A Barlow Lens (9 page)

They both jumped when the door to the gym rattled and someone banged on it. Tom saw a chain had been pulled through the door handles and fastened together with a heavy lock.

Tom held out his hand and marched forward, grabbing at the keys and snapping out, “Christ, are you insane? This is a school, you ass! Give me those keys!”

Archie came at him and grabbed Tom's arm, and something sharp was shoved into his side.

He carries a shiv.

“Come on, you're getting me out,” Archie growled.

Tom had no other option but to comply; Archie was far stronger. As he was dragged along, Tom managed a glance over his shoulder. The little girl turned and ran from a doorway farther along the hall. He tried yanking free. “I'm doing no such thing, those people, those children will die!”

“I ain't no child killer, and the cops will break them loose,” Archie growled. “They'll be down here in no time.
Move
!”

Tom opened his mouth to argue but swallowed his words when gunfire erupted from somewhere close. The sound of men shouting and the pounding of the door all blended together. Archie jerked again on Tom and pressed the end of the shiv with more pressure against his ribs. Tom had no choice but to be dragged along to who knew what fate.

 

Cleveland, Ohio—Present Day

 

W
YATT
KNEW
exactly what Kevin's strategy was; he'd used it on occasion himself. Unfortunately he didn't have the time to explain the technicalities to Val, who was reacting in precisely the way Kevin intended.

The back passenger window shattered all over the backseat. A second later the larger back window was in pieces. First Val tried shoving Wyatt out of his door, then tried pulling him across the seat and out of the passenger door.

The car sank lower and dipped to one side. Wyatt didn't have to see Kevin's actions to be able to tell tires were being slashed as Kevin moved around the vehicle. A thud and loud clang clued Wyatt into the fact that the exhaust pipe had possibly been smashed or pinched closed. They might not die trying to drive away, but there was no way to be sure without getting out of the car and looking.

Wyatt drew Val in tighter and said, “Stay
still
.
Stay still
. He wants us out of the car. A few more seconds, Val, trust me.”

Val nodded. He had his good hand wadded into a tight fist in Wyatt's shirtsleeve. He was pale, trembling, and wore an expression of utter confusion, but did as Wyatt asked.

People tended to panic when trapped in a car that was under such an attack. Outside the car Kevin kept moving, smashing the windows and shouting at Wyatt to get out and face him. He was counting on the loud, explosive noise of breaking glass to heighten their fear and create a flight response. If Val and Wyatt tried to escape the car now, Kevin's tire iron would be waiting.

When Kevin moved around to the driver's side, Wyatt lunged across the seat, shoved Val's door open, and pushed him out. Then he twisted around and kicked his door open, hoping it was timed right and that he moved fast and hard enough. The harsh grunt and thud from Kevin told him his move was right on the mark.

Wyatt tumbled out of the car, landing on all fours. He would only have a few seconds before Kevin recovered.

He heard Val scrambling to his feet, boots crunching on the gravel. “What the hell are you doing!”

Wyatt wasn't exactly sure if Val was yelling at him or Kevin. He didn't take the time to figure it out either. He got his feet underneath him and charged. Kevin had dropped the tire iron, but it wasn't so far out of reach that a short roll to the side and he'd have it again. If he got ahold of that damn thing again, Wyatt was in real trouble.

Kevin twisted onto his stomach and kicked his legs at the same time, extending one arm, fingers brushing the tire iron but not grasping it. Wyatt darted in and landed two fast, quick punches to the back of Kevin's head and neck. He didn't care if the blows rendered Kevin unconscious or killed him.

Kevin shouted and threw himself onto his back, abandoning the tire iron. He reached under his jacket. Wyatt tried to kick his hand and cause Kevin to drop the weapon he now had.

The move didn't work.

“
Shit
,” Wyatt hissed as a flash of light from Kevin's hands preceded a lightning bolt rampaging through him, and he dropped like a stone to the ground.

 

 

W
YATT
DIDN
'
T
know how long he stared at the ceiling of the storage unit before he realized he was awake. Or more to the fact, he'd come to. He eased up on one elbow, not even trying to stifle his groan. No matter what body part he tried to move, his muscles were stiff and sluggish. When he convinced them to take action, they complained and ached.

He forced himself to sit up. He was on hard, cold concrete. Wyatt squinted in the dim light and gingerly turned his head, looking around.

“Val.” Wyatt exhaled and inched over the few feet of cement separating them. “Christ, you're too still.” He pulled himself to Val's side.

He pressed one hand to Val's chest and let out a long, loud sigh of relief. Val's chest rose and fell in a stable rhythm, and his heart was beating, strong and steady. He was sprawled flat on his back. A large purple and red bruise covered one cheek.

Wyatt pulled himself closer and brushed Val's hair away from his face. “This is my fault. I'm so sorry.”

Even though Val was younger than Kevin, quick and agile, the fact remained he was no match for a man well trained in hand-to-hand combat. Kevin had come prepared for Wyatt to escape the car. The tire iron was likely as much for the glass of the windows as it was to use on Wyatt if needed. The Taser was no doubt Kevin's insurance to make sure he took Wyatt down. They had trained together for years. A fist fight between Kevin and Wyatt was a fairly even contest. Kevin was too smart to trust that he'd be victorious and had taken into account Wyatt's extra incentive in protecting Val.

He gently patted Val's cheek. “Val, come on. Wake up.”

Val groaned softly but didn't open his eyes. Wyatt straightened and pulled himself up on one of the benches until he was standing. He took a minute to straighten and flex first his arms, then his legs before rolling his shoulders and tilting his head side to side in an effort to loosen joints and muscles. This was a common aftereffect of a Taser shot, and he had to regain his ability to move freely and do it fast. Their lives would certainly depend upon it, since he thought it was doubtful Kevin had locked them up and left the facility.

Leaning heavily against the bench, he looked around. There was no inner lighting, the doors were shut, yet there was light from somewhere. He followed the meager beam to the source a few feet away. Sitting on end was a yellow flashlight with a wide, black base. Wyatt leaned down and picked it up. He recognized it as a type Kevin had often kept in his car. The battery was low and the light dying. He waved it around the space, taking a few ginger steps before changing direction and swinging the beam behind him. There was enough illumination for Wyatt to see he and Val were alone.

Wyatt twisted his torso and repeated his flexing and extending exercises of a few minutes ago. Hopefully between that and the effects of adrenaline, he'd be able to move and fight efficiently if the need arose. Val groaned again, louder this time. When Wyatt turned back to look at him, he saw Val lift one hand sluggishly to his forehead. He wasted no time getting back to Val's side, setting the flashlight on the floor beside him.

“God, Val, this is all my fault. I'm sorry. So sorry,” Wyatt said. He knelt and slipped one arm under Val's shoulders, then helped him to sit up.

“What are you…? How is…? Sorry for what?” Val rubbed his head and looked around. “We're inside the storage unit.”

“I lost my temper and threatened Kevin.”

Val squinted at him and quirked an eyebrow. “Didn't I tell you I thought that was hot?”

Wyatt grabbed Val around the waist and hoisted him to his feet. “We gotta get outta here before he comes back. What do you remember?”

“Uh, he shot you with a Taser. I guess that's what it was. You looked like you were having a seizure.” Val's face paled, and his voice trembled.

“I think technically that's what was happening.” Wyatt gave Val a squeeze and tried to laugh a little, but it came out weak.

“I jumped Kevin from behind, which I found out too late was a
bad
idea. He's like some ninja sumo wrestler. You guys are fuckin' scary sometimes,” Val said.

“You actually jumped on his back?” Wyatt asked. When Val nodded, Wyatt continued, “Don't ever do that. You really just give your opponent the upper hand.”

“Thanks, now you tell me. He had the advantage all right. I can kick ass virtually, but in real life, not so much.”

Wyatt rubbed one hand over Val's hair and pressed his lips to Val's forehead. “You do perfectly.” They leaned on one another and crossed the few feet to the smaller of the two doors. Wyatt tried the handle, but it wouldn't budge. “Jammed or locked from the outside somehow. Let's try the bay door, though I suppose that's locked as well.” He tried to open the bigger door, but it was indeed locked. “Got your phone?” Wyatt let go of Val and patted himself down. “Mine is gone.”

Val leaned against the small section of wall between the two doors and searched his pockets. He shook his head. “No.”

“Well, it was a long shot he'd leave us with a way to call for help.” Wyatt turned and took another look around the unit. “There was a tool chest here. Kevin probably took that, too.” He noted the fire extinguisher he'd seen earlier had been removed from its holder. A shiver worked its way down his spine, and an urgent need to get out tickled at the base of his skull.

“No, I bet he never saw it. I kept tripping over it, so I shoved it back there.” Val pointed to a spot near the far end of the room.

Wyatt grabbed Val's face with both hands and gave him a wet, sloppy, noisy kiss. “I
love
you. You're a natural at this!” He headed to the spot Val pointed to.

“I'm really not,” Val muttered. “Your phone is right here.”

Val stopped next to some boxes that were stacked about hip high. He held Wyatt's phone up for him to see. Something cold and raw swept through Wyatt's gut and made his breath catch in his throat. The shiver and desperate desire to escape now threatened to overshadow Wyatt's ability to think clearly. He shoved speculation and conjecture about why his phone was there away.

Don't panic.

He recited rule number one and focused on the problem at hand as he'd been trained to do many years ago.

“Val, where is that tool box?” It was an effort for Wyatt to keep his voice even and calm. Kevin wouldn't forget the phone or overlook it. It had been left for a reason.

Val pointed to one of the benches. “Under that.” His thumb poised over the phone's screen. “At least we can call—”

A call came in, and Val stared at the phone in his hand, eyebrows going up. “Unavailable.”

Wyatt bent and retrieved the tool box and hurried back to Val, holding his hand out for the phone. He answered. “Kevin, what are you doing?”

The laugh that came through the phone chilled Wyatt's blood. “It's going to be a joy to finally watch you and that crap fry.”

Something in one of the stacks of boxes popped. Val spun toward the noise. A second bang followed from the opposite side of the unit.

Wyatt disconnected the phone, yanked the back off, and pulled out the battery. He shoved all the pieces into his pocket.

“I smell smoke,” Val said. As if on cue, twin pillars of smoke, one from each side of the unit, began billowing toward the ceiling. “Oh, crap.”

“Yeah.” Wyatt grabbed Val's hand and hustled him to the door.

There was a sickening whoosh and flames ignited, winding their way up and through the boxes almost immediately. Heat rose and boiled through the confined space. The contents of the storage unit were old, dried out, and made excellent fuel for fire. Something among the crates banged, burst, and sparks, paper, and debris flew in all directions.

“Get the hinges off the door.” Wyatt dropped the box, opened it, and started throwing tools to the floor.

“The fire extinguisher won't help us.” Val's voice rose to a higher pitch than normal. “It's gone.”

Flames leapt around the small space, smoke filling the gaps between the miniature fires popping up everywhere. Val pulled his jacket off and began beating at the sparks and flames closing in on them with one hand. He used his other arm to cover his face.

Wyatt grabbed a hammer and heavy screwdriver and pounded on the bottom hinge. His eyes watered, and his movements heightened the coughing and hacking that wracked his body.

The temperature inside the unit became nearly unbearable in seconds. Val dropped to his knees next to Wyatt, wheezing in breaths and coughing out. The hinge popped out. He took the screwdriver to the door handle, driving it through the lock with the hammer.

“Move over.” Wyatt pointed to the bay door and, at the same time, shoved Val a foot farther away.

“What are you—?” The rest of Val's words were drowned out by the crash of Wyatt's foot low on the door.

He kicked again, then backed up and rammed the door using his shoulder. It didn't break free, but it did push away from the frame enough for them to get through.

“Val, listen.” Wyatt grabbed Val's shoulders and pulled him up. “Kevin is out there. The sick fuck is watching. We can trap him. You up for that?”