The Wimp

"You've got to get out of here and call 911. If you get through, tell them what's going on now. OK?"

David must have gotten a nod because he sprinted back down the corridor and slipped through the door. A security camera showed him running low and squatting behind a kiosk as he entered the atrium area. The shooter was still taking random shots at the upper level. The instant he stopped to reload, David sprang from cover.

Running up behind the thug, David brought his left hand around the man's neck, grabbing his collar beside his right ear. David's right arm slipped under the man's right arm, pushing it up until he could bring his forearm behind the man's head and press his wrist into the left side of his neck. Yanking him back on his heels put the man's neck in a vice-like grip. The thug thrashed like a fish out of water and for much the same reason. No blood, and therefore no oxygen, was getting to his brain. When David attacked, the shooter had dropped his rifle. With his arm trapped, he couldn't reach the pistol strapped to his thigh.

It took 6 or 7 seconds but the man finally went limp. David dropped him and dashed to where the woman and child were hiding. She was crouched protectively over the little girl and flinched when he touched her shoulder. They had a brief conversation with David pointing to the service corridor from which he had exited. She nodded, grabbed up the child and sprinted off with David following closely shielding the pair.

By this time, the other shooter had reached the second floor and was looking over the railing at the fleeing trio. David, glanced back as he ran, spotted the shooter raising his rifle and reversed course. As David ran back across the atrium, he flipped the bird and appeared to be yelling at the thug who turned to fire at him. Zig-zagging as best he could, David almost made it to safety when a bullet struck his hip sending him sprawling on the floor.

Vickie watched horrified. Even though she knew he survived, part of her expected the fatal shot to occur at any second. The sniper was taking aim when his attention was drawn to two groups of black clad men just coming into the security camera's view. One group was approaching on the ground floor and another on the second. There was shouting back and forth. When the gunman raised his rifle at the approaching men, he was blasted back by a hail of gunfire. On the lower level, the second team was surrounding the thug David took down just as he started to come to.

The video faded back to the news anchor.

"We are pleased to report that the young man who disrupted the rampage is in serious but stable condition and is expected to make a full recovery. He requested anonymity and has refused interviews but we have learned he is a graduate student in social work at Aurora University and a second degree black belt in Judo. Joining us now is our news director, Michael Maxey, who studied the art while in the Air Force, Mike."

"Thanks, Tom. The young man used a strangle hold called kataha jime or single wing choke. It was a good choice for this situation. A kicking, punching or grappling attack would have been much riskier and less certain of success given his opponent was heavily armed, wearing body armor and possibly high or in a berserker rage. As you could see, it was well executed, putting the gunman out within six seconds while keeping control of his upper body. Would you like for me to demonstrate?"

The news anchor laughed nervously. His boss looked just a tad too eager.

"I think I'll pass, Mike. In other news..."

The news video faded and Marci reappeared.

"What do you think of your wimp husband now? Oops, I mean ex-husband. Too bad you never pressed David about how he got hurt. It might have made it a little harder to write him off as a loser. Oh, and Rory, since you convinced my idiot BFF that David was a coward because you couldn't provoke him into a fight, you should watch this."

Fade to another clip, this one in a large gymnasium. There were three large mat areas. Only the one in the middle was in use. A referee in a dark sports coat and slacks stood in the middle. At opposite corners sat two more officials.

"This was from David's junior year at San Jose State University when he competed in the national collegiate Judo championships. It was his next to last match in the Over 100 kg Division."

David and another man approached the mat area from opposite sides. They both wore heavy, canvas like jackets and matching loose fitting pants. David's was blue. His opponent's was white. He looked to be a good four inches taller and thirty or forty pounds heavier than David.

They both bowed as they stepped onto the mats and approached the center, stopping at tape marks about 12 feet apart. There was no sound, but the referee appeared to give a command. Both men bowed to each other and stepped across their tape marks. At another command, they began to circle each other grabbing for their opponent's jacket lapels or sleeves.

The bigger man was hopping around as you sometimes see fighters do. He appeared very confident while David avoided the theatrics. Suddenly, his opponent darted in, got a grip and turned into David, trying to throw him over his hip. The bigger man was too slow and hadn't broken David's balance. David crouched slightly and thrust his hips forward stopping his opponent. As his opponent turned to face him, David counter attacked. Spinning around so they were front to back, David brought his right leg up between the other man's legs, catching the inside of his left thigh. David's head was down. He was up on his left toes and his whole torso was twisting to his left.

The other man appeared to levitate off the floor and fly head over heels. David's body followed, driving his opponent hard into the mat. They landed with such force that many watching flinched including Vickie. The referee stepped forward, stood at attention and threw his right arm up in the air signaling the end of the match. Both men stood up, straightened their uniforms then returned to their starting positions. The referee stood between them, raised the arm on David's side and tilted it toward him indicating the winner. Both contenders stepped behind the tape marks, bowed to each other then came together in a back slapping hug. The clip faded back to Marci once again.

Rory's whole clique was staring slack jawed at the action. Even Angie had ceased her onslaught. They'd spent so much time and effort slandering David that they'd come to believe their own propaganda.

"Until the mall shooting," Marci's sultry voice continued, "David was considering trying out for the Olympics. The bullet in his hip ended his competitive Judo career. Just so you know, even with a bum hip, David can still take out Rory or any of those pretentious gym rats he hangs with. See, someone who really is capable doesn't feel the need to prove it all the time.

Well, now that we've put all that wimp crap to rest, we just have two more bits of business before we let all you cheaters, liars and back-stabbers get back to doing what you do best."

Marci's face took on a disgusted grimace.

"Vic, when you jumped on Rory's band wagon, you complained to me that David wouldn't fight for you. You wouldn't listen to me when I pleaded with you to talk to him, to give David a chance. Instead, you chose to jump on something of Rory's besides his band wagon. Well, now that we have your attention, maybe you will listen."

The video faded and David's face appeared. Even after all the water over the dam, Vickie's heart skipped a beat.

"Hi Vic, hi Rory. Congratulations on the marriage. I hope you make each other happy. I really do. I'm sorry I couldn't do that for you Pookie." A chill of regret swept through Vickie at hearing his pet name for her. "I am confused about a couple of things. When we said 'I do' to each other I assumed I no longer had to compete with Rory for your love and loyalty. I tried to be the best husband, friend and lover I could be. In that sense, I fought for us, for our marriage every single day. What did you do?

You said the same vows I did. What happened to standing by your partner for richer, for poorer. What about forsaking all others? When all those strange misfortunes befell us I never quit. I never gave up. I kept going because of you, right up until I found out what you had been up to with Rory. Your actions convinced me that you didn't love me and that I could never make you happy so I did the only other thing that would. I let you go. Pookie, it wasn't me that didn't fight for you, it was you who gave up on us. As someone who once loved you with all his heart, I wish you the best."

Vickie's stomach was now in knots. Her face had lost all color. She was a hair's breadth from passing out when Marci's face came on one last time.

"Well, one last thing before I sign off. Remember Gorge Garcia? He was the kid whose parents legally emigrated from Spain. The one your friends all picked on and called a wetback. The one you all kept telling to go back to Mexico no matter how many times he told you he was from Spain. He's an attorney now working for the Federal prosecutor's office in Chicago. He'd like a word with the groom, his father and the father of the bride."

The camera panned to the crowd. A very nattily dressed young man stepped forward and smiled.

"Everyone, please stay where you are. There are federal agents and local police at every exit. No one may leave until we execute various warrants. Rory Buchanan, Bradley Buchanan and Macauley Gardner you are under arrest for fraud, conspiracy to commit fraud and numerous violations of the RICO act. You have the right to remain silent..."

The ballroom erupted in chaos. People began shouting. Some rushed the exits only to discover the law really did have them bottled up. Vic saw her mother collapse in tears. Rory's mom resumed chasing her husband until Tasered and disarmed by two police officers. The three men in question were now in handcuffs and being read their rights for real. Marci was speaking again and Vickie had to strain to hear her over the bedlam all about her.

"Vic, your true friends are the ones that stick by you through adversity. They stand by you when you're being slandered even when they get tarred with the same brush. True friends look beyond the surface and accept you as you are. They tolerate your flaws and trust you to return the favor. Most importantly, true friends care about your well-being at least as much as they care about their own. Who are your true friends, Vic?"

The video panned across the crowd. Their hands were all raised, but this time the pinky, pointer and thumb were extended with the middle two touching the palm. It took a moment for her to remember. Marci's parents were deaf. They were all making the sign language short hand for "I love you." Marci's voice came from off camera.

"Vic, I know you're going to need a real friend after this is all over. Just so you know, I don't abandon my BFF even if her head is firmly planted in her ass. When you finally see sunshine, call me but not for the next two weeks."

The camera panned back to show all of Marci for the first time. She was dressed in a simple but elegant wedding gown.

"You know that life altering event I mentioned on my note?"

The camera panned back even further to show a limousine parked off to the side of the crowd. A just married sign was prominently displayed on the trunk. Vickie's heart began to skip beats. She couldn't breathe.

Standing by the limo, dressed in a tuxedo and holding the door open for his new bride was a smiling David.