Page 6 of Trusted Instinct
Auralia had expected the yelling and curses, and maybe some spitting and shoving, but what she hadn’t expected was what happened next.
Someone grabbed at Doli’s camera.
Auralia heard Remi’s good counsel in her head, dropped her pack off her shoulders, and pulled it around to wear it on her front so that people couldn’t grab her as easily from behind.
She spun in place to help her camerawoman.
Shuffling a foot forward, Auralia managed to reach around Doli and wrap her fingers under the vulnerable pinky finger of the guy trying to steal their camera. The weakest finger on the hand, one that caused disproportionate pain, Auralia bent the man’s digit back toward his wrist, producing a howl and a release. Auralia gave the finger a little extra thrust to dissuade the guy from reaching out again.
As he violently shook his arm up and down, flicking his hand to relieve the pain, Auralia put her hands on Doli’sshoulder, a kind of buttress that gave them stability and hopefully kept them together as she pushed Doli forward.
Auralia’s elbows were bent enough to make them stabby and to prevent someone who knew how to fight from shoving a palm fist into the sides of her arm and snapping her like a chicken’s wishbone.
They were making headway.
Not fast enough.
A water bottle clipped Auralia’s clavicle and bounced away, and another bounced off the side of her head.
Kamar and his camera crew were there to her right, rolling tape and narrating the scene. That was his professional role here: observe, don’t intervene. He would do nothing to help. And he was right to make those decisions.
But the debris landing on their heads was getting larger and more bruising.
And now, the crowd had had enough of the hands-off approach. From behind, Auralia felt the tug of someone wrapping their fingers into her hair bun.
Auralia released Doli’s shoulders to reach back over her head and grab hold of the man’s wrist. With a quick bend to the right, she twisted under his arm, wrenching his wrist into a position that forced him to release her hair as she pressed his elbow straight, capturing the guy in an armbar—a point of stability for her next move.
From there, she swung her shin up between his legs. His wide stance allowed her to aim for the hair on his head. As Gator always told her, if you aim for the crotch, the power stops there; aim higher so the impact is crippling. Auralia’s kick put the shithead in a fetal position where he couldn’t teach folks that grabbing was okay.
Doli pressed her back against Auralia’s.
How many times had this happened? How many times had they “had each other’s backs” as they fought their way through mobs around the world?
There were so many furious faces—men and women—oily and sweaty with bulging angry eyes and spit flying from words that Auralia couldn’t make out.
She felt Doli go down behind her, so she spun around to drag her friend up, but someone grabbed Auralia’s shirt and bra band, jerking her so that she had to fling her arms and scramble to keep herself upright.
Auralia needed to get Doli off the ground. Down was dangerous, even deadly.
To free herself, Auralia did the same bend and spin. It pulled the strap tight around her ribs, abrading her skin with elastic. She couldn’t make it far enough around to twist free. In fact, she probably trapped the woman’s fist in the shirt fabric.
Auralia reached up and grabbed the woman’s elbows as support while she lifted her knee and scraped the edge of her tennis shoe along the woman’s shin, then stomped hard on her insole.
Now Auralia brought her hands together at her navel, as if in prayer, driving them up through the opening made when the woman’s grasp encircled her. Hands overhead, Auralia made fists and drove her elbows down, forcing the woman to release.
The shock on her face.
Did this person think Auralia would just allow herself to be beaten?
This was nuts. Nuts!
Auralia’s arm twisted to block the blow aimed at her nose, vaguely clocking that this was probably the woman’s husband since she was clinging to his shoulder, hopping on one foot as she cried.
And then there was a man with a high and tight haircut who stepped between Auralia and the attacking couple, looking cool and efficient.
A woman with a bun just like Auralia’s put her hand on Auralia’s shoulder. “We’ve got you.”
Another jarhead lifted Doli to her feet.
