Free The Gift of the Dragon by Michael Murray Page B

machine.  
    Expensive stuff, she thought. She heard Jenny’s voice say, “You remember things from your past but not people. Every brain injury is different.”  
    I must have known what these things did, once . Why? To one side waited a full kitchen with a fridge, stove, and dishwasher. She noticed another door at the far end of the room. She looked at the exam bed with the bloody paper. She would come back to look at that more closely, she thought, but first she wanted to see where the door went. This door had a small window in it. She looked through and into the waiting room she had first entered. Another hidden door; what is going on with this place ? She turned and headed back to examine the bloody bed. Just as she reached it, she heard a metallic crash . My Red Bull can?  
    Darn, now it stinks to have all these lights on!  
    She rushed back to the window to see what had made the noise but then, hearing a click, she dropped to the floor just as a stream of bullets cut through the wall above her, whatever shot them making only slight puffing sounds.  
    The silence of the gun amazed Alice. Betting that the gunman would not shoot the same place twice, she slowly raised her head until she could peek through one of the bullet holes about two feet from the floor. She saw the broad, black-covered back of the man, his hands fiddling with the door to the hallway. Thank goodness I locked it behind me!  
    Move now, said that voice again . She shook her head. Did I hear all these damn voices before I got shot? She found the latch on the hidden door. It had a curved lever type of handle; she pulled it down, yanked the door open, and did a forward roll into the waiting room, coming up with Moore's Centennial in a double-handed grip, just as the gunman whirled about. He wielded a short, carbine-style gun. That is a De Lisle carbine, quietest gun ever made.  
    “Drop it!”
    He wore a thick flak vest over a black combat suit, with a hood over his head revealing only his eyes. He glared at the Centennial, then at her. Shoot, he’s going to—
    He hurled the carbine at her and rolled to his left, coming back up. “Dang,” she spat, ducking under the spinning carbine and dropping the useless Centennial, cursing Moore for not keeping it loaded or having any bullets in his underwear drawer. The gunman came out of his roll, his foot flashing through the space where her gun hand would have been if she had tried to keep it pointed at his twisting form.  
    If she were slower.  
    She came in with a kick to his stomach, doubling him over enough for her left elbow to strike him in his jaw. She could feel him rolling with it though. He is good! She grabbed his head and jammed her knee into his face, but he turned and only took a glancing blow. He went down then, and as her momentum took her in toward him, he caught her with a foot to the stomach, dropping her to her knees. He followed up with his other foot to her head, a solid blow she only partly ducked. She saw stars and tasted blood as she rolled back out of his range.  
    They faced each other for a second, and then he charged with a roundhouse right she blocked easily. She struck out with her own right. He caught that and spun into a kick she slid off her left shoulder. Still turning, he aimed a back kick at her, and she moved out of the way barely in time, taking a hard blow on her shoulder. He is using kung fu , so he will block and counter next . She aimed a kick at his stomach again and pulled back just as he committed to the block. He spun to combine his block with a strike where her head should be. She stepped inside his spin, doubled her fists, and as he rolled around her fist met his face just at the peak of his turn. The impact rolled up her arms as she held her strike, and she felt his nose crack. Out loud this time, she said, “That one you didn't dodge.”
    He glared at her and then licked his lips and grinned.  
    “Haven't had a real fight in a while, babe.” His