by J. T. Bishop
Hannah, whose presence had not been acknowledged until that point, stood uncertainly in place. In front of her stood two very intimidating men, who, by all accounts, would kill her the minute she followed Sarah’s direction.
Sarah sensed her indecisiveness. “It’s okay,” she said. “You won’t be harmed.”
The men, however, no longer looked so amused. “If she moves,” said the apparent leader, “she dies.”
Ramsey shared Hannah’s anxiety as he watched the showdown unfold in front of him. Both X and Z stood in certain disbelief and then anger as Sarah boldly and confidently confronted them. He didn’t know what to expect either. The woman standing behind him holding her own, who was almost kidnapped by an elderly man less than seventy-two hours ago, now apparently felt she could face down two threatening and malevolent intruders. He prayed she knew what she was doing, but he was relieved that she had not left with them. Now he waited to see if Hannah trusted Sarah enough to move toward the bedroom. And more importantly, he waited to see what would happen if she did. He glanced over at Declan, who looked back at him, likely wondering the same things as Ramsey.
The taut energy filled the room as everyone waited on Hannah’s decision. Apparently deciding it was now or never, Hannah followed Sarah’s lead. She took a tentative step away and moved out from behind Sarah.
“Be careful, Hannah,” said X. “You were warned.”
“So were you,” replied Sarah. Her gaze never wavered from X or Z. “Go, Hannah.”
Choosing to push through her fear and trusting Sarah, Hannah moved fast. She stepped into the living room, walked unobstructed past Ramsey and Declan, and disappeared into the darkness of the back hallway and bedroom.
As Hannah moved toward the opposite side of the house, the rush of energy that flooded the room took Ramsey by surprise. It was as if a pulsing force field had entered the area and surrounded Hannah. Ramsey watched X and Z as Hannah headed without incident to her destination. Their faces transformed from contempt, to anger, to confusion, to disbelief, and finally to rage as they realized that whatever techniques they were trying to lash out at her had failed.
Sarah recognized it too, but she remained unfazed. Hannah now safely away, she directed her attention toward Declan.
“Let go of him,” Sarah told X.
X and Z, still believing they could win this battle, refused to back down. X faced Declan. He held him painfully in an invisible grip, and immediately projected a devastating blow toward the man, but it never reached Declan. Instead, Declan released a lungful of held air and fell out of the chair onto his hands and knees. Finally liberated from the strangling grip and searing heat on his midsection, Declan took deep breaths. The sweat from his brow dripped onto the carpet as he collected himself.
Ramsey watched in amazement as the events unfolded. Unbelievably, Sarah had the upper hand. He moved closer to Declan to check on him. His stepbrother was unsteady and shaky, but did not appear to be seriously injured.
X and Z stood in the room, looking on at the two brothers on the floor. The unexpected turn of events and the reversal of power had them mystified. Whatever current abilities they wielded were apparently no match for Sarah’s new ones. Z’s rage built as he watched all their plans collapse. He looked over at his brother and communicated silently with him, and they both nodded. With a quick smile of understanding shared between the two, X and then Z turned toward Sarah.
“Now,” X said, and both brothers rushed at her.
“No…” Ramsey lurched forward to stop their advance as he felt their collective energy gather to make a final assault. Declan reached out and grabbed him, though, pulling him back as another wave, just as big as the one created by the brothers, was projected from Sarah. The brothers’ advance halted as unseen energetic forces lifted them from the floor and threw them violently against the bricked wall above the fireplace. Chairs, tables, and anything else unattached and in the force’s path flew with them and scattered across the room. They remained suspended there for several seconds until the forces released and they fell limply to the floor, no longer conscious.
Ramsey stared in shock as he saw the bodies lie unmoving amidst the rest of the debris from the room. He turned back toward Sarah, who still stood near the hallway. She stared off as if in a trance. Then she took a deep breath, shook herself, and looked around the room. Her wet clothes had completely dried, as had her hair. Her eyes fell on Ramsey and Declan, who was still on the floor recovering from the assault. She walked over to them and kneeled beside them.
“You okay?” She looked at Ramsey but then focused her attention on Declan, who still showed the lingering effects of X’s attack. She put her hand on his back.
Ramsey was speechless. It was a rare occurrence for him.
Declan grimaced as his belly flared with the remnants of heat.
“Relax,” she told him. She moved her hand and placed it on his stomach.
The discomfort caused Declan to suck in his breath, and he grunted with pain as she touched him and his midsection churned. But as Sarah’s hand remained on him, he began to feel relief, his body cooling as the pain dissipated. Within a minute, it had completely disappeared.
She removed her hand. “Feel better?” she asked.
Declan sighed in relief as he sat back on his heels. “Much. Thank you.”
Ramsey finally found his tongue. “Looks like we’re going to have to call you Wonder Woman.”
She rewarded him with a shy smile. “Wonder Woman?” she asked. “Hardly. But I’ve always been a fan.”
“I think you’ve joined her tribe. When are you going to invite me to your private island?’
Her smile grew, and Ramsey noticed how great she looked, crazy hair, red skin, and all. “I can’t,” she said, playing along. “Its location is a secret.”
Enjoying the banter, Ramsey continued. “Forget the island, then. I’d love to see the outfit, though.”
Even with her reddened skin, she seemed to blush. She looked shyly at him. “Maybe once this is over, I’ll see what I can do.”
Ramsey was speechless again. He was beginning to appreciate some of the qualities this Shift was bringing out in Sarah. She had not been flirtatious with him before, but she was now. He flirted back. “I’ll hold you to that.”
She appeared to hesitate, but not for long. “I’m hoping you do,” she responded in kind. She was still kneeling on the floor next to Ramsey as Declan observed the exchange between the two of them. She stood then, breaking the moment with Ramsey and returning to business.
Declan looked at Ramsey. “That was sweet.”
Ramsey shot Declan a warning look. “Shut up or I’ll send a whole new type of heat into your gut.”
Ramsey helped Declan up as they both stood with Sarah and surveyed the room. It was a mess. The only furniture still in its original place was the heavy sofa; everything else was toppled or broken. The two men lying in front of the fireplace held their attention, as well as the pair of legs protruding from behind the couch.
As if reading their thoughts, Declan referred to the legs and their owner. “The third guy appears to be Sarah’s bad guy from earlier. He fits the description.”
Sarah remained quiet and didn’t respond to the fact that her attempted kidnapper now lay dead on the floor. “Declan, check on those two,” she said, referring to X and Z. “I think one of them is dead. Keep an eye on the other one.” She then turned her focus to the back bedrooms and became serious.
“Ramsey, come with me. Hurry.” She headed to the back, with Ramsey right behind her. He knew by the tone of her voice that something was wrong. He immediately sensed what it was. Leroy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
* * *
AS THEY CAME into the bedroom, Ramsey saw the blood first. Leroy lay on the bed, semi-conscious with Hannah kneeling over him, using a large towel to apply pressure to a wound on his stomach. The towel was soaked with blood.
“I need help in here,” said Hannah, frantic
ally.
“Oh, my God,” said Ramsey, approaching the bed. “Leroy?” All flirtation forgotten, he gaped at his friend, who was lying on the bed in obvious pain, sweat dripping down his face as his bloody hands tried to grip his wounded belly.
“Sherlock?” Leroy whispered, his eyes fluttering open. “Sorry. Guess I got myself in a mess, huh?”
“Don’t talk, Leroy,” said Hannah. “Conserve your strength.” She looked at Ramsey. “Ramsey, go get my bag.”
Not hearing Hannah, Ramsey stood like a stone, still trying to grasp the seriousness of Leroy’s imperiled state, as Declan entered the room.
“Z is dead. X is still alive. We better…” He took in the scene in front of him. “Oh, God.”
Ramsey finally moved, rushing to the side of the bed and watching his friend flinch in terrible pain. He took in his friend’s injuries, and knew what it meant. Leroy could not be saved. Even if they were able to get him medical attention, without the serum, the injury would be too grave. He recalled Hannah’s words. If you’re seriously hurt, it will be much harder for you to recover, if you recover at all. The realization devastated him. He was going to lose his best friend.
He sat next to Leroy and found his hand. The blood squished between his fingers. Ramsey tried to keep his emotions at bay for Leroy’s sake. “I’m right here, Leroy. Take it easy.”
Leroy attempted to slow his breaths, but they came too quickly. Ramsey sat closer and, seeing Leroy’s agony, grabbed the pillow on the other side of the bed, removed the pillowcase, threw the pillow down, and began to wipe the sweat from Leroy’s face. “Shhh. Easy,” he said.
“My bag. Somebody get my bag!” Hannah tried to stay calm, but she knew what Leroy’s chances were, just as Ramsey did.
Desperate to help, Declan ran out of the room, eager to retrieve her supplies if there was a chance they could help.
Hannah continued to hold pressure on Leroy’s wound, but the blood flowed out from beneath her fingers. She watched Ramsey wipe Leroy’s face and brow. “Hang in there, Leroy,” she said.
Leroy’s flicked his eyes toward hers. His breathing became more labored as his strength waned. “Forget the bag, Hannah,” he said. “There’s nothing you can do for me.”
“You let me be the judge of that,” she answered.
“Unless you’ve got a surgeon or some serum you’ve been hiding from us in that supply of yours, there’s no point in treating me.” He coughed and winced.
She watched him struggle, but the nurse in her would not back down. “Don’t tell me how to do my job. Now be quiet. Save your strength.”
Leroy closed his eyes as he rode another wave of pain.
“Leroy, you with me?” asked Ramsey, knowing the time remaining with his friend was dwindling.
Leroy opened his eyes. “Still here.” He kept his eyes on Ramsey, trying to stay focused. “Sherlock…listen.”
Ramsey knew what Leroy wanted to say. “Just be quiet, Leroy. Don’t talk.”
Just then, Declan ran back into the room with Hannah’s medical bag. “Here,” he said, breathless. “What do you need me to do?”
“Open the bag,” said Hannah, breathless herself. “Pull everything out. Let me see what I have.”
Walking to the side of the bed, Declan opened it and began to dump the contents next to Leroy, near Hannah.
“Take his pulse.”
Declan moved up and grabbed Leroy’s wrist just above where his brother was clasping Leroy’s hand. He held up his own wrist to look at his watch. After ten seconds, he let go of Leroy. “One twenty and rapid.”
“Can you take a blood pressure?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Do it.”
Declan grabbed the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope from the bed and wrapped the cuff around Leroy’s arm, above his elbow. He put the stethoscope around his neck and fit it into his ears. He grabbed the bulb hanging from the cuff and began to pump it, tightening the cuff around Leroy’s arm. Once it was tight enough, he released the pressure and watched the gauge attached to the cuff jump as he listened to Leroy’s heartbeat. After watching for several seconds, he completely released the pressure on the cuff, and the air whooshed out. He turned to Hannah somberly. “It’s eighty over…”
“Watch out!”
He barely heard Hannah’s scream in time to duck as he caught sight of a heavy metal object swing past where his head had just been located. He immediately swiveled and turned his body to avoid the unforeseen attack.
“Son of a…” he shouted just as the fireplace poker, with a bloodied X swinging it, hit the carpet next to him. Recovering quickly from the unexpected attack, Declan took advantage of X’s lack of balance and lunged at him, knocking him into the wall and nightstand next to the bed. The lamp toppled over and fell to the ground. Due to X’s injuries, Declan had the advantage of strength. With one hand, he grabbed the arm carrying the poker, and with the other, he grabbed X by the neck.
X instinctively grabbed at his throat to give his airway some freedom, but when that failed, he removed his hand and pushed it into Declan’s stomach. Still capable of summoning a decent amount of energy, and with Declan still sensitive from the earlier assault, X was able to push outward. As the returning pain lanced through him, Declan unavoidably lessened his hold on X’s neck, and his balance wavered. Taking advantage of the balance shift, X shoved forward with his body weight, pushing Declan backward with newfound momentum.
Both men, entangled and grunting from exertion, moved across the carpet and away from the bed. The caseless pillow, discarded by Ramsey moments before, caught in Declan’s feet, and it tripped him. Momentum—Declan’s backward and X’s forward—carried them both toward the ground as Declan fell to the floor. Before falling on top of Declan, X managed to gather enough strength to pull up as Declan continued to fall. Their sweat made their palms slick, and Declan’s grasp on X’s arm slipped when he hit the ground on his back. X wasted no time as he raised the poker to strike and kill the man in front of him.
“You killed my brother,” he spat.
At that moment, Ramsey counterattacked. In the seconds before, when X had rushed in and he and Declan had knocked into the nightstand, Ramsey had started to jump in when his eye caught a bright reflection emanating from the floor. He recognized the object as a shard of glass, which must have been knocked off the nightstand. It was long and wickedly sharp, much like the shards of mirror from the master bathroom. Wrapped around it was a thick sock, which would enable a person to hold the shard without injury. He deduced that Hannah must have carried it as a weapon when she left the bathroom with Sarah.
Now, as Declan and X continued to fight, he grasped it. As Declan fell backward and X swung the poker, Ramsey stood abruptly behind X and, without hesitating, shoved the shard straight into X’s upper back.
He leaned into X from behind and spat into his ear. “That’s for Leroy.”
X lurched backward in agony, dropping the poker, and clawed with his hands to reach the instrument burning its path into his body.
Jumping up, Declan grabbed X by his shirt. Realizing that X was no longer a threat, he lowered him slowly to the ground, the long shard still in place.
Racked with pain but still eager to do damage, X didn’t stop his threats, even as he lay dying. “This isn’t over.” His voice labored. “All of you are dead.” He spun his eyes wildly around the room as he lay on his side and gradually lost strength. His gaze caught Ramsey’s. “Your stupid friend is going to die.” He cackled as if he’d lost his last measure of sanity. “And you,” he said, looking at Sarah, who watched everything from across the room on the opposite side of the bed. “Soon you’ll understand what’s in store for you.”
His breathing turned rapid and shallow and he visibly deteriorated. Unwilling to die quietly, he fought to stay conscious. Inevitably, though, his body stilled and his eyelids drifted shut, only to flutter open.
With one last burst of strength, he spoke again. “And when the
time’s right,” he said, still addressing Sarah in an angry whisper, “Y will come for you.” He expelled the last remaining breath from his lungs, and the life left his eyes.
Still breathing hard, Declan put his fingers on his neck and held them there. “He’s dead.”
“Good riddance, asshole.” said Ramsey, who stood rigidly over X before turning back to Leroy, who fought to stay conscious. Ramsey sat back down on the bed carefully, feeling his rage toward X give way to agony over Leroy.
“Nice follow-through,” said Leroy, attempting to smile.
Ramsey took his hand again and squeezed. “You taught me everything I know.”
Leroy tried to laugh, but he grimaced instead.
Never wavering from her place over Leroy, Hannah continued to put pressure on the wound. “Ramsey,” she said with quiet resignation.
Ramsey heard her but said nothing. He could not acknowledge Leroy’s impending death. Declan listened and watched with despair.
“Ramsey…” Hannah continued.
“No, Hannah,” Ramsey said. “He’s not dead yet. Maybe—”
“There’s nothing I can do. He’s too far gone.”
“Can I help?” Declan moved toward the bed. “Tell me what to do.”
“Nothing. It’s not enough. He can’t recover from this.” Hannah’s traumatized eyes conveyed the truth to Declan, and he remained where he was standing.
Ramsey continued to sit with Leroy. He picked up the empty pillowcase again and wiped the sweat from Leroy’s brow and face with his free hand. It shook as he held the fabric.
“Sherlock, listen to me,” said Leroy.
Ramsey wasn’t ready to listen and tried to stop him. “Leroy, don’t you give me this talk right now. I don’t want to hear it.” Emotion welled up in him as the impossibility of the moment seized him. Ramsey grasped his friend’s hand harder as tears sprang to his eyes. He forced himself to look at Leroy and struggled to cope with what he knew would be their last minutes together.
