Free Redemption by Danny Dufour Page A

for the needs of training. Danny had fingers and joints hard as steel after several months of training with the rice sacks.
    Sammy was impressed with Danny’s potential to explode. His capacity to free his energy into his hits was impressive. Sammy found that his movements were harsh and powerful, but they lacked perfect fluidity. He made use of a moment when Danny hurt himself in the stomach during a training to explain certain concepts. He had exhaled too wildly during a hit and the impact caused pain in his stomach. He had continued his exercise, but Sammy ordered him to stop for a spell to recover.
    “You have to leave time for the tissues and internal organs to reinforce.”
    “Don’t worry, Sammy, I just screwed up a bit. I forced it, but I’m fine.”
    “No, you're not! If you don’t leave time for your body, you could hurt yourself seriously, tear yourself inside and die. This art is of great power, but one must know how to use it adequately. The generated power could be more than your body can take.”
    “You’re saying I could kill myself?”
    “Yes, if you don’t listen to your body at moments like these. You know, certain styles could compare to a knife that one gives in the hand of a person. If you don’t pay attention, you could get cut. Certainly, that’ll hurt you, but it won’t kill you. Teaching Pak Mei, it’s like putting a grenade in the hands of a pupil. The margin of error is thin and the errors of manipulation for that which takes it could cost his life.”
    “Alright!  Godammit... Sammy,” he said, sitting on the ground while the other pupils continued to practice with a ferocious intensity, hearing their massive exhales accompanying the hits. An austere ambiance reigned. The practitioners took a very serious attitude. The only motivation was survival, to dominate the enemy. Concentration and intensity overruled with the candles and neon blue lights filtering through the place where no light of day could enter. You’d think you were in a parallel universe.
    “Here, drink this concoction. This will help you recover and reinforce your insides. Your wound is there for two reasons. The first is the weakness of your body, and the second is the lack of fluidity in your movements. Certainly, your attacks are vicious, direct, explosive and rapid, but you must have calmness and fluidity throughout. Pak Mei is like a wave that swallows everything in its path. You must have ferocity, but also fluidity.”
    “But you’re contradicting yourself,” said Danny, frustrated. “How can a person be fast and powerful… and at the same time mild and fluid?”
    “Life is a contradiction, Danny, but you are going to find out, I’m sure of it. Your attacks must be all at the same time. The real sensation of the power of Pak Mei, you learn it with time and practice. Learning this art is not so much learning the techniques and movements, it’s learning a sensation. It is said that an instructor of Pak Mei will teach the techniques, but it’s the dead that teach the essence and the power of the style. That's it, you are done for tonight.”
    “Fine.”
    Danny left the restaurant into the raging winter. The wind and the snow blew powerfully in the night. He blocked the wind with his hand, thinking about what Sammy had said. He could see the photo of the obscure monk named Pak Mei who watched behind the trails of incense that swirled around him. His way of fighting had changed. He was more solid in his positions, his hits were more powerful and destructive. His intention was determined and ferocious like those of a tiger. A change was surfacing in him, a power whose existence he’d ignored since it had invaded him those months ago. In his mind, He knew he was good, but not that good yet.
    *     *     *
    “She didn’t come to work this morning at the salon and she hasn’t answered the phone since yesterday,” said Katie.
    “Since yesterday… I talked to her yesterday morning before class