The Scorpion and the Dawn-Slayer

I watched as Detective Wiley ducked inside the chemical plant. Glass from the windshield was still lodged in my shoulder and leg; they hurt like hell. The Dawn-Slayer put a brick through the windshield of the 33 Marmon…lost control…hit a steel post. The accident left me disoriented. Can’t let that stop me now; I finally had the Dawn-Slayer on the run. This serial Killer had been elusive, always just out of reach. He always killed at dawn…preferred weapon: a brick. It was an effective instrument; easy to come by, easy to get rid of. Pulling myself out of the wrecked car, I started moving up the fire escape, I saw Wiley chasing the Dawn-Slayer inside through windows as I closed in.

During the last attack, the killer broke his routine and stabbed a girl with a fountain pen. Wiley matched the ink from the wound with ink on a nearby milk receipt. It was the same, and the milk man, Martin Mackey was the likely Killer. Detective Wiley doesn’t miss a trick, even though, when it come to danger, Wiley takes still dumb risks, they say at the precinct that he is his own worst enemy. I heard a scream inside the building. Bones and muscles sang in harmonious misery, as I crashed through a window on the upper level…near the mind-jarring wail. It was Wiley’s voice. Guess He caught up.

Wiley, was out cold on a conveyor belt, the Dawn-Slayer stood over him with a brick. The conveyor was moving towards a vat. I drew my curved jambiya dagger, the only weapon I had left. Pain exploded in my mangled leg as I crashed down to the conveyor belt from the mezzanine. I hadn’t recovered my balance when a brick struck me hard on the side of the head…shook me bad…seeing stars now… and puppy dogs, and shit. Another blow came and another. I messed up and landed too close… messed up alright, and maybe for the last time. He was singing me a lullaby with a brick.

With little hope left, I pressed my eyes closed and meditated attempting to summon mystic power from the core of my spirit, where Vankata dwelt. He taught me the ways of Rajput. I put the ongoing assault out of my mind. My efforts were rewarded. Vankata enhanced my heart with power of aparajayah. Empowered by the mysterious power, I could best my foe in combat by simply denying victory to his weaker spirit.

I launched attack after attack with my blade. Each found purchase in the killer’s evil flesh. He dropped the brick and collapsed groping at his wounds. Then the aparajayah left me. Dropping, the dagger, I struggled to pull Wiley from the conveyor. Still disoriented from the crash and head blows, there was no strength in my body. I pulled. No good.

Snatching up the brick from beside the crippled Killer, I mustered the strength for a single throw. The weapon struck the open gear box of the conveyor…hard. The conveyor violently lurched and both Wiley and myself fell free, plummeting to the ground. The Dawn-Slayer pitched forward into the chemical vat.

Inside each of us is the spirit of who we are. It can be made strong or made feeble, either is of our own design.

            THE END.