The rhythm of footsteps can tell a great deal about the demeanor of a person. Without even looking, one can determine the speed, intentionality, and type of shoe. A constant pattern of strong connections with the heel first usually displays a confident gait, while shuffling with the sole of the feet can indicate haste or anxiety. For this reason, when I heard the hurried sound of concrete scraping against rubber from behind me, I immediately turned my head to look.
Instinctively, I raised my arms to protect the back of my head. For this reason, the bat only struck my underarm and chest, instantly forcing all the air from my lungs.
No one knows how they will react under extreme circumstances. Scenarios can be drilled until we have specific protocols and movements memorized. However, reality is synonymous with unpredictable, and the sympathetic nervous system often has plans of its own.
I could practically taste the epinephrine in my mouth as I rolled over the hood of my car. As my hooded assailant switched his hips in pursuit I saw that his weapon was a little league slugger, glimmering under the parking deck lights.
The fight-or-flight response is a split-second reaction in which our brain fires every piston, our vision's frame rate is boosted, and a decision is made - fight or flee. All in the name of survival.
As the bat missed my face and became lodged in the windshield, I made my decision. A wild left jab thrown on wobbly feet found its mark. I instantly knew at least one of my fingers was broken. With the hoodie now fallen, I saw that his upper lip was split in two fleshy pieces.
A battle trance is characterized by combatants entering a psychological state in which they do not feel fear.
I barely dodged the back swing of the bat as he yanked it from the glass. Before he had time to change his momentum, I pounced forward and grabbed the bat's handle. With four hands now battling for position, I became aware of my considerable weight disadvantage. Before I had time to spread my feet, I found myself flung onto the pavement.
Talk is cheap. Survival is expensive.
Without pause I sank my teeth into his ankle until the metallic taste of blood registered. I heard the sound of the bat hitting the ground, and a searing pain was ignited in my left shoulder blade. Suddenly the side of my face was stomped into the asphalt. Still conscious, I grabbed his ankle, ensuring my fingers entered the holes I just created. Pushing his leg away, he lost his balance and fell hard. Scrambling back to our feet, I managed to gain a position behind with my hands around his waist. With all the primal strength I could muster, his body was lifted slightly off of the ground. With gravity now on my side, I diverted all downward force to his head and torso, like I was turning a giant wheel. Even with his hands outstretched, I managed to drive the crown of his head into the pavement with a dull,wet thud. I took a step back and prepared to continue attacking, but he seemed to be struggling to turn over. I reached back and frantically removed the knife from my shoulder; it was a flat-head screwdriver. My attacker was still attempting to move but repeatedly failed to bend his legs.
I returned to my car, opened the door, brushed the glass from the driver seat, and got behind the wheel. My one-year old daughter gazed at me inquisitively from the back seat. Her expression acting as a one-way mirror. I flashed her a grin and then winced in pain. She laughed.
Survival is a mechanism hardwired into every person. However, it is almost always a selfish act. Altruism is the complete opposite - a selfless concern for the welfare of others. Altruistic behavior is not conducive for survival, and makes little sense for individual fitness. It is science's laughably inadequate attempt at labeling the act of love. But since when did love make "sense" anyway?
There is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends..... John 15:13
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