instincts vs cleaver

I leaned against the wall, dazed, panting, and gasped, in my deepest and most gravelly voice, “No one can chain the Hulk!”
I heard a stir of cloth in the darkness then, a slight grunt of effort, the faintest whistle in the air. I can’t claim credit for being smart or cool on this one. Some instinct pegged which way the cleaver was coming and I flung my head sharply to one side. Sparks flew as the cleaver struck the wall where my skull had been and sank into it as if it had been made of rotten pine, not stone. It stayed there, making a faint vibrating sound as it quivered.
I have got to learn to keep my freaking mouth shut. I clenched my teeth together and stayed still, giving no indication of where I might be in the darkness.


Cold Days Chapter 32, Page 317