A fight broke out: What a way to die

HARTFORD, Conn. - Oct. 24, 2025 - PRLog -- If I had a weapon, any weapon, I could easily take these men. Were they to fight fairly, without weapons, I could take them in hand-to-hand combat. Fighting with a bare hand against three men who came prepared and loaded with weapons puts me at a disadvantage. They might even carry handcuffs as well, and if given opportunity might cuff my hands behind my back.

As my thoughts run amok, and as Akem exchanges more gestural dialogue with the men, the distance between us and them continued to narrow until the motorcyclist and his passenger were within a punch's distance away from me. Not outwardly making his intentions known, the wiry man behind the driver climbed down the motorcycle, took two steps to stand side by side with the man with thick set neck. He was way shorter than the thick neck set fellow, yet he commanded authority, a spiritual authority over him. Still, he was a stranger to the village and had the manners of a bandit. My eyes continued to track his right hand, watching when it would retrieve the concealed weapons inside his right pocket. The wiry man crept close enough that I could hear his heartbeat. I could have waited for him to pull his weapon out of his pocket, but I didn't.

In an impulsive reaction I let my right arm swing with sufficient force, aiming at the back of his well-manicured head. Stepping in quickly, the man with the thick set neck intercepted my swing midair with an extended and diagonal left arm. With his left arm out of the way, he exposed his powerful tummy, giving me an opportunity to forcefully punch it once with my left wrist. Stunned, he stood still with his big head, only winced, and let go of his bottom two deafening Flatus that briefly lanced the ominous blanketing village silence, and fouled the motionless air in the vicinity.

In what could only be a coordinated attack, the motorcyclist drove quickly, aiming his front wheel at Akem, who, by mere reflex, prevented being run over by throwing out his right leg.

The motorcyclist fell. What a way to die. All eyes were on his ashen looking deoxygenated dead body. One minute went by, and going to the second minute, miraculously, his lungs went into ripples of escalating cough to jumpstart his heart, thus permitting his departed soul, still lurking somewhere at the corner, to come back and reunite with his body. Success arrived when one lifeless leg moved, followed by the movement of the other lifeless leg, then followed by the entire body.

End of part 4
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