Have you ever been hit in the face with a closed fist? I mean really hit with the full force of a swinging arm? Up until that night at Gibb Airport it was an event that I hadn’t experienced and I can tell you now it’s not something I’d really like to feel again.
Over the years, especially the years growing up with Matthew, I’d received plenty of head knocks, even a few deliberate smacks up the backside of the head. And in my adult years I bonked myself on the noggin more times that I could count under vehicles, under trees, or even in the roof of the house. I’ve even dropped spanners on my head working under the Beast. But I can tell you none of them even the ones where I might have seen a few stars was nothing like the punch in the head I got at Gibb Airport.
I don’t know if the fact that I wasn’t knocked out cold from the punch made any difference to the pain I felt, maybe because I was feeling it the instant it happened rather than waking up with pain, I don’t know, but either way it hurt like a bitch.
So what happened next?
As I said I wasn’t knocked out by the fist slamming into my head but I was knocked off balance. The pressure of that swinging fist into the side of my head and the sickening crunch of the knuckles pounding into the skin just below my temple rocked me on my feet. My head immediately swung to the right whipping my neck and pulling the muscles behind my left ear. As my head twisted my body followed and in a flash of an eye my upper torso was following the arc of my head. The weight of bag with the knife and torch in it aided in making me twist and I had no control over what it was doing.
My upper body slammed into the horizontal tubing of Nick’s bullbar, my right breast was slightly lower than my left because of the angle I was folding on and it took the brunt of my collision with the steel bar. I hit the bar just to the left of where the unconscious man laying at my feet had been introduced too it, had I hit the same upright bar things with my breast might have been a lot different because of its shape and its height.
Because I missed the upright bar I actually hit the horizontal bar and folded over it, the gun dropped out of my right hand and at that moment two things which I really don’t think I had control over happened. Firstly my left hand grasped the bar just to the left of my body and that eventually stopped me from falling to the ground. The second thing that happened was that my head bounced into the bonnet, not as hard as it could have but still hard enough to give me a little lump on my forehead.
“And what the fuck do you think you’re fucking up to?”
The voice obviously belonged to Growly man who had been upstairs in the comms tower last I knew. How he got down so quick, or how he knew I was there were strangely enough not two questions my brain was asking at that particular time.
I felt Growly man’s hand on my shoulder and a moment later he pulled me up off the bonnet an twisted me around until we were looking each other in the face. It was of course still night time and the darkness was only lit by the moonlight I had been using to guide my own way so details of Growly man were not easy to make out. Growly man would no doubt have been in a similar position when it came to recognising my facial features, however there was one distinguishing feature I had that seemed to make him more growly.
“A fucking woman? You’ve got to be kidding me! A fucking woman has come to save the cop! Now I have fucking seen it all.” Growly man took a breath in his otherwise well articulated speech and what followed was even more impressive than the first outburst. “Well babe, don’t think for a second that now I know you’ve got a set of tits that I’m going to go easy on you. Hell I’m not even going to go easy on you when I fuck you after I’ve beaten you!”
Like I said pure poetry, the guy was definitely the sort of fella you’d take home to meet your grandmother. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was shorter than me I think I’d have definitely been in love! Despite such strong feelings I said nothing in response figuring that anything I did say would just make him madder than he was.
I knew I couldn’t reach the gun at my feet, the knife in my backpack was also going to be impossible to grab, my only realistic possibility seemed to be to turn and run. However the problem with running was that I didn’t know where Growly man’s foreign friend was and I didn’t really like the idea of running without the gun that was at my feet.
It was at that moment my escape became clear. I didn’t like the idea of kicking or punching men in the groin, I never have, but there are times when such options are the only realistic choice, standing in front of Nick’s cop truck was one of those times.
Without any more thought I swiftly swung my right foot at Growly man’s crotch, my aim, length and speed was spot on and in an instant my foot connected squarely with a set of balls. The man swore and groaned, his hands then grabbed his balls and he folded over swearing at me. Not wasting any time I turned, with the intention of kicking my gun out of reach under Nick’s cop truck and bolting around the truck out of the man’s reach should he stand up and recover quickly.
However my plan didn’t quite go to plan because no sooner had I turned around than I met a second flying fist. This one hit me right on the end of the nose, smack back in the middle of my face not just knocking me to the ground but this time making my nose hurt really, really badly!
Previous Outback Rescue story here.