Chapter 4: The Utter and Complete Death of Jonas Jourdan
Seizing the opening, Jonas lunged forward. A piston-like fist crashed into Solido's face, followed instantly by another brutal strike to his wrist.
Under the full force of the blow, Solido's head snapped back, and he collapsed onto the sand with a heavy thud. The dagger tumbled from his nerveless fingers.
"I thought I'd actually met a kindred spirit... a friend I could talk to," Jonas growled, the words forced through his clenched teeth, his voice a low tremor of barely-suppressed rage. "And all this time, you were planning to kill me?!"
Solido's eyes, now filled with a dark, venomous hatred, glared up from the ground. His plan was in ruins. "Tch...cough, cough... I underestimated you," he spat. "I should have just killed you in your sleep last night."
"Save your pathetic excuses for the cops," Jonas snarled, moving in to restrain the bastard.
But as he stepped forward, a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye. He glanced down at his hand—the same hand that had been gushing blood moments ago. Not only had the bleeding stopped, but the wound... it was gone. Healed. Utterly vanished.
Furthermore, the crimson stains that had soaked the desert sand had also disappeared without a trace.
It was as if the injury had never happened. As if it were all a hallucination. But Jonas knew, with absolute certainty, that the searing pain and the sight of his own blood had been real.
He froze, a profound sense of self-doubt washing over him. What is this? An illusion? Am I still asleep in my hotel bed, caught in some bizarre dream?
That single moment of hesitation was all Solido needed.
He exploded from the ground, a second, smaller knife appearing in his hand as if by magic. He thrust it directly at Jonas's stomach.
Jonas snapped back to reality in a heartbeat. His left hand shot out, clamping down on Solido's wrist and stopping the blade cold. His right hand, clenched into a fist of stone, swung without a shred of hesitation.
BASH!
The sickening, wet thud of knuckle meeting flesh echoed in the silence. The punch landed squarely on Solido's face with unstoppable force, the impact sending visible ripples across his skin. His eyes widened in a mixture of shock and agony as he was sent flying backward once again.
Suddenly, a sharp, gravelly voice cut through the air. "HEY! What do you think you're doing, assaulting a tourist?! Stop right there!"
A man in a rumpled Egyptian police uniform had appeared, a pistol already drawn and leveled nervously at Jonas.
At the same instant, Solido's crumpled body landed at the officer's feet. Seeing his chance, he immediately pointed a trembling finger at Jonas and began to scream.
"Help! I'm just a tourist! This maniac attacked me for no reason! I think he's a mugger! Officer, you have to arrest him!"
Without missing a beat, Solido fished a wad of Egyptian pounds from his pocket and discreetly shoved it into the officer's hand.
"What?! Don't listen to this scum! He's the one who tried to kill me!" Jonas roared, his jaw twitching in disbelief. He had a newfound appreciation for just how utterly shameless Solido could be.
The policeman's gun wavered, pointing from Jonas to Solido and back again. For a moment, he looked genuinely confused. But in Egypt, the truth was irrelevant. What mattered was who could make him happy.
Feeling the satisfying thickness of the bills in his pocket, the officer was now very, very happy. It was clear that Solido, having been in the country for a while, knew exactly how to deal with local law enforcement.
"Hey! Are you seriously taking a bribe right in front of my face?! Do I look invisible to you?!" Jonas bellowed, pointing an accusing finger.
The officer gave a contemptuous smirk, his pistol now aimed squarely at Jonas. "Bribe? I don't know what you're talking about. All I see is you assaulting this poor, innocent man! Hands on your head, now! I'm going to have to search you."
As he spoke, the cop advanced, his greedy eyes darting to the bulging backpack on Jonas's back and the pockets where a wallet might be hidden.
This is bad...
Now even the police were on Solido's side. The situation had become monumentally troublesome. Jonas knew his physical conditioning was far beyond that of a normal man, but that didn't mean he could catch bullets with his bare hands.
As Jonas desperately tried to think of a way out, a cold, predatory glint appeared in Solido's eyes. He silently stepped up behind the approaching policeman. The officer, either trusting the man who had just paid him or simply arrogant in the power of the "truth" he held in his hand, didn't even look back.
The next thing Jonas saw made his blood run cold.
The officer's gun hand was suddenly seized from behind. Simultaneously, a cold, metallic sensation touched his neck, followed by a searing pain.
Solido had grabbed the policeman's gun with his left hand while his right, holding the small knife, plunged deep into the officer's neck.
In an instant, blood erupted like a geyser. The blade had severed his carotid artery.
"Ghh... urrggghh..."
The officer's body went limp, a deep, paralyzing cold spreading through his limbs as his vision swam and darkened. Solido wrenched the pistol from the dying man's hand and aimed it directly at Jonas.
Thump.
The policeman's body hit the sand. He'd be dead from blood loss in minutes.
Jonas knew, with chilling certainty, that the tables had turned completely. With a gun in his hand, Solido now held all the cards. He held the power to end Jonas's life.
But Jonas Jourdan was not the type to simply lie down and die. If this was to be his end, if he was truly cornered, then he would sink his fangs into his enemy and tear off a piece of flesh on his way to hell!
In the next instant, Jonas moved. He exploded forward, powerful legs churning the sand, fists clenched as he charged Solido like a raging bull.
CLICK.
Solido cocked the hammer.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
He squeezed the trigger four times. It wasn't that the gun was empty; it was that Jonas, teeth gritted and face a mask of pure fury, was closing the distance with terrifying speed.
All four bullets found their mark, slamming into Jonas's chest. One pierced his heart. The sheer kinetic force of the impacts momentarily halted his charge, but he roared, corrected his stance, and threw a final, desperate punch.
The sound of the impact was like a sledgehammer hitting a side of beef. The fist connected with Solido's face. Solido's pupils contracted to pinpricks as agonizing pain exploded in his skull. He could actually hear the sound of his own bones cracking.
Fighting through the pain, Solido raised the pistol one last time and squeezed the trigger.
BANG!
This time, the shot was true, hitting Jonas squarely in the head.
Jonas, who had been winding up for another punch, froze completely. His fist stopped just four inches from Solido's shattered face. Solido had no doubt that if that second punch had landed, he would be dead or crippled.
But it didn't matter. The victory was his! A bullet to the brain... not even the most advanced medical science on the planet could fix that.
"HAHAHAHAHA! In the end, victory belongs to ME!" Solido shrieked, his bruised and bloody face contorting into a triumphant grin.
The light faded from Jonas's eyes. His body could no longer maintain its balance. He swayed, and then fell backward onto the sand.
Thump.
Jonas's pupils were vacant, staring up at an empty sky.
He was completely and utterly dead.