Грань будущего

           Withaswingofheraxe,Ritadestroyedhalfthecounterandasteel-reinforcedconcretepillar.

           Ibackedupfurther-intoawall.Idroppedtothegroundasavicioushorizontalswingslicedtowardme.Thebodybuilder’sface,stillgrinningmindlesslydownoverthekitchen,tookthehitinmyplace.IdoveforRita’slegs.Shesprangoutoftheway.Iletthemomentumcarrymebacktotheruinsofthecafeteriacounter.MyaxewasrightwhereI’dleftit.

           Pickingupaweaponyou’dalreadythrownawaycouldonlymeanonething:youwerereadytofightback;noonepickedupaweapontheydidn’tplanonusing.ItwasclearIcouldn’tkeeprunningforever.IfRitareallywantedtokillme-andIwasstartingtothinkshejustmight-therewouldbenorunning.FendingoffoneattackafteranotherhadleftmyJacketrunningonempty.Itwastimetomakeupmymind.

           TherewasonethingIcouldn’tletmyselfforget.SomethingI’dpromisedmyselfalongtimeagowhenIresolvedtofightmywayoutofthisloop.Hiddenbeneaththegauntletonmylefthandwasthenumber160.Backwhenthatnumberwasonly5,IhadmadeadecisiontotakeallIcouldlearnwithmeintothenextday.I’dneversharedthesecretofthosenumberswithanyone.NotRita,notYonabaru,notevenFerrellwhoI’dtrainedwithsomanytimes.OnlyIknewwhatitmeant.

           Thatnumberwasmyclosestfriend,andsolongasitwasthere,Ihadnofearofdying.Itdidn’tmatterifRitakilledme.Iwouldneverhavemadeitthisfarwithoutheranyway.