Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I risk pushing the door further, half expecting the whole place to blow up. When nothing happens, I slip inside, silent as the grave. First thing I notice is a gray block of plastic explosive pressed into where the wall meets the floor. Good news is that it's stable stuff, and I have the detonator. The bad news is that there are more blocks after that one. They were fucking ready to launch this shelter to the moon.
That can be cleaned up later.
As my eyes adjust, I find the dogs crammed into cages. Crowded but fine. They watch me curiously, but when I move past they settle. Instead I follow the muffled sounds.
Fuck.
It’s Carl. Strapped to a chair, using dog leads for rope. Big strip of duct tape over his mouth and two smaller strips covering his eyes. There’s even a block of C4 molded to the seat right in front of the poor kid's crotch. If we’d let those guys catch us coming in, Carl would’ve been in so many little pieces.
Blinded, Carl only knows that someone’s moving around him, and his breathing goes hyperactive immediately.
"Easy, Carl. I'm a friend." I start by peeling off the tape over his eyes. The stare behind them is wild, and he doesn't look real good. "If I take the tape off your mouth, can you be quiet? We're gonna get you out of here."
For a moment longer, I'm not sure if I'm getting through to him, but then he nods. A soft mumble, and another nod.
"Good boy. Okay, this is gonna sting a little." I grip the edge of the tape and rip it off in one quick motion.
"Ow! Shit." He twitches like he wants to put a hand to his mouth, but he can't until I untie him.
"Easy. That was the rough bit." Not counting the fact that he's sitting on a chair packed with explosives. While I loosen the leads, I keep him engaged with questions. "You alright? Hurt anywhere?"
"No. I don't—I don't think so." He shakes his head, then swallows. "Jesus, they shot Travis in the face." He nods his head backwards and to the side, showing me the body.
Fuck, that's a shame. I would’ve made it more painful.
The last leash falls to the floor. "Alright, let's get you outta here. Don't look back, okay? We're just gonna walk through the next room and out the front door. Cool?"
He nods eagerly, not looking any more interested in looking behind him than I'm interested in him seeing it. Fuck, this kid's gonna need a shrink after this. His legs wobble as he gets up, but I keep him steady.
"You're gonna be okay. Is Sandra here?"
"No—no, they took her. In case you didn't take the bait, they didn't—fuck—they didn't want to lose their leverage. I don't know where they took her, though. They just decided that they didn't need me and figured the place was going to blow up anyway. At least from what I overheard." He's starting to ramble a little. "Oh God, they took her, and—Wait! There was another guy. Travis shot him I think."
“Shit. Where?”
Carl points to one of the kennels where the door is partly open. “There.”
“Okay, buddy. I’m going to go look. Just focus on breathing.” I’m imagining the worst, and I find it.
Spike is on the ground face down in a pool of his own blood. It looks like he got shot somewhere high in his shoulder or neck. In the right spot it’s easy to recover, half an inch in either direction though…
I put my hand on Spike’s neck looking for a pulse. He makes a weak, pained noise at my touch and a little bit of anxiety unspools. “Hey. Shitty day so far isn’t it? But you’re not dead yet, so things might still look up.” He either laughs, or is choking on his own blood. Could be both. “I’m gonna have to pick you up, man. Sorry if it hurts like a bitch but the whole place is rigged with C4 and that’s harder to heal than a bullet wound.”
There’s no response this time, but I can still feel his pulse so the kid’s got a chance. As carefully as I can, I swing him into a fireman’s carry and get back to Carl.
“Is he…?”
“Still breathing. For the moment at least. But you’re going to have to walk out on your own two feet. You good?”
Carl nods.
Together we reach the front door. I push it open and immediately Beast and Piston spin to face us, ready to draw. "Just me," I call out. "I’ve got Carl and Spike. The whole shelter is rigged with C4, but I got the detonator. Couple bodies in the back, two goons behind the shelter and Travis inside. They got Sandra."
Beast nods. "C4, huh? Not fucking around. Do we know who it is?"