
The big guy took another step closer. “You Scottie Ramirez or not?”
“I just told you—he’s Scottie,” said the one in the middle, a gap-toothed Hispanic with two nasty scars on his face.
“Hey, Sal,” Scottie said to gap-tooth. “Where you been, man? I tried to text you a punch to the throat. But there’s no app for that. I looked. Twice.”
Scottie always had a way with words.
The three guys glanced at each other with furrowed brows, like they couldn’t believe what they’d just heard. Scottie usually weighed in around 145 pounds, Passerina about ten pounds less. Together they might have weighed as much as the big guy beside Sal. The guy at Sal’s other side was a skinhead with two gold teeth and a crucifix tattooed on his forehead. She hadn’t seen any of these three at the Scrapyard, so she had no idea how skilled they might be. Regardless, they were dangerous. What the hell had Scottie gotten himself into?
The big guy stepped up to Scottie and glared, like a fighter at a pre-bout weigh-in. The guy’s fists were balled up, and Passerina silently willed Scottie to keep his mouth shut.
“I want my money back, Scottie,” Sal said. “All of it. The stuff you gave me is worthless.”
Scottie spoke to Sal while glaring back at Big Guy. “It’s not my fault if you’re not smart enough to use them. I ain’t giving you no money back.”
“They don’t work! They must be old or something.”
Scottie still didn’t move his eyes. “I googled ‘who gives a shit.’ My name wasn’t in the search results.”
Big Guy drove a fist into Scottie’s abdomen.
Scottie had already tightened his gut, and he hardly even flinched. He said, “I’d hit you back, asshole, but that’d be animal abuse.”
Big Guy grabbed Scottie by the hair with one hand and wound up to punch him with the other. “You don’t know when to quit, little man,” he said.
Passerina forced her voice to sound distressed. “Guys, that’s enough. Just let us go.” She still had hope that they’d just back off. It was risky to fight in such a public place. Plus, these guys looked like they might be crazy enough to pull a gun.
None of them even glanced her way.
So much for that idea. She assessed Big Guy’s position. His right fist was up, blocking access to his throat, and Scottie’s body was blocking the guy’s crotch. She stepped closer. “Please—let him go. He’ll give Sal’s money back.” This time Big Guy turned to look at her, and Passerina immediately threw a jab, driving her thumb into his right eye as hard as she could. Eyeball juice squirted out, splattering her forehead.
Big Guy screamed and threw both hands to his eye, releasing Scottie, who then landed a devastating punch to the left side of the guy’s head. Big Guy collapsed like a sack of dirt. Passerina went straight for Gold Teeth, throwing jabs so fast that all he could do was try to cover his face. She needed to keep him busy, since he had at least fifty pounds on her. She’d only have about two seconds before he’d recover his wits and start punching back. She knew she could never win a punching fight with a guy this size, so she rammed her shoulder into his chest, threw her right leg around the back of his right ankle, and executed a hip toss, throwing him to the ground.
Passerina had two strengths—her over-the-top level of aggression and her grappling skills. She had won many of her fights lying on her back with a finishing hold on her opponent’s arm or leg. As Gold Teeth hit the ground, she grabbed his right arm, pulling it between her legs and against her chest. She flipped onto her back and put him into an armbar
hold with her legs over his face and chest, immobilizing him. She then thrust her pelvis up, threatening to break his arm. An armbar could usually be broken with a hitchhiker escape, but the guy apparently had no grappling skills because he simply submitted instead.
“Stop, man, stop!” Gold Teeth cried.
With the skinhead immobilized, Passerina twisted her head to assess the others. Big Guy was still down, his head rolled to one side so Passerina could see blood and fluid flowing from his eye socket. Luckily for him, he was KO’d. Scottie was standing over Sal, who had been knocked onto his butt and was holding a hand over his bloodied face. Several spectators were now standing around, staring. A woman with two little girls beside her had a phone to her ear, probably calling the cops.
“I’m going to let you up,” Passerina said to Gold Teeth. “If you make a move, I’ll take you down again and break your goddamn arm. Got it?”
Gold Teeth nodded.
“You got a gun on you?”
He shook his head. “No, man!”
Passerina released him, jumped to her feet, and stood above him, ready to grab his arm if it turned out he had lied.
Gold Teeth sat up. “Jesus, man! We were just trying to help Sal get his money back.”
“I told you,” Scottie barked, “I ain’t giving no money back! You always this stupid, or is today a special occasion?”
Passerina glanced at the phone lady and then grabbed Scottie’s arm. “Come on, we need to get out of here.”
“Shit, I think you killed Jefferson,” Gold Teeth said. “He ain’t moving.”
Passerina glanced at Big Guy. “He’s not dead. But you better get him to a hospital.” She started walking, pulling Scottie with her.
“You forget about that money,” Scottie called back to Sal. “This ain’t Walmart—I don’t do refunds.
Sal didn’t reply. He just sat there in a stupor, still holding his face.
Sirens sounded from the north, near the foothills, getting steadily louder. “This way,” Passerina said to Scottie. She led him between two dumpy patio homes and into an alley. When they were several blocks from the scene, she finally asked, “Okay, what was that all about?”
“Nothing.”
She stopped walking. “Nothing? You’re selling drugs, aren’t you? I thought you were smarter than that.”
He kept walking and spoke without looking back at her. “Remember when I asked for your opinion? Me neither.” He turned a corner, heading for the Scrapyard.
She caught up to him. “Scottie, I just saved your ass. And if I get caught, I’m screwed. I gouged out that big guy’s eye.”
He glanced at her. “His eye? Damn, Passie!” He sighed. “Okay, fine. I didn’t sell Sal drugs. It was a box of EPTs.”
“What?”
“EPTs. Early pregnancy tests. A whole crate of them.”
She stared at him. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why? They’re valuable!”
“Where’d you get them?”
“Maybe they were floating down the canal. Or maybe they fell off a damn truck—what difference does it make? Sal said he could sell them, so I sold him the whole box.” He shrugged. “What can I say? The guy’s an idiot. He’s the reason the gene pool needs a lifeguard.”
Passerina smiled at this. “The big guy was right—you don’t know when to quit.”
Scottie kept frowning. “That guy? He’s so dumb, he thinks Cheerios are doughnut seeds.”
She snorted. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”
“Don’t even get me started.”
“Scottie Ramirez!” one of the guys said. He was the biggest of the three, and Passerina decided she’d hit him first if these assholes tried to start something.
“Just stay out of this, Passie,” Scottie said to her. “It ain’t your concern.”
Passerina remained silent as the three guys stopped and stood in their way. She widened her eyes to make them think she was nervous.
The big guy took another step closer. “You Scottie Ramirez or not?”
“I just told you—he’s Scottie,” said the one in the middle, a gap-toothed Hispanic with two nasty scars on his face.
“Hey, Sal,” Scottie said to gap-tooth. “Where you been, man? I tried to text you a punch to the throat. But there’s no app for that. I looked. Twice.”
Scottie always had a way with words.
The three guys glanced at each other with furrowed brows, like they couldn’t believe what they’d just heard. Scottie usually weighed in around 145 pounds, Passerina about ten pounds less. Together they might have weighed as much as the big guy beside Sal. The guy at Sal’s other side was a skinhead with two gold teeth and a crucifix tattooed on his forehead. She hadn’t seen any of these three at the Scrapyard, so she had no idea how skilled they might be. Regardless, they were dangerous. What the hell had Scottie gotten himself into?
The big guy stepped up to Scottie and glared, like a fighter at a pre-bout weigh-in. The guy’s fists were balled up, and Passerina silently willed Scottie to keep his mouth shut.
“I want my money back, Scottie,” Sal said. “All of it. The stuff you gave me is worthless.”
Scottie spoke to Sal while glaring back at Big Guy. “It’s not my fault if you’re not smart enough to use them. I ain’t giving you no money back.”
“They don’t work! They must be old or something.”
Scottie still didn’t move his eyes. “I googled ‘who gives a shit.’ My name wasn’t in the search results.”
Big Guy drove a fist into Scottie’s abdomen.
Scottie had already tightened his gut, and he hardly even flinched. He said, “I’d hit you back, asshole, but that’d be animal abuse.”
Big Guy grabbed Scottie by the hair with one hand and wound up to punch him with the other. “You don’t know when to quit, little man,” he said.
Passerina forced her voice to sound distressed. “Guys, that’s enough. Just let us go.” She still had hope that they’d just back off. It was risky to fight in such a public place. Plus, these guys looked like they might be crazy enough to pull a gun.
None of them even glanced her way.
So much for that idea. She assessed Big Guy’s position. His right fist was up, blocking access to his throat, and Scottie’s body was blocking the guy’s crotch. She stepped closer. “Please—let him go. He’ll give Sal’s money back.” This time Big Guy turned to look at her, and Passerina immediately threw a jab, driving her thumb into his right eye as hard as she could. Eyeball juice squirted out, splattering her forehead.
Big Guy screamed and threw both hands to his eye, releasing Scottie, who then landed a devastating punch to the left side of the guy’s head. Big Guy collapsed like a sack of dirt. Passerina went straight for Gold Teeth, throwing jabs so fast that all he could do was try to cover his face. She needed to keep him busy, since he had at least fifty pounds on her. She’d only have about two seconds before he’d recover his wits and start punching back. She knew she could never win a punching fight with a guy this size, so she rammed her shoulder into his chest, threw her right leg around the back of his right ankle, and executed a hip toss, throwing him to the ground.
Passerina had two strengths—her over-the-top level of aggression and her grappling skills. She had won many of her fights lying on her back with a finishing hold on her opponent’s arm or leg. As Gold Teeth hit the ground, she grabbed his right arm, pulling it between her legs and against her chest. She flipped onto her back and put him into an armbar
hold with her legs over his face and chest, immobilizing him. She then thrust her pelvis up, threatening to break his arm. An armbar could usually be broken with a hitchhiker escape, but the guy apparently had no grappling skills because he simply submitted instead.
“Stop, man, stop!” Gold Teeth cried.
With the skinhead immobilized, Passerina twisted her head to assess the others. Big Guy was still down, his head rolled to one side so Passerina could see blood and fluid flowing from his eye socket. Luckily for him, he was KO’d. Scottie was standing over Sal, who had been knocked onto his butt and was holding a hand over his bloodied face. Several spectators were now standing around, staring. A woman with two little girls beside her had a phone to her ear, probably calling the cops.
“I’m going to let you up,” Passerina said to Gold Teeth. “If you make a move, I’ll take you down again and break your goddamn arm. Got it?”
Gold Teeth nodded.
“You got a gun on you?”
He shook his head. “No, man!”
Passerina released him, jumped to her feet, and stood above him, ready to grab his arm if it turned out he had lied.
Gold Teeth sat up. “Jesus, man! We were just trying to help Sal get his money back.”
“I told you,” Scottie barked, “I ain’t giving no money back! You always this stupid, or is today a special occasion?”
Passerina glanced at the phone lady and then grabbed Scottie’s arm. “Come on, we need to get out of here.”
“Shit, I think you killed Jefferson,” Gold Teeth said. “He ain’t moving.”
Passerina glanced at Big Guy. “He’s not dead. But you better get him to a hospital.” She started walking, pulling Scottie with her.
“You forget about that money,” Scottie called back to Sal. “This ain’t Walmart—I don’t do refunds.
Sal didn’t reply. He just sat there in a stupor, still holding his face.
Sirens sounded from the north, near the foothills, getting steadily louder. “This way,” Passerina said to Scottie. She led him between two dumpy patio homes and into an alley. When they were several blocks from the scene, she finally asked, “Okay, what was that all about?”
“Nothing.”
She stopped walking. “Nothing? You’re selling drugs, aren’t you? I thought you were smarter than that.”
He kept walking and spoke without looking back at her. “Remember when I asked for your opinion? Me neither.” He turned a corner, heading for the Scrapyard.
She caught up to him. “Scottie, I just saved your ass. And if I get caught, I’m screwed. I gouged out that big guy’s eye.”
He glanced at her. “His eye? Damn, Passie!” He sighed. “Okay, fine. I didn’t sell Sal drugs. It was a box of EPTs.”
“What?”
“EPTs. Early pregnancy tests. A whole crate of them.”
She stared at him. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why? They’re valuable!”
“Where’d you get them?”
“Maybe they were floating down the canal. Or maybe they fell off a damn truck—what difference does it make? Sal said he could sell them, so I sold him the whole box.” He shrugged. “What can I say? The guy’s an idiot. He’s the reason the gene pool needs a lifeguard.”
Passerina smiled at this. “The big guy was right—you don’t know when to quit.”
Scottie kept frowning. “That guy? He’s so dumb, he thinks Cheerios are doughnut seeds.”
She snorted. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”
“Don’t even get me started.”
*************************************************************************************
If you enjoyed reading Chapter 1 of INFINITY: A Bridgers Origin, you are going to
LOVE the rest of the book! It is now available on Amazon.
LOVE the rest of the book! It is now available on Amazon.