was just showing off a new toy. Seeing that the men’s eyes were now fixed upon his hand and pistol, he clicked off the safety for added effect. Daniel was scared beyond all belief, his pulse quickened, his vision narrowed, and the sounds of the world started to fall away.
The hairy man took a step forward, trying to keep his crocodile grin from going askew as he said, “No, no. Not that…,” his eyes rolled, “Those. What have you got in the bags, friend?” Despite the chuckle in his voice, Daniel could tell that some of the authority he was trying to convey had gone into hiding on him. “You got anything good in there that you might…say…like to share with us? I mean, we are friends, right?” He then turned his head to look at his cronies, watching them sequentially nod in agreement.
Daniel did not know whether the man did this as a reminder about his being outnumbered, or if he was just making sure that the pair still stood behind him. Either way it bolstered him enough to take another step forward. The hairs on the back of Daniel’s neck stood up on end, and his palms suddenly felt moist and clammy. He had to take action soon, the man was almost within arm’s reach.
“I’ve got nothing for you…or your dogs,” Daniel spat, taking half a step backward, while smoothly pulling the pistol out at the same time. He kept the gun’s barrel pointed in a neutral position at the ground by his feet.
Trying to force his peripheral vision back into use Daniel darted his eyes around, desperate to ensure that no one was sneaking up on him from behind. Bringing the pistol into play could easily backfire. He was so handsomely outnumbered that it might quickly escalate the situation beyond his control.
Playing off of Daniel’s slight breach in etiquette the hairy man spoke, not just to him, but to the crowd in general. “Hey, there’s no need for that!” he announced with his arms spread out wide. He had said it like he was genuinely hurt by the sudden appearance of the gun. The hairy man was certainly smarter than Daniel had initially given him credit for. He was testing the waters, seeing if he could urge more help from the surrounding crowd. The crowd however, remained blissfully silent and motionless. No help was coming for either party.
“Look, just get out of my way. I’m not in the mood to play with you or your fucking buddies right now,” Daniel expressed heavily. It was too late to try another tactic, best to stick with the illusionary position of strength. He attempted to accomplish this by including all three of the men in the overt threat, the pistol tilting up ever so slightly. There was still no mistaking that he was surrounded by a far superior force, even if their body odor did well-up tears.
The dirty thug stopped spinning the axe, dangling it down by his knee; not a good position for a fast move. The tall skeleton of a man had still made no attempt to reach for whatever kind of weapon it was tucked down his pant leg. The zenith of the past few moments would come down to what the hairy man did next, as he was obviously the leader of this dysfunctional troupe.
The grin was wiped clean away from the hairy man’s face, as if Daniel had only imagined it there in the first place. It certainly no longer looked like a face that had seen many smiles. He now seemed to be trying to gauge the distance between himself and Daniel. His hand started to twitch while he apparently contemplated a suicidal lunge forward.
Survival out in the unprotected areas often meant having to swallow your pride, which is undoubtedly the absolute lowest form of the phrase ‘live to fight another day’. This was usually sold to the brain as a weighed-out equation involving energy expenditure over potential energy gained, but it still involved yielding ground first. Luckily for Daniel the fuzzy man had learned this lesson long before meeting up with him.
There was little chance of surviving a head-long attack, so the hairy man eventually relented. Looking more than ever like he was only one generation removed from having knuckles dragging on the ground, his brow furrowed, mentally struggling between bloodlust and self-preservation. “Yeah, you’re a big tough guy with that gun. Probably doesn’t even have any bullets in it. Bet’cha it don’t.