Page 22 of Collapse

“I am going to kill them for this,” I said, not breaking eye contact. I knew he didn’t like it. Didn’t have to see the sadness in his eyes to know that. Didn’t need any judgment. They were going to pay for this. Andrea had done nothing to deserve this.Nothing.“Well?” I prompted.

He opened his mouth to speak as a crash of something breaking interrupted us from above. We heard scuffling and muffled shouts as something else was smashed to pieces up there.

“Fucking Larkin,” I said and ran past Hansen toward the stairs. I heard him follow me as I ran up the steps three at a time before heading out and around the house to find an open front door. The agent must have ventured inside to make an arrest. I ran in through a small hallway where I had to jump over the kidnappers’ luggage to get to a small den straight ahead.

What I saw in there made me halt my steps. Unfortunately, it was too late. The big-ass bald guy from the farm shoved Larkin so hard he crashed into a cabinet full of china, everything crashing on to the floor with him. The bald man instantly turned at my arrival and swung a hand toward me. He managed to grab me by the scruff of my jacket and fling me to the side. Luckily, I crashed into an old orange couch. I heard more noises behind me and turned to see Hansen land a punch into the big man’s gut, but he only got a worse one in return. He staggered backward a few steps before drawing his gun. This time, I figured it was a good idea. I did not want to get too near this guy and with good reason. He was big, strong, and fast. If you counted his ability, it took a lot to hurt him. The bruised nose in his small yet flabby face had only been given to him because I had found a weapon that worked against him. As I looked around the room, though, I sadly saw no quarterstaff substitutes.

“Stop,” Hansen yelled at the bald man, who laughed in response. Quick as a damn hummingbird, he raised his hand and sent the little lightning bolts toward the detective. They hit his arm, making him lose his grip on the gun. I stared in disbelief. Had he not learned from the last time they met? He actually still thought he’d been tasered?

I didn’t think any more of it. I grabbed the nearest thing, which turned out to be a nice flowery guest book, and hurled it at the kidnapper. It distracted him enough for Hansen to attack, gun forgotten on the floor. At least he didn’t waste time on it. Instead, he jumped up via the coffee table, grabbed hold of the man’s head and neck, and shoved his knee into the big guy’s chest. Not something I’d seen him do before. He was rewarded with another electric charge, this time in his leg. It knocked him back, falling halfway on the coffee table before rolling onto the floor.

The bald guy turned toward me and smiled. A leering smile. Threatening in every way. Yeah, I remembered him smacking my ass with the broken rake. One thing I knew, this was not the guy that had killed Andrea. He would have done other things to her given the chance. As he stepped to get around the table and toward me, Hansen’s hand shot out and grabbed his ankle. It didn’t help.

I braced myself. Grabbed a candlestick and saw a shadow pop up behind the giant.

A shot reverberated through the little room.

For a moment, I didn’t think it would deter him.

Then the bald man coughed, and drops of blood came out of his mouth and decorated his chin. His white sweater seemed untouched. The giant looked at me with confusion first, like this wasn’t happening to him. Then he seemed to decide that it was, before turning to face Larkin.

A large red and glistening patch of blood ran down the bald man’s back, the wound a little dark opening at the top of this mess.

It did not hinder him. He stalked toward Larkin, whose eyes widened in surprise as he fired again, straight into the man’s chest. It stopped him short a moment as he bent a little and grunted in pain.

Then he walked on.

Larkin shot a third bullet into the guy and he kept coming. Blind fury and a storm of adrenaline steering him now. I realized I still had the candlestick in my hand. I leapt forward and hurled the thing at the bald head, as the kidnapper grabbed a stunned Larkin by the throat and pushed him against the wall. The china broke under their shoes as they moved. The candlestick might as well have been a dandle-lion seed hitting the kidnapper. I ran toward them as he grabbed Larkin’s gun, turned it toward him, and fired it. The shock in the agent’s eyes as he realized the pain was his own, was the last I saw of him alive as the bald man shot his hand out and flicked me away like he was swatting a fly. I fell back on a small yellow couch next to them and then rolled to the floor, landing on Hansen’s legs. He’d been trying to get up, and this did not help. I tried getting up fast, didn’t dare to not have my eyes on the bald man. Could smell burning fabric and saw the five small burn marks on Hansen’s jeans, just below his right knee. The same kind of marks he had on the left side of his torso.

I turned around in time to see the top of Larkin’s head vanish behind the yellow couch as he slid down the wall. The bald man turned toward us with the gun still in hand and smiled. This time the smile was void of anything. It was simply there. He sneered and looked down himself. His sweater only white on the sleeves. Two wounds bled profusely from his chest. Only now did it seem to dawn on him what had happened to him.

The gun fell to the floor, a clackity sound as it landed. The kidnapper looked down at us as if we had any solutions where we lay on the floor. Then he went down on his knees, before he fell forward. His left side hit the coffee table and whipped it up, sending outdated magazines flying over him in a final salute.

There was silence. A moment of disbelief and realization.

“You okay?” Hansen asked me, while still wincing from his own pain.

“Takes more than a giant hitting me to hurt me, Detective.” I got up on my knees, straightening my back. I couldn’t see anything but Larkin’s legs protruding from behind the yellow couch, but the amount of blood seeping around the broken china on the floor by his legs told me what I needed to know.

The bastard had saved our lives.

“Larkin’s dead,” I simply said and stood up.

“What?” Hansen scrambled to his feet, the electric attack making him a bit unsteady. He looked down at the slumped form of Agent Larkin. Unlike Andrea, his eyes were closed. The detective’s glance moved to the bald man. I could see him shake his head in disbelief.

“The man shot lightning from his hands,” he muttered.

“Some people can charge electric currents like that. I thought you knew,” I added and touched his left side. Then I remembered his view on that and let go.

“Five marks,” Hansen said, too overwhelmed to notice my mistake. He kept staring at the dead kidnapper. Then his head snapped around, facing me. “The third guy.”

“Damn it.” I looked down at Larkin but didn’t have the time to sift through all the blood and broken china to find his gun. I headed back to the orange couch where I’d seen another candlestick standing by the wall. About twenty inches long and made of tin. It would have to do. “Best to head outside and lie in wait. He can’t be far.”

I saw Hansen nod his agreement before bending to pick up his gun. When I saw his face freeze by something out in the hallway, I knew we were too late. The third kidnapper must have run like hell back to the house when he discovered his friend’s broken neck down near the beach.

The smart thing to do would be for the man to turn and run. The only running he did, though, was toward the den. I heard his footsteps come closer, trying to distract Hansen from reaching his weapon and firing it. I took three steps to the door, and when I heard the guy leap over the luggage like we had, I swung the candlestick into the body that came racing through the doorway. I heard him cry out in pain, but he didn’t stop. His body wrenched the candlestick out of my hands making it go with him as he rammed into Hansen. I only slowed the guy down enough for them to fall right where Hansen stood. The bald guy’s blood lay in a dark pool mere inches away from their heads.

The kidnapper was better prepared for it all. A forceful punch to Hansen’s side made him cry out in pain. It was where everyone seemed to hit him these days. I ran forward and kicked the man, missing his ribs as he moved, and hitting his hip instead. It sent him shoulder first into the yellow couch where he turned quickly, dark eyes fastened on me. His face looked like a red and blue abstract painting from the last time he’d bumped into Hansen. The guy’s hand went to his back, and before I could do anything he pulled out a gun and pointed it at me.

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