He hears me coming. Another log thumps to the grass. He says, “I want this woodpile re-stacked into a Shaker round. I’ll be back in two hours to check on you.”

“In this heat? Are you crazy?”

“Do what I say!”

Remember playing hide-and-seek? Ready or not, here I come ...

“No, sir.”

“Do it,” he says, stepping closer.

His voice shivers along my nerves. “Make me.”

His fist is a blur. Straight to the gut and no time to block. I trip over a log, fall backward, and crash into the woodpile. Pain front and back. Gulping air, I watch him move in for the attack. Won’t be a knock-out blow—he wants to enjoy this.

At the last second, I dodge sideways so his next blow glances off my ribs. Gives me time to get my feet under me. Don’t forget to breathe ... and focus, man, focus.

He aims for my jaw. I do a rising block and it works, by God it works. As he snarls like a chained dog, I try to keep my head. We’re close enough that I jab him hard in the chest with my elbow.

His breath hisses through his teeth. He punches me in the belly, a ferocious punch that comes from nowhere. My chin snaps forward.

Like I’m a machine, my right elbow’s back. Left downward block, his fist grazing my arm.

Gotta move away from the woodpile. Wishing I was barefoot, risking a glance at the ground so I don’t fall over another log, I bounce away from him. “Come on, Floyd, come and get me.”

Quicker than I expected, he’s after me. Sun blazing down on us—I better be careful it’s not in my eyes. I drop low, another rising block then a reverse punch, knuckles to flesh, that sound that’s been part of my life for years.

Not enough power. Not nearly enough. Remember what Docker said—elbows and knees.

Floyd’s temper is getting the better of him. I feint, dance out of his reach, land a side-kick to his knee that he never saw coming. But he does the same dance, fists coming at me so fast I lose it. Two hard thuds, pain stabbing my chest, sweat dripping down my forehead, blinding me.

“Got you, kiddo! I’m going to give you a thrashing you’ll never forget.”

Terror immobilizes me. Fist to the solar plexus. I double over, trip over another log and I’m down. Feet coming at me, his polished, hard-soled shoe poised to kick. I grab his ankle and twist, throwing my weight behind it, and down he goes.

I’m up, swipe the sweat from my eyes. As he rolls over and pushes himself upright, his face is bright red. All I have do is hang in, keep him moving.

Keep the sun in his eyes.