Before I had a chance to open my truck door, a force coming from behind me grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around. My left hand lurched for my weapon, but the person got to it before I did. They tossed it into the dust just as they landed a powerful blow to my jaw. I was slammed into the side of my truck, half dazed. Another punch directed at my stomach almost brought me to my knees. I quickly realized whoever was hitting me was using brass nuckles.

I took inventory. My gun was out of my reach, and but I could safely say that I was the only one without immediate access to a weapon. My 22 magnum was hidden at the back of my waistband, loaded and ready. But would I have time to reach it before I was shot...or worse?

As I was hit yet again in the diaphragm, I knew that gun was my only hope. It was too dark to try to fight; I would have to rely on sound to determine where to strike, while my attacker could step behind me and slip a noose around my neck, choking me to death in a matter of seconds. Or stick a knife through my heart. That was not an option.

If I was killed tonight, how many more lives would be lost?

I reached slowly, deliberately, behind my back and felt...