Rising up, back on the street Did my time, took my chances Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet Just a man and his will to survive
So many times it happens too fast You change your passion for glory Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past You must fight just to keep them alive
It's the eye of the tiger It's the thrill of the fight Rising up to the challenge of our rival And the last known survivor Stalks his prey in the night And he's watching us all with the eye of the tiger
Face to face, out in the heat Hanging tough, staying hungry They stack the odds 'til we take to the street For the kill with the skill to survive
It's the eye of the tiger It's the thrill of the fight Rising up to the challenge of our rival And the last known survivor Stalks his prey in the night And he's watching us all with the eye of the tiger
Rising up straight to the top Had the guts, got the glory Went the distance, now I'm not going to stop Just a man and his will to survive
It's the eye of the tiger It's the thrill of the fight Rising up to the challenge of our rival And the last known survivor Stalks his prey in the night And he's watching us all with the eye of the tiger The eye of the tiger The eye of the tiger The eye of the tiger The eye of the tiger
Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Frank Sullivan / James
Eye of the Tiger lyrics © Wb Music Corp., Sony/atv Melody, Easy Action MusicC.:
Well, ”Tripe T” is threatening me that he will do to me what he did to his old henchman if I don’t return the money that I “came by honestly.” I suppose that means that Tom the Tabby will run around me until I get nauseous from watching him run in circles. So, I must get into shape to keep it from happening. I’ll run these stairs until I can’t run anymore. Stair-stepping to failure should be the best way for me to get into tip-top condition quickly.
Two minutes later
C.: That’s enough of that! d.c. wanted me to look at the rest of the ten thousand words he has written for his fourth novel, “A Full Pardon; A Graying of the Law.” When he said that it is the penultimate book in “The Magruder Mysteries” series, I thought he meant it would be the best one, NOT the next to last one! d.c. says that It will be both. So far, so good. Let’s see, where was I? Oh, yes, I remember now.
Nikolai rose and stretched. It was time to go to work. The sun was sinking into the western sky, and the unrelenting heat eased somewhat when the sun went down. If Nikolai had a watch or cared to try to tell time by the sun, he would have surmised that it was around eight-thirty at night. Nikolai had no reason to keep track of time, though. He was stuck on an uncharted island by himself with nothing to do and nowhere to go. Nothing to do, that is, but try to survive. That was his main objective and his all-consuming thought.
Nikolai had tried to end his life five years before, but his survival instincts kicked in. Muscle memory made the former Olympic-caliber swimmer’s form ideal, and his body was trained to swim a long distance without rest. When he saw the raft floating unencumbered and unoccupied, his survival instincts led him to try to mount the raft. The current carried him to an uncharted island, where he found supplies and a large, hollowed-out rock that had obviously been used by the previous inhabitants of the island to both cook fish and other meat and to purify sea water for drinking.
Nikola’s skin had first and second -degree burns from being exposed to the sun for many hours while drifting on the makeshift raft. He stayed on the first island until boredom overtook him and his sunburn had somewhat healed. He decided then that he would seek a way back to his former life. He boarded the raft and paddled with the long paddle that had been left on the raft, but the current was too strong. It carried him eastward, away from his target destination.
Nikolai knew that Asia lay west of his island.. Getting to a country in the southern part of the continent was his goal. He knew he wouldn’t be able to paddle there, though. His hope was that he would come across a ship that was docked. He hoped the crew would be oblivious to his existence. That would make it easier for him to climb into the hold unnoticed.
After three hours, Nikolai was exhausted. He lay on the raft and let the current carry him wherever it chose. When he awakened, he was on the beach of an island with a curious word etched into the sand with a sharp stick. Nikolai had renewed hope. Perhaps the island was not devoid of human life, he surmised.
Nikolai journeyed fifty meters inland, seeing no other signs of human existence on his new island. He did, however, find something useful. On the “Island of Pishon,” (That’s the name that Nikolai saw on the beach where he drifted to land), Nikolai found his relief: Popivor Seniform. Someone had been here before and had gotten off the island. That gave Nikolai hope, but he was still in pain.
The plant that heroin and all narcotics are derived from was readily available, so Nikolai ingested enough of the plant to keep a six-foot, two-inch, two-hundred-twenty-pound man unconscious for twelve hours. It was enough to kill a smaller person, but Nikolai was a large, muscular man. It would take more of the plant to kill him than the average person.
At first, Nikolai tried to figure out how much of the plant it would take to end his life. However, one week after he landed on the island, he thought he caught a glimpse of a ship. That gave him even more hope. It may have been a mirage, he reasoned, but he still had his survival instincts intact. Even though the ship disappeared within an hour after Nikolai thought he saw it, his survival instincts were still there. He began to formulate a plan to get back to civilization by boarding the ship when it returned.
Nikolai reasoned that someone with his skin coloring, that of a light-complected Caucasian, would be most comfortable when the sun was not in full force. He used one of the lean-to’s and slept during the day. When the sun went down, he would gather fruits and berries, ones he knew were not poisonous, and consumed enough to sustain him for the next day.
Even though he was an expert marksman with a rifle, Nikolai found fishing with the sharpened stick he found on the beach to be problematic. The water distorted the position of the fish. Even someone with 20/15 vision in both eyes couldn’t judge how the water distorted his view of the fish. Nikolai wasn’t a good fisherman. This kept him from consuming protein, something he needed to sustain his weight and muscle mass. He also couldn’t throw with his dominant hand, due to a motorcycle accident he had in his late teens that ruined his right shoulder.
Fruit has a tendency to cause a person's gastrointestinal tract distress if not combined with some sort of solid protein. Nikolai could feel his ribs when he put his hands around his upper body. He could see his emaciated reflection in the water when he attempted to fish. He needed solid protein, but wasn’t able to acquire it with his hunting or fishing skills. He tried to throw rocks and hit birds to consume, but his right shoulder had been wrecked by a motorcycle accident in his youth. That’s why he shot from his left shoulder. He could not, however, throw accurately with his left hand. This left him at a disadvantage when he tried to throw rocks at birds to supply him with protein.
Nikolai decided he would limit his consumption of the poppy seeds. Maybe that would keep him from losing much more weight, he reasoned. He didn’t enjoy living the life he was living, but he couldn’t bring himself to give up and overconsume the poppy seeds. Not yet. Not while there was the hope of turning to his former way of life.
Being alone didn’t bother Nikolai. Since he needed to live his life “off of the grid” due to his job description, he had little contact with other people. He didn’t miss human contact, but he did miss the nice things that being paid for his exploits as one of the two best snipers in the world afforded him: Cognac before retiring, the finest Colombian beef money could buy, and an occasional Cuban cigar. It was a good life for the mercenary.
Swimming to the boat would not be a problem, Nikolai reasoned. He had won an Olympic gold medal in his youth as a long-distance swimmer. Even so, he practiced swimming daily to keep his muscles limber and his respiratory system in shape. He would swim to the boat when it returned, he thought, and return to his former life.
There was only one problem with this thinking. He was one of the two best snipers in the world. He had competition. He must, he decided, return to civilization and acquire a weapon. A .270 rifle was his preference. It was powerful, but the bullet was light, so he wouldn’t need to adjust much for the distance the bullet needed to travel.. Because he was experienced with this weapon, he knew just how much to adjust per yard for a shot of up to 800 meters. It was important to remember this, because he wanted to eliminate his competition. Then he would be the number one ranked sniper in the world.
He would return to civilization, eliminate his competition, and enjoy the lifestyle to which he was accustomed. The only thing he needed to accomplish his mission was transportation. For this reason, Nikolai Bolshov studied the western horizon day after day, night after night, waiting for his opportunity to return to his former life.
Comments