The Knife Thrower

Chapter 4

A half-hour later I slow to a stop, lungs burning, screaming for a break and throat raw. Ryan yells at me to run faster, to sprint like my life depends on it. I guess I'm not going fast enough because he starts running after me, saying he is an attacker and I can't let him catch me.

I push my body to the limit, even though my legs shake and my breath is uneven and gasping. I finish the fiftieth lap just as he reaches out to grab my shirt and I drop onto the floor, rolling out of the way. Ryan tries to stop but it is too late, he barrels at full speed into the wall.

He hits it with a sickening thud and crumples to the floor. I get up and run over to him. He is still conscious, thank goodness. I help him to his feet and sit him down on one of the benches. He groans, clutching his nose. I pull apart his hands to inspect it and see it is broken. I walk to the kitchen and pull out the first aid kit, a dusty box filled with bandages, gauze and herb treatments.

I hand him the box and he pulls out the gauze. He tells me to look away as he grabs hold of his nose. I nod and turn the other way, not wanting to see him fit it back into place. After a few grunts and several stomach-turning clicks, he says I can turn back round agian.

"It is okay, this has happened before and I know what to do. My nose will be fine and, I must say, nice trick you pulled out there! I underestimated you." He laughs and starts wrapping the qauze around his swollen nose. I continue with my exercises, trying not to feel guilty. It is a long time before he comes back onto the mats, his nose wrapped and pointing in the right angle. It still bulges out but in a few weeks will be good as new.

Every joint in my body aches and screams for a rest. My knuckles are red and bleeding from boxing with the punching bag and the sweat pours off me in waves. He sees I need a brake and sends me to get a drink. I pull out my bottle and thirstily gulp the water down my throat into my dehydrating body. Then I pour the remaining water over my head, letting the cold liquid trickle through my hair, down my neck. It cools my hot face.

I finish the bottle and join Ryan on the mats. He is holding what looks like a small black bag, no more than a frayed piece of cloth covering its contents. He hands the bag to me and I open it carefully. Inside are six double-edged throwing knives. They gleam in the dim lighting, wicked silver blade with a metal hilt. He tells me to practise using them now, knife throwing.

He has set out a target at the other side of the dojo; a white cardboard cut-out shaped like a full grown man is standing. A red circle painted where the heart should be. I pull out my first knife, feeling the weighted blade and smooth metal in my hands. I love knife throwing practise, it is my best form of combat. One flick of the wrist and the knife slices through the air at the speed of light.

I hope I never need to use them; I don't want to be responsible for taking a man's life. I hold the knife steady in my right hand, pull back and flick. The blade flies out of my hand and thuds, blade first, into the centre of the red circle. I walk over to the dummy and pull out my knife, ready to throw again. As I walk back to my position I decide to try something else, something trickier. I keep my knife in my right hand and pull my arm back like I am about to aim. Instead of flicking my wrist I twist it to the side and throw it.

The knife spins, hilt over blade, as it makes its way to the target. Thud, the hilt of the knife smashes into the dummies right temple. I can't believe that worked! I never tried it before but thought I'd give it a shot. That way the knife only knocks the person out but doesn't kill them. I continue practising with the knives, switching hands or using both techniques.

After a while Ryan walks back in to the dojo and tells me to stop. I stop mid throw and pack away the knives. I hand the bag back to him but he stops me. "No, you keep it. I hope you never need it but if you get into trouble I will feel better if you have these." He pushes them back into my hand and I do as he says. He tells me to go get cleaned up.