The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2438 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Simon has a saying, ‘It’s a lovely day just watch some bastard try and spoil it.’ It was to be the motto for the day. I was wandering back across the nature reserve when I saw some bloke walking towards me. He was big and obviously spent more time in the gym than a library judging by the size of his biceps and the tattoos all over them. I felt a bit vulnerable and stopped undoing my telescope and shoving it quickly into my rucksack. I pulled that back onto my shoulders and retracted the legs on my tripod. It now became a shorter but more robust weapon.

We walked almost to each other when he leant across and tried to grab me, except I sidestepped and whacked the back of his hand with the tripod. He yelled and lurched at me again, this time he parried my defensive swipe and although I avoided him grabbing my body, he got hold of my rucksack strap and swung me across the road and into some bushes. That hurt, but I managed to roll and avoid the kick smashing the tripod against his ankle. He yelled and swore at me in Spanish.

Adrenaline driven, I jumped up wrenching myself free of the bushes though my arms were stinging where I scratched them, but I was standing and as long as I kept on my feet, I had a chance.

This time he came at me aiming a kick at my face which I sidestepped and delivered a kick on my own to the back of his weight-bearing leg at exactly knee height. This time he went down yelling and I started to run. It was at this point I began to wish I’d brought a bike or done running as a fitness thing, not cycling.

I heard footsteps behind me, and then I realised someone else was running parallel to me but higher up the bank which I had to cross to get back to the road for home. So, I was going to have to deal with two of them, glad I saw the pine marten, tomorrow might be too late.

The one from above me suddenly crashed down through the undergrowth and stood in front of me. He was big and muscular but not as tattooed. I went to run around him then feinted inside before sidestepping back to my original course. It nearly worked but he dived back at me grabbing my leg until I smacked him on the head with my now slightly bent tripod. He held on so I hit him again and harder. This time he let go and I stepped away from him. Blood was running down his face as he jumped at me and this time I stabbed at him with the feet of the tripod which have spikes on the end for standing in soft ground. I caught him in the chest, ripping his shirt and possibly cracking one of his ribs but his impetus knocked me backwards and he nearly landed on top of me. I was winded but quicker rising and I stepped away from him just as his friend hobbled up. The return of hoodlum number one wasn’t exactly welcome made less so by his brandishing a quite large knife.

Number two was now on his feet and they both moved towards me as I began to think my time on this planet was now measurable in seconds if I was lucky. The knife flashed and I offered a cover drive to mid-on with the tripod. Did he yell as the knife flew away and his wrist cracked?

In the next instant number two lunged but my riposte was halted by a large black thing hurling itself at him in a snarling bundle of fury. The dog had him down and was busy trying to chew off his arm as he tried equally hard to stop it. Number one swung at me while I was watching the dog and his blow hit my shoulder causing me to drop the tripod and stumble backwards. He lunged and this time I jumped back and did a reverse kick which caught him mid-abdomen. He fell backwards and I kicked again this time at face level and he went down rolling about on the ground, blood rushing from his nose and mouth.

I called the dog off and to my astonishment it came and stood by my side snarling at the man with a very bloodied arm who was trying to roll away before the dog had him again.

A new man appeared waving a shotgun and when he whistled the dog flew to him. He nodded at me, “Okay?” he asked and I nodded. The next moment sirens sounded in the distance but getting closer and a minute later we had three police cars and a motorcycle on the scene.

The dog’s owner described what he had witnessed, the two men trying to attack me and me attempting to defend myself. Unbidden, the dog had run to my assistance tackling the one attacker while I had managed to fend off the other. Thankfully, he spoke some English and reassured me the police were not going to arrest me. The two attackers were bundled into a police van and I was offered a lift back to my villa after I thanked my rescuer and his dog who still bore the scars from his encounter with the fencing a week before.

“He recognise you, eh?”

“Does he?” I asked.

“You help him last week, yes?”

“I helped a dog, yes.”

“It was Bruno, he pay back, yes?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“’S okay.”

Simon went bananas when he saw me emerge from the police car bruised and scratched and my clothes torn and dirty. I thanked the police officer and he sort of told me I’d have to see his boss. I had a feeling it might have been the same man who read me the riot act when Cortez was apprehended.

“You must be getting old if you needed help from a dog to deal with two thugs.” Trish was even more aggressive than the two men.

“One had a knife.”

“You had a tripod.”

“I think a shotgun might have been more use.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in guns.”

“I don’t but until the dog took out one of them, I began to wonder if I was going to end up as a kebab.”

“But you disarmed him, Mummy.”

“It was all a bit too close for comfort, darling.”

“Your arms look sore, would you like me to fix them?”

“I think that would be a splendid idea, my darling.” I sat down and Trish began to do her bit with a spot of blue light. Next thing I saw was Simon with a cup of tea—I’d zonked but my arms did look and feel much better.