Fanghunters by Leo Romero

him, but it was
nothing more than a whimper. He tried to breathe harder to push his chest out,
but it wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. And then it got worse.
    The guy revealed what he had in his other
hand.
    Dom watched in dumb horror as the guy
raised a blade into the air. Dom saw just how razor sharp it was; it glinted in
the small shaft of light coming through the steel front door. He groaned, but
what came out was a choke.
    “Neh-neh. Neh,” he managed to blurt,
shaking his head.
    “You ain’t gonna hurt MY father!” the guy
sneered through clenched teeth. His eyes glimmered with hate. Dom had invaded
his turf, looked to snuff out his drug dealer. And now it was time to pay. He
held Dom in place by the throat.
    And then brought the knife down.
    Dom’s eyes bulged.
    The final remnants of his survival
instincts kicked in. He managed to throw an arm up and grab hold of the guy’s
wrist. The knife stopped inches from his heart. With the last of his strength,
he pushed back against it. The guy realized what happened and began to apply
more pressure, his teeth bared like a rabid dog. A stalemate broke out; the
guy’s brute strength against Dom’s base desperation for survival. The knife
shook on the air under the pressure exerted by both of them in their struggle.
    Fight! FIGHT, DOM!
    Dom watched the guy, watched his cheeks
tremble. He watched his tongue dart out of his mouth and heard a grunt bolt
from his chest. With a grimace of hate, the guy began to apply more pressure.
And Dom felt it. He had the strength, the momentum, gravity was on his side. Dom groaned. Through bleary eyes, he watched helpless as the sharp tip of
the blade began to inch toward his chest, painfully slow.
    FIGHT! FIGHT!
    Dom pushed back, but it was useless.  
    The guy’s face shook under the pressure he
was applying. The blade kept coming down, the strength virtually gone from
Dom’s limbs. He watched on with apathetic eyes.
    I’m about to die… Jesus, I’m about to frickin’
die…
    Push him off! Push him off ! Dom gave it one
last effort. But the knife kept on coming.
    Dom saw the sweat streaming down the guy’s
face, saw the sick grin now spread across his face; he knew he was so close to
winning this bizarre arm wrestle. So close. He pushed harder with another
grunt. Dom groaned in horror as the tip of the blade poked his rib, pricking
the skin beneath his tee.
    He briskly shook his head. “No. No. No…” he
repeated in guttural bursts.
    The guy nodded in return, his eyes
whirling, a huge grin on his face. “Yes. Yes. Yes!” he replied in hot bursts. “You
die!”
    The blade pierced skin.
    Dom closed his eyes. This is it! I can’t
beat him. He’s too strong. This is it, buddy! Say adios. This is—
    A sudden loud crash forced Dom’s eyes back
open.
    A sound like someone kicking in a garage
door. Light from outside flooded into the hallway. It lit up the guy’s face;
his eyes were bulging in shock, his head now turned toward the front door. High
heels clacked on the bare floorboards in a rapid beat. From the edge of his
field of vision, Dom saw a high-heeled boot came flying through the air like a
sledgehammer. It connected perfectly with the guy’s jaw. There was a huge snap
like someone stepping on a broken shard of glass. The guy’s head was thrown to
the side before the rest of him flew away alongside it. He hit the stairs, his
ass jarring them with a loud thud.
    Dom didn’t stop to ask questions. Instead,
he scrambled away from the guy, relieved to be free of him, rubbing the spot
where the knife had pierced his tee and skin. The whole time, he stared at the
guy in amazement, the rapid episode akin to a bucket of cold water thrown in
his face. The guy was sprawled across the steps like a drunk. His head flopped
forward, making his jaw drop and hang there like a hammock. A tooth mixed in a
stream of blood spilt out his mouth, down his chin, and onto his chest. Dom
watched his glazed eyes roll up into his