An excerpt from Of Wolves and Primrose

1

It seemed as if in the twinkling of an eye time slowed to a crawl, if not suspended completely.  The window imploded with a fantastic boom, sending shattered glass whizzing through the air and scattering on the long conference table like a cacophony of little bells.  The force of this collision of metal, flesh, and glass propelled the four of them on an unpleasant and unexpected journey in airborne confusion.  Jessie was rendered unconscious in moments, the heavy, industrial trashcan striking him at the temple on the left side of his head.  Glass and cold metal made a mess of Jessie’s profile at the same time as consciousness faded. So little time to react or to think in this life.

            With Jessie on his back, the intruder released the trash can that he had ridden through the window and rolled over quickly onto his feet.  It was a maneuver full of more explosive and raw power than anything resembling grace. Glass crunched under the heavy, slow stride of this assailant, a man of unimpressive yet grossly overstated stature.  Mediocre procerity was made up for by the unbridled rage that he wore on his face like his own skin and the guttural groanings of an animal.  Those eerie sounds issuing from a human being seemed not to be a natural fit at all, but the pastiness of the man's skin, the ridge-like slope of his brow, lips cracked and rough like a scorched desert scape, the putrid, difficult to place stench of his breath, and the crimson stains covering his mouth and chin fit the audible and animalistic sounds quite well.

            Within moments, the ghastly ripping and tearing of human flesh was accompanied by the occasional scraping of teeth on bone. This unnatural sound acted as potently as smelling salts for Jessie.  It worked only to the point of bringing consciousness, not mobility. Struggling first to open his eyes, Jessie managed only to move his head slightly in the direction of the carnage that was taking place. The smells and screams of the event re-played in Jessie's mind before consciousness began to evade him again. His involuntary descent into darkness was aided by what had become the ambient noise of the stranger's ragged, heavy breathing and guttural growls.

            Jessie lay bloody, but untouched beyond the initial attack. His eyes opened again slowly. His olfactory senses were assaulted by the smell of horrible breath and a mustiness stronger than anything he had ever encountered before.  As his eyes began to focus, Jessie could only discern the outline of the man whose face was now inches from his own. Suddenly, a heavy, meaty fist slammed against his face and rocked his head backward, dragging his ear and cheek across the tightly woven loops of the Berber carpet.

            Though at an extreme disadvantage, and not yet completely possessing his faculties, Jessie’s body turned to instinct and to habit. Careful not to reveal his imminent strike, Jessie peeked through swollen and sore eye lids to identify the whereabouts of his target. His vision was blurred and dark, but a silhouette was all he needed. It felt to Jessie like trying to read a book after having a hot bowl of oatmeal splashed across his face. His eyes burned and he could make out only a distorted image of his attacker, but it was enough. Without noise and with smooth, quick movements from years of practicing the secret art, Jessie swept his legs in a rotary motion, clipping both the legs and one arm of his crouching attacker. His enemy tumbled to the ground. Jessie was too disoriented to launch a finishing parry, as he normally would have. Instead, he collapsed backward, his head spinning and body sore. The last things he heard were the sirens and the drum thuds of several pairs of shoes running along the carpeted hallways toward the room.  The intruder gathered himself and retreated through the window from whence he had come. Fading into nowhere, Jessie was faintly aware of the smell. It was a smell he had smelled before a long time ago. One might mistake it for flatulence, but it was unique. It was the odor of the layered, slimy green-brown leaves of rotten cabbage.