Prologue
Whoever came up with the saying, ‘A good big guy will always beat a good little guy’ probably knew what they were talking about; and, most of the time that saying is true. However, like many things in life, there are always exceptions to a rule.
Danny Campbell is one such exception. At eighteen he stood five foot five inches tall in his stocking feet. He had always hoped to get taller but now knew that he never would. He was certain that Lee Child would never write him into one of his books as a hero to take over from Jack Reacher.
Some short guys are only short in height; not all of them are short on stature. Calling them little rarely refers to their intellectual or physical abilities; it always seems to be about the height. Forgetting this little gem of information can be a big mistake - sometimes.
There is no doubt that some little guys can surprise even the best of the best big guys; however, it’s not very often. And, it’s common knowledge that when someone is trying to use the word little to insult or antagonise another person, they often have a limited vocabulary anyway.
A case in point was last night. Danny Campbell was making his way home from the club he attended in Upminster, a suburban town in east London. Three big guys decided that they would have some fun with the little guy. They were standing on a poorly lit street corner when he passed them. He was minding his own business, and would rather have continued on home to his flat, hassle free. However, that was not about to happen.
The light that the three men were standing under was flickering on and off as though it had a faulty connection. It looked uncannily like a scene from The Exorcist - just before Linda Blair’s head begins to rotate.
He was about ten yards beyond the group when they began following him. They skipped along on the soles of their Doc Martens with the confidence that bullies always seem to have in the early stages of an attack against a weaker opponent.
They had done this many times before; they knew that the little guy would make a break for it at the earliest opportunity, it happened every time a coconut. The little guy normally became frightened, and then attempted the break. With this in mind, one of the men followed behind Danny, in the six o’clock position. Danny noticed that he had more to say than the others, so he thought that he was probably in charge of the group. The other two took up station at ten o’clock and two o’clock from Six’s position, these two stayed three paces behind Danny and about the same in front of Six.
Six o’clock said to Two and Ten, loud enough for Danny to hear, “What do you think of this little tosser then?” Six had almost run out of breath by the time he’d finished speaking the sentence; his nervous twitching from toe to toe was taxing him physically.
Two said, in a nasal London accent, “He looks like a real man, you know, but in miniature, dun he? Know what I mean? What about we call ’im half man?”
“Well, he sure looks like a small one to me,” piped up Ten. “Half man it is.”
“So, what do we do about this miniature then - this half man?” asked Six.
Two was obviously intellectually superior to Ten because he answered that much quicker. He said, “I fink we should fuck him up - good.”
“Yeah good idea, mate,” said Ten - slowly, drawing out the words like a worn-out old has-been boxer.
While this circular conversation was happening, Danny was slowly rotating his head from side to side and his rear, quickly taking in all the information he needed to see and hear. He noted who was doing the talking, and how big they all were. He also noted the way they moved, which was their dominant hand or foot, and what might work in his defence - or offence.
Ten kept slapping his right fist into his left palm and shouting, “We’re gonna fuck you up half man,” with each slap.
Two was hopping from one foot to the other as though he needed to visit the toilet. For someone of his height, and wearing his big Doc Marten boots, Danny smiled as he thought about Two trying out for ballet school at some stage in his early life.
As though a signal flag had dropped, ‘half man’ heard, “OK, let’s fuck him up,” there was a pause, and then, “Now!” This loud instruction came from Six. However, he stood back, as first, Two, and then Ten quickly moved in like a couple of pig dogs going in for the catch.
‘A coward among the bullies’ went through Danny’s mind before he took decisive action.
He knew that Two was always going to be quicker than Ten, and he arrived first, as expected. The half man moved to Two’s left. His movement was so quick that when Two tried to recall later, in the hospital, whether his feet were actually on the ground or had they been floating above it?
Half man’s worn polished black working shoes had steel toe caps. The leather sole and part of the rubber heel of one shoe hit Two like a blunt axe. It struck his right knee with such speed and force that the knee joint simply blew apart as it tried to go back to an impossible angle. The patella no longer looked like a small disk at the front of his leg; it was now in two separate pieces, one lower than the other. The scream was ear-piercing. Half-man did not need to watch Two going down; he knew that the fall would happen like night follows day.
Ten rushed in with his right hand held way back. He was expecting to land a haymaker on the side of the little guy’s head. If he’d been a boxer, he would have been balanced a lot better than he was and Danny’s next move would not have worked anywhere near as well as it did.
As Ten’s huge arm moved toward half man, he had more than enough time to duck under the blow and avoid being knocked into the middle of the following week. He caught onto Ten’s wrist and expertly guided it toward the ground; he then swung it up again as it reached the end of its arc. This rapid change in direction sent Ten completely off balance, and his head continued its journey toward the ground. At this point, half man’s right knee hit Ten in the centre of his nose; blood and snot went everywhere, it looked like a red catherine wheel as the cartilage and bone disintegrated. The crunching noise when the nose broke was a sickening sound, even to Danny. Both of Ten’s eyes would be black inside ten minutes. There would be little or no chance of him being able to see properly out of either eye again for days.
Half man held onto Ten’s wrist, and the swinging arm continued moving upwards. The right knee that had done all the damage to Ten’s face quickly straightened and the right foot was back on the ground again by Ten’s left side. He firmed up his grip on Ten’s wrist, then bent the arm back viciously across his own, much lower shoulder. The elbow stiffened as the joint refused to bend any further. He forced it against its natural direction of movement, so it quickly went the same way that Two’s knee had gone. Reconstructive surgery would be required and about four to six months rehab.
As Ten dropped to the ground, screaming just as loudly as Two, the half man turned on his heel and glared over at Six and thought, ‘So, the leader remains.’ He moved, almost gracefully, to a position four paces in front, and slightly to the side of where Six stood, flat-footed. Six’s feet were less than shoulder-width apart, and he believed he was ready to tackle any movement to his front.
“Now listen, you little Kamikaze fucker,” Six shouted as he moved clumsily to his left, his fists turning white as they tightly balled up. “You may have taken care of those two fucking idiots, but I’m going to make you wish . . . ”
As he said this, the half man moved with incredible speed; his left foot landed four feet in front of Six and his right foot shot skyward. The sole of his shoe hit Six squarely under the chin. The jaw bones on both sides of his face snapped like dry twigs; his mouth involuntarily dropped open. There would be purple and black bruising over the lower part of Six’s face within minutes. He would need wire bracing to hold his jaw together, and a liquid diet, for many weeks to come. If Six had been able to make a noise, it would have been similar to that coming from Two and Ten. However, he simply fell to the ground unconscious after an undignified grunt.
Where Six, Ten and Two had fallen, the shape resembled a clock face; if the clock had three hands that is. Each of the big guys had somehow pointed their prone bodies toward his relevant clock-position. The half man saw the shape they had formed and couldn’t help smiling. He wished he’d had a camera with him so he could take a photo and give them all a copy to tape to the wall above their hospital beds.
The half man became Danny Campbell once more as he moved down the street toward his flat. He wasn’t even out of breath as he left the scene. He called 999 from a public call box on the way home. He said to the woman who answered the phone that he’d seen some men fighting near the corner of Gibson Road and Drew Street. He thought they might be gang members, but he wasn’t sure. He did know that they were all big men. The police person said, “Thank you for your help sir,” then wished Danny a good evening.
