CHAPTER 14- NO MERCY
The Network's 'purpose-built facility' proved to be a single storey, flat-roofed concrete building constructed in a clearing just below the treeline on the remote north side of Haven Peak, pretty much exactly as Tyler had described.
Frank and Joe crouched low in the scrub at the edge of the clearing. The boys had crawled their way around the building, under cover of the trees, to assess its security. Two guards were posted at what appeared to be the only door. There was no track leading to it. They surmised it was ordinarily accessed by helicopter, the roof doubling as a landing pad.
The brothers sat and watched, facing the entrance and the guards, waiting for the right opportunity. After a short time, one of the guards disappeared inside the building. This was it! Frank signalled to Joe, then ran around the back of the building. Joe waited a minute, then picked up a stone and threw it at the far corner of the building. The guard jumped, suddenly alert, and walked cautiously towards the corner.
Joe held his breath as the man approached the edge of the building, then smiled grimly as he was felled by Frank, who was hiding round the corner. Checking quickly that the second guard hadn't re-appeared, Joe sprinted over to Frank. The brothers secured the man with flexicuffs and dragged him away from the building, secreting him under some bushes.
Frank picked up the fallen hood's gun. He turned and looked carefully at Joe, then gripped the weapon by its muzzle and held it out to his brother. Joe stared at him, eyes plainly conveying his question- Are you sure? Frank nodded, pressing it into Joe's hand.
Joe nodded at Frank, gave him a quick smile, then ran towards the door. He stopped just past it, taking up a position flat against the wall. Frank followed him, standing against the nearside of the door. They held their breath and waited. After a minute, Guard no.2 emerged, head down, still zipping up his fly. Too easy! Joe smacked the back of his head with his gun, then the brothers dragged him off between them. He received the same treatment as Guard no.1.
The boys exchanged a determined glance. Weapons drawn, they marched side by side into the facility.
….
Frank and Joe worked methodically around the building, checking every room as they went for people, useful weapons and the jamming equipment. Office…lab…kitchen- nothing out of the ordinary.
Then Frank pushed open a heavy door and was assaulted by a familiar stench. 'Joe!' he hissed. 'We've got bodies.' Joe walked up beside him, then pushed past him, hand against his nose.
A row of bodies lay on the floor, each covered with a white blanket. Joe lifted the first. Then looked away for a second, grimacing. 'We meet again, Isobel. What's left of you.' He said sadly.
Deputy Fraser lay under the next blanket. Joe went no further. He'd got the idea. 'I guess this is the 'morgue in Seattle', huh! The autopsy reports were nothing but works of fiction! The bastards were just piling the bodies up here! Wonder why they killed Fraser?'
Frank shook his head. 'Maybe he'd had enough, like Buick. He seemed pretty nervous, poor kid.'
Frank bent down, looking at Isobel's hand. It had a needle mark on the back, same as Joe's had. 'So much for no needle marks on any of the other bodies. So much for anything we were told!'
Joe looked down at the Isobel Walker's remains, sadness in his eyes. 'There was me blaming myself for not saving her. I never had a chance, did I? She never had a chance.'
Frank patted his brother's shoulder. 'Come on, Joe. We don't need to think about this now. Let's move on, stay focused.'
Joe nodded, following Frank out of the room. He shut the door firmly behind him.
Frank took a deep breath and opened the next door. He inhaled sharply. This room was different again. Its function was obvious. At the centre of it was a plastic-covered reclining chair, bolted to the ground. It was fitted with arm and leg restraints. Monitors surrounded the chair, along with a stand for an intravenous drip.
Frank looked around, absorbing what he saw, heart beating in his mouth. He turned to his brother and placed a hand on his arm. 'Do you remember…..' his soft voice tailed off as he watched Joe.
Joe took in the chair, the restraints, knowing he had been there, tortured in the name of some sub-section of his own government. Horrific memories swirled round his sub-conscious, just beyond his reach. He looked up at the ceiling, suddenly knowing there was a small stain above them. An irrelevant mark he had tried to focus on in a desperate attempt to escape the pain. He found it. His breathing quickened, sweat dripping down his face.
Frank followed his gaze, and knew his brother was starting to recall what had happened here.
Joe staggered as a wave of dizziness and nausea hit him, followed rapidly by sheer panic. 'I've got to get out of here, Frank. Get me out of here.'
Without hesitation, Frank put his arm around Joe's broad shoulders and led him out into the fresh air and sunlight. 'Sit' he instructed. 'Give yourself a minute.'
Joe sat, arms folded across bent knees. He rested his forehead on his arms and breathed deeply, trying to regain control. Frank crouched beside him, one hand on his back, the other still gripping his gun. His eyes scanned the forest.
Joe swore under his breath. 'Sorry.'
Frank patted his back gently, fantasising about knocking White's teeth out. 'You're being too hard on yourself again. I take it you remember being here now?'
'Just flashes. Not good things. Nothing useful. Come on. We need to find that equipment.' He lifted his head, revealing renewed determination on his face. Frank helped him to his feet.
They hit the jackpot in the next room. Frank recognised the equipment for what it was straight away. 'This is it. Right. Chances are when we switch this off, they're gonna notice! They'll know where we are and come running.'
'Perfect. Save me having to hunt that bastard White down. You know how to do it?'
Frank nodded. 'Think so.' He flicked a few switches, then pulled out his cellphone. 'Bingo!'
Joe beamed. 'Yes! I'll keep watch at the door. You phone Dad!'
Frank was already dialling. He closed his eyes, praying. And his prayers were answered! Their father picked up on the second ring.
'Dad….!' Frank managed to get out, before Fenton Hardy launched into a tirade. 'Frank! What the hell have you two been playing at? I've been trying to get you for days! I'm back- I'm on my way to join you. Thank goodness Agent White was in contact with me so I knew everything was alright. You've got a lot of explaining to…'
Frank cut him off. 'DAD, stop, listen. We're in trouble. White is trying to kill us. Some sub-group of the Network owns Haven Falls and just about everyone in it. They've been experimenting on people with a mind control drugs. They brought us here as test subjects. They. Are. Trying. To kill us. The Network and the police. Dad, we need back up now.'
There was a shocked silence. 'Where are you?' Fenton Hardy managed to say.
'I don't have a grid reference, dad, they've been blocking everything- GPS, internet, phone. We're in the woods in a Network compound maybe 20 miles north of Haven Falls, just north of the summit of Haven Peak. We've switched off the jamming equipment. What we can see of it anyway. But now they're gonna know we're alive and where we are. They're going to be hunting us down now, Dad.'
'Are you both okay? Have they hurt you?'
'We're okay just now,' said Frank evasively. 'Dad, please be careful. Don't trust anyone here. Or anyone in the Network.'
Frank suddenly heard the noise of an approaching helicopter. 'Dad, they're here. I have to go.' He hung up, not waiting for a response, just as Joe came running through to get him.
'Did you hear…?' Joe started. Frank nodded. Joe grinned again. 'Know what I'm thinking?'
'How about we try to steal us a helicopter?' Frank ventured.
A broad grin appeared on Joe's face. 'Great minds think alike, Frank.'
Frank considered it for a moment, then shook his head slowly. 'Let's go for it. At least if we go out…..'
'We go out fighting.' Joe finished for him. He put out his hand 'Let's do it'. Frank grasped Joe's hand, smiling grimly.
…
Frank peered through the vent in the locker. The brothers had located the room where the access to the roof was- a sparsely furnished office with a narrow flight of metal stairs leading to a hatch in the ceiling- and hidden themselves in it. Their aim- get between the bad guys and their chopper. Claim the machine as their own!
The hatch opened, a shaft of light appearing in the dark room. The beam of a torch appeared first, its light glinting off the muzzle of the gun held beside it. The beam worked its way around the room gradually. Frank ducked back from the vent, turning his eyes away.
'Looks okay' whispered a low voice. The room flooded with light. Three sets of legs descended the ladder, one after another, each clad in black. Frank pressed his face back to the vent. Three men in black. But their faces were unmasked. Sheriff Patrick, Danny Byers. And White! The man himself. Frank felt his hackles go up.
The three figures, Berettas in front of them, looked around the room carefully. Byers stuck his head into a small bathroom in the corner, then came out shrugging his shoulders. Patrick's gaze rested on the lockers in the corner of the room and Frank held his breath. White went to the door into the corridor and tried it. 'Still locked. They've not been in here.' He said in a low voice. Frank smiled smugly. His brother was damn good with locks.
White had a set of keys in his hand. He unlocked the door and crept out along the corridor, Byers and Patrick at his heels. Patrick pulled the door to behind him, leaving it ajar by about an inch.
Frank waited a minute. Then he heard banging noises from further along the corridor- the men were tearing the place apart, searching for the brothers. He opened his locker door cautiously. He looked round and saw Joe doing the same beside him. The brothers exchanged a nod. Joe walked over to the door, meaning to lock it again to slow the men down.
But the door flew open in his face, knocking him into the wall, hard! He fell to the ground, winded. Frank ducked down behind a table, fast!
Patrick strode in, gun drawn. He'd been hiding behind the door. He pointed the gun at Joe's head before the younger man could gather his wits, pulling Joe's gun from his hand. 'I knew there was someone in here. Our test subject. Perfect! I'm not going to kill you. But I'm going to hurt you….'
He moved his gun, aiming at Joe's knee.
Frank's lip twisted in fury. He fired his gun without hesitation, all too aware it would draw the other men back to the room. Patrick smacked against the wall, hard, then slumped to the ground beside Joe. He was unconscious, bleeding from a wound in his shoulder.
Joe shook himself and got up, reclaiming his weapon and taking cover behind the table with Frank. 'That went well' he observed dryly.
At that moment White appeared at the door of the room.
Joe took a shot at him, but he ducked back around the door frame. 'Cover me, Frank,' he whispered. Joe wasn't prepared to hang about. This was his chance to get the man who had drawn them into this mess. Staying low, he walked quietly around the edge of the room towards the door. The muzzle of White's pistol emerged around the corner of the door. Frank shot at it repeatedly. It withdrew.
Then Joe was by the door. He rolled through it, fast and low. White, unprepared for the low level assault, took a moment to alter his aim. It was long enough. Joe took his shot and White fell to the ground, clutching his arm and screaming. 'Frank' Joe shouted. 'Tie him up- I'm going after Byers.'
Frank ran out to White and rolled him roughly on to his side, looking anxiously after Joe. He pulled out the pack of flexicuffs and, forcing the man's arms behind his back, eliciting further satisfying screams, secured his wrists together tightly. He rolled him over to face the wall, not wanting to see his hated face for a second longer, then secured his ankles. He went back into the office and did the same with Patrick.
A flurry of gunfire came from the outside the front of the building. Frank jumped to his feet and ran to back up his brother. He froze at the door, hearing the approach of running footsteps. He dropped down on one knee, pointing his weapon at the door, finger poised on the trigger. A shadow crossed the open doorway. He closed one eye, squeezing the trigger slightly.
And then released his grip! 'Joe! Thank God! Did you get him?'
Joe nodded grimly. 'Dead. No choice.' Frank stared at him for a moment, then nodded. Two kills between them within hours. Not good. But they had their backs to the wall in a situation not of their making. They shouldn't feel bad. But he knew they would.
They hesitated for a second beside White. 'Should we take him with us? And Patrick? Get them to hospital?' said Joe. We are supposed to be the good guys after all.'
Frowning, Frank bent down beside the White. White's eyes flickered open. He smiled an unpleasant smile. 'Frank. Do you think he's escaped it?' he whispered in a harsh voice. White tried to turn his head towards Joe. 'The drug will always be in your system, Joe. We will always control you. We'll come for you, Joe. You will kill your brother.'
Joe's eyes widened, filling with doubt.
'Shut the hell up!' growled Frank. He drew back his fist and smashed it into White's mouth. There was a satisfying crunch and the man slumped, unconscious.
Then a gunshot echoed around the hall! Frank screamed and went down, grasping his leg! Blood sprayed as the bullet passed through Frank and struck White in the neck! Joe rolled and came up shooting in the direction the shot had come from- the hatch onto the roof! There was a satisfying squeal, and a gun dropped down onto the office floor.
Joe dropped down beside his brother. 'Frank! How bad?' he said, his voice tight.
Frank grunted, trying to control the waves of agony emanating from his thigh. 'Not good,' he hissed through gritted teeth.
Joe dragged him away from the open office door to give them some cover. With shaking hands, he tore Frank's trouser leg open. The bullet had passed through the side of his thigh. It looked like it had missed the bone. But it was bleeding. Way too much! 'Shit! It must have nicked an artery.' He exclaimed.
Joe tore off his belt, wrapping it around Frank's leg, just above the line of the entrance and exit wounds. He pulled it as tight as he could, using it as a tourniquet. Frank cried out in pain.
Joe winced, his heart twisting. 'Sorry, sorry Frank.' He looked at the damage again. The blood flow had reduced considerably. 'See, no problem, you'll be fine! I just need to get you to hospital for some replacement red stuff.' He tried to sound confident, tried to keep the fear out of his voice. He pulled off the officer's jacket he was wearing and tied it around the leg, over the top of the wounds. He grabbed Frank's hands and wrapped them around the jacket.
The younger man looked into his brother's dazed, pain-filled eyes. 'Keep the pressure on. Hard as you can.' He instructed. 'Lie there. Stay. I'll go clear our way to the chopper then come for you.'
Frank nodded. 'Watch your back, okay?' he managed to hiss.
Joe patted Frank's shoulder, then ran into to the office. He hesitated. He had no idea how many people could be on the roof. Thinking fast, he ran into the little bathroom, finding what he was looking for. There was a mirror screwed to the wall. He smashed it with his gun and selected with largest fragment, silently thinking he'd be pretty pleased to live long enough to experience his seven years of bad luck.
He climbed the stairs carefully, gun out in front of him, noting the blood splattered on the steps. He realised with some satisfaction that he must have caused some damage to the hand that had pulled that trigger.
He carefully extended the chunk of mirror out of the hatch, angled so he could see out onto the roof. He moved it around 360 degrees.
He could only see a single figure, a man on his knees near the helicopter. He seemed to be nursing his hand. Joe squinted. He couldn't see a weapon.
Joe crept up through the hatch, gun in front of him. He approached the bent figure. The man looked up. It was Doc Mills.
'Don't shoot, please! I'm not armed! My hand. I need help!' Mills sobbed.
Joe shook his head, an angry snarl on his face. 'You just shot my brother! And you killed White- not that that's a great loss! Call yourself a doctor? You should be ashamed of yourself. Put your hands on your head, NOW.'
'I….is Frank okay? Let me help him!' Mills managed to look concerned.
Joe wasn't buying it. 'SHUT UP! Hands on your head!' He continued his approach, walking slowly, carefully, braced for any unexpected moves.
As Joe came almost close enough to reach out and touch the doctor, Mills' submissive demeanour suddenly changed. He smiled coldly. 'No, Joe. I'm in control here.' The way he spoke had changed in an instant. It was calm. Disconnected.
And the sound of his voice had an effect on Joe. It made him feel dizzy. His hair stood on end. His gun hand dropped! He shook his head, trying to clear it. 'What?' he breathed.
The cold smile was fixed. 'Neither of you are going anywhere. Joe….we met here before. Do you remember?' The doctor got to his feet and faced Joe, exuding arrogance.
'Stay back! I'll shoot!' Joe yelled, backing up a step.
'You won't shoot me. You can't. I control you Joe, I own you.' Mills shouted, his voice commanding.
'No!' screamed Joe. 'No you don't!' He tried to raise his gun again. His hand shook violently.
'Joe. Don't you know? I think you do. You know was me that made you scream in that chair. You'll feel that pain again if you try to fight me.'
Meanwhile, Frank Hardy, having listened in horror to the deteriorating situation between Doctor Mills and his brother, somehow managed to drag himself painfully up the steps, leaving a smeared trail of blood behind him.
With a last monumental effort, he hauled himself through the hatch onto the roof, hoping to draw his gun.
But the climb had taken too much out of him! It was all he could do to lie on his front, gripping onto the roof with his fingertips as his world spun precariously. He felt cold, numb, disconnected. He squeezed his eyes shut, channelling his energy. 'Joe! Don't listen to him! Just shoot him!' he yelled, his voice hoarse.
Mills whipped round, then relaxed when he saw Frank's condition. 'Big brother to the rescue! Good move! Glad you could join us. You must watch this…..' He turned back to the younger Hardy. 'Listen to me carefully, Joe…Clear!'
Joe's jaw dropped. Then, without warning, his vision tunnelled as excruciating pain tore through his body! He screamed, falling to the ground.
'JOE!' Frank yelled.
Mills spoke again, his voice cool and clear. 'Joe, I control you. Time to complete your mission.'
'Get the hell away from me' rasped Joe, spitting out blood.
Mills walked right up to him and stood over him, head to one side. 'Fascinating. How much pain will it take, Joe, before you let the drug take over again?'
Joe heard Frank's voice, as if from a great distance, shouting, 'Leave him alone, you bastard!'
'No.' replied Mills. 'He's mine…..Clear!'
Joe screamed again, his body seeming to go into spasm, back arching in the air. Mills kicked him mercilessly in the side while he suffered, the bruise showing instantly on his bare skin. Joe curled up, gagging. Somehow he managed to keep a grip on his gun.
Mills sneered at him, poking him with his foot. 'Did you really think you could get away? You are a very interesting subject. The first to manage to resist completing your task even after some very intensive conditioning. We need you. Need to find out what makes you tick.'
'Leave him alone! I'm going to kill you' yelled Frank.
Mills laughed, walking casually over to Frank. Mills pulled Frank onto his back and took his gun from his holster. Frank couldn't make his arms move, couldn't resist!
'How are you going to do that now, Frank?' growled Mills. 'Bleed on me?'
He bent down, putting Frank's own gun against his forehead. He smirked, enjoying the moment, drinking in the mixture of pain, anger and fear on the older Hardy's face. 'It's your day to die, Frank Hardy. One way or another….' he whispered.
'Who the hell are you, anyway?' Frank spat.
'Oh, I suppose I'm next generation of 'evil genius'. Poor old Tyler went soft years ago. Still intelligent, of course, but he's lost his edge.' A dreamy expression came over his visage. He smiled again at Frank, then raised the gun and stood up.
Mills turned and wandered casually back over to Joe, who was still curled up, gasping in pain. 'Now, Joe. The task, now! You'll be doing Frank a favour, putting him out of his misery.'
'Fuck you!' Joe spat.
Mills' jaw dropped in mock indignation. 'How rude! But you know if you don't do it, I'm going to. Probably not quite as…cleanly….as you might have done it yourself. But I'm willing to bet that you will do it, sooner or later. We underestimated you, I'm sorry to say. We should have worked with you for longer. But the drug is still in you. Always will be! I may give you a top-up.' He pulled a syringe from his pocket and looked at it thoughtfully. 'But, we'll try more pain first and see what happens. Experimentation- that's the name of the game, Joe! Now, are you ready to scream?' He bared his teeth in a ferocious sneer. 'Cle…'
'Nooooo!' screamed Joe. He uncurled, simultaneously raising his gun and squeezing the trigger. Joe's bullet hit Mills square on the forehead. The man collapsed to his knees, then flopped on to his back, stone dead, his final word never fully uttered.
Joe sagged against the concrete, shaking violently and fighting for breath, the remnants of the phantom electric shocks still coursing through him. He screwed his eyes shut. 'Shit, Frank. It's still in me. Shit!' His voice trembled, panic overtaking him. The possibility of being ruled by Tyler's drug and persecuted indefinitely by maniacs suddenly seemed inescapable. His fragile barriers progressively tumbled down. The horrors he had seen and endured over the last three days began to clamour relentlessly for attention, threatening to overwhelm him completely.
Frank was feeling vague, distant. He knew he'd lost a lot of blood. He was in trouble. But Joe needed his help. Whatever the hell Mills had done to him by saying that one, simple word had floored him. The torment in his brother's voice screamed to Frank. Joe was at the point of falling apart. Frank gritted his teeth, fighting to stay conscious. He wanted to crawl to his brother, to hold him and comfort him. He couldn't move.
He took some deep breaths, gathering his remaining energy. 'Maybe.' He called to Joe. 'But if it is in you, it's not controlling you. You killed him. He said you couldn't but you did.Come on, stay with me! Please! I need you!'
The desperation in his brother's voice pulled Joe back like nothing else could have. It came flooding back to him- Frank was injured. He had to get him to hospital, and fast! Joe forced himself up on to his knees, grimacing. He stood shakily and staggered to Frank.
Without a word, Joe hauled his brother to his feet and half-carried him to the helicopter, pushing him up inside it and strapping him in to the co-pilot's seat. He slammed the door shut and ran around the front of the chopper, then climbed in. He looked over at his big brother. Frank was sweating, his head lolling. His life depended on Joe keeping it together. Joe gritted his teeth in determination. He took a few deep breaths, forcibly distancing himself from his mental traumas, establishing a façade of concentration and control. Then he started up the helicopter, running through the checks he had to do and putting on his headphone set.
Frank looked over and managed to focus for a second on Joe. 'Hey…..when did you…..last fly a chopper anyway? That's….. more my….. thing.' He managed to say between pained gasps.
Joe replied without thinking, still concentrating on the aircraft's readings. 'Yeeeears ago. But I saw a re-run of Airwolf last week.'
'Good enough for me,' mumbled Frank, leaning back and shutting his eyes.
'Uh oh. We've not got a lot of fuel.' Joe murmured.
Frank said 'mmmmmm?' vaguely.
'Never mind, don't worry about a thing, big bro.' Joe patted his brother's shoulder. He thought quickly. If he radioed ahead for an ambulance, he could meet it on the interstate. It was crap but it was a plan.
Joe stuck his feet on the control pedals and grabbed the control sticks. He guided the helicopter expertly in to the air.
Joe adjusted his headphones and microphone, then hit the transmit button. 'This is…' he began, then paused to look around for the helicopter's callsign. He spotted it in front of his nose, taped to the top of the cyclic stick…. 'This is MX 51 flying out of Haven Peak. I have an emergency. Male with gunshot wound to leg on board and limited fuel. Request RV with paramedics on Highway 90 at Haven Falls turn-off. Over.'
'Received MX 51. Message conveyed. Paramedics and Sheriff's officers will be dispatched.'
Joe's heart jumped into his mouth. 'From MX 51. No requirement for the Sheriff's officers. Situation is under control. Requirement is just for paramedics.'
'To MX-51. That's a negative. Sheriff's officer attendance routine for gunshot wounds, over.'
'Shit, shit, shit, shit!' exclaimed Joe. At least the landslide meant it shouldn't be a Haven Falls car attending, but who knew how far White's influence extended.
His radio cracked into life again. 'MX 51, a message from MX 52. This is Agent Gray. We intercepted your message and will proceed to the RV point. Over.'
Suddenly Joe couldn't catch his breath. Sheriff's officers and Network Agents coming to the 'rescue'? And how did Gray get to the area so fast? He had to have been close already. Was he involved too?
He looked at the fuel gauge. How far could they get? Did he dare try to make it direct to a hospital? As if pre-empting his change of plan, the low fuel warning alarm started to go off. He had no choice! He was going to have to land!
Movement on the horizon caught Joe's eye. Helicopters. Three of them, coming from the east. As they came closer, he could make out their blue and white paint jobs, matching that of the machine he was flying. They were Network choppers. Joe bit his lip, trying to stay calm. He couldn't let them get caught again! He looked again at Frank, looked at the blood soaking through the jacket he'd tied around his brother's leg. He had to try to protect him, to get him to hospital before the blood loss became too much.
He could see the interstate ahead of him. His pulse raced, sweat dripped down his face. He made out flashing blue lights on the road. Two Sheriff's office cars had closed the route, leaving space between them for the choppers to land. An ambulance was pulling up behind one of the cars. Taking a deep breath, he started his descent, easing down towards the road, and coming in to land on the tarmac. His heart was hammering in his chest.
He looked at the Sheriff's office car ahead of him, the ambulance behind it. Maybe he could play it cool, get Frank into the ambulance, maybe they wouldn't try anything with the ambulance there. Or maybe the ambulance was part of White's world too... No, he couldn't think that. He shut down the helicopter.
Avoiding eye contact with everyone around him, Joe climbed out of the chopper and, bending to avoid the decelerating rotors, went round to Frank's side. He pulled Frank out of the aircraft, hauling him over his shoulders in a fireman's lift. Head down, but eyes looking everywhere, Joe carried Frank towards the ambulance.
He turned his head slightly as the first of three Network choppers came in to land behind him. He picked up his pace a little.
A Sheriff's officer up ahead of him moved a step closer, his hand on the gun in his belt. 'Son?' the man called. 'You want a hand?'
Joe shook his head and kept walking, adjusting his path slightly so he would avoid the approaching man.
Suspicions aroused by the bruised, blood-splattered, shirtless young man with the Beretta tucked in the waistband of his jeans, the officer stepped in front of Joe and drew his own gun.
Joe panicked completely! He stumbled back a few steps then, his exhausted body losing its co-ordination, tripped over his feet and landed on his backside. The Sheriff's officer took a step towards them. Joe let Frank's body slide onto the ground behind him. Forcing himself back to his feet, he pulled his weapon on the officer, standing between him and the prone form of his brother. 'Get away from him! Don't touch him!' he yelled, voice ragged.
'Officer, don't shoot!' commanded a voice from behind Joe. He swung round. It was Agent Gray! 'Joe, what's going on? Lower your weapon.' He was striding towards the brothers.
'Gray, stop. Get back!' yelled Joe. 'Why are you here? Where's our father?'
'He's coming. Come on Joe. You know me! Frank phoned and asked for help! Put the gun down before someone gets hurt.'
'You're not getting me again! No way! You're not getting Frank!' Joe heard his own voice. He sounded panicked and unstable.
Gray heard it too. He drew his gun, re-reading the situation. Two more Network Agents materialised, weapons drawn.
Joe clocked their move in horror, his fears seemingly confirmed. He and Frank were surrounded! There was nowhere to go! He turned one way then the other, gun swinging in his shaking hand, hyperventilating in panic, sweat streaking the dried blood on his face and dripping off his chin.
He had no idea who to trust.