Hide and Seek by Jeff Struecker Page B

Leaning over the hood she drew a circle with the black marker on the silver surface. The action forced her to see her wounded hand. By gunshot standards it wasn’t much, but it hurt like the bullet took a finger off.
    She kept at it. In the circle she drew an X . At the top of that she wrote a 2 ; at the right side she penned 1 ; and at the bottom an M . She stepped back and looked at the cryptic symbol. The X indicated she had been here, the 2 that there were two people evading capture, the M meant they were on the move. She then added a plus symbol with arrow heads on one end of the horizontal bars and one on the vertical. At the other end of the vertical she drew a small circle, at the end of the horizontal she penned a dark dot. If any civilian or local militia saw the symbol they might guess that it was pointing the direction they had run and follow the arrows. Those in the know would focus on the solid dot and go in the direction opposite that indicated by the arrows. Now she hoped someone had been sent for them.
    She returned to the alley behind the restaurant and turned right—into the three young men. One seized her by the arm.
    “Look, we caught a frightened rabbit.”
    She judged the men to be in their early twenties. The one who held her arm wore dirty work clothes. She assumed construction. He was six foot two and at least 180 pounds. His two friends looked a year or two older and wore similar clothing. The man holding her arm pushed her back to one of the walls lining the alley. His breath smelled of cheap booze and bad gums. His friends laughed.
    “What’s your name, girl?”
    He spoke Russian. For some reason, lewd behavior seemed worse in Russian.
    She didn’t answer so he took a handful of hair and pulled her close. “I think she likes me, boys. What do you think?”
    They agreed.

CHAPTER 11
    AMELIA’S MIND RACED, HER heart tried to punch its way out of her chest. She thought of her father. He was a protective man and when she reached junior high school age and boys started showing an interest in her, he became concerned. A gentleman by nature, he, for the first time, displayed a side she had not seen.
    If you ever find yourself in trouble, you need to fight.
    She had never heard her physician father use the word. He was always soft spoken, kind, never harsh. A small man, she never heard him raise his voice to her or her mother. The memory poured into her brain. His voice rose from the back of her head. “There is no such thing as a fair fight. Anything outside a boxing ring is uncontrolled and there are no rules. An attacker follows no rules; neither should you.”
    She was too stunned to respond. He took a breath as if the conversation were causing him pain. “The best fight is a quick one. They begin it; you end it. To do that, you have to let loose the fury in you.”
    “The fury?”
    “There is a small gland on top of the kidney. It’s called the adrenal gland. Have you studied this in school yet?”
    “No.”
    “When a person is frightened or angry the gland floods your system with epinephrine—adrenaline. It makes you stronger, more aware, and increases your heart rate. Some people call it the ‘fight or flight’ factor.”
    “Um, okay.”
    “When you need it, it will be there. You have to let it loose and do what needs to be done.”
    “What needs to be done, Dad?”
    “Whatever it takes to get you out of the situation. Hurt the other person enough and they will leave you alone.”
    “Is this like some kinda karate thing?” The conversation made her uncomfortable.
    “No, although that might be a good idea.” He led her to the middle of the living room. “I’m going to show you a few things. I won’t hurt you.”
    “Dad, really, this isn’t necessary.”
    “It is for my peace of mind.”
    The lesson was nothing like what she learned in the Army, but it did get her out of a couple of scrapes in high school. She had to press for an answer but he finally relented and told