He heard a scream from the last place he had seen Tina. Not a scream of pain or fear - rather a primal yell of violence and aggression. Knowing Sang was for the moment the lesser physical threat he lunged his body in her general direction, eyes still not accustomed to the all-encompassing blackness.
In Vegas, you could read a book in most places without the lights on, the neon of the strip practically bright enough to see from space. Up here in the mountains, no lights meant no light. Total and complete, black as pitch, see no hand in front of your face darkness.
He heard rustling and grunting and a pain-filled "oof" as he stumbled his way over to his wife who was now apparently wrestling with her captor. He swung his arms wildly in the air, expecting to meet the form of Number One Goon, finding only empty space. As his foot connected with a form on the ground he realized that its solid mass was that of the thug, curled up on the ground, knees hugged to his chest.
Warrick reared a booted foot back and launched his foot, aiming for the game winning field goal. Foot connected with what could only be the man's rock hard skull, maybe the jaw, thank God for steel-toed boots, and the figure groaned and laid back, no further sound coming from him.
The next contact he felt was the warm soft flesh of his wife, her head buried into his armpit, as she trembled and shivered. He wrapped an arm around her and held her tight for a moment.
That was when the lights came back on.
Sang could have fled. He could have been out the door and hiding in a myriad of places or headed for the garage. Next stop McCarran Airport, flying to some exotic locale where he most likely had another of these godforsaken places set up.
Instead, the man who taunted and derided Warrick for the emotional weaknesses he perceived was overcome by the fatal flaw that had been the downfall of men throughout history. Hubris.
Sang stood frozen with anger, denial having wrapped its tentacles around his heart and mind as he stared at the computer screen. With the return of the power the screen now showed the laughing face of Kenny Longman, a shit-eating grin on his face and one well gnawed on finger thrust forward in the sign that every culture in the world would recognize.
Warrick took several long strides across the room and grabbed up The Voice by his bathrobe, shoving his face in mere inches away as his eyes shone with adrenaline and fury.
"Not so much the Big Man now, are you? Huh? All your precious information, all your blackmail material… it's all fucked! You underestimated the 'little thief' didn't ya? And you underestimated me and my partner! Look at you! Just a scared little man in his bathrobe and slippers. Where's your video? Where's your connections? Who has the power now, you sick son of a bitch!"
Spittle covered Sang's face as he struggled in the enraged CSI's grasp, but Warrick's fingers only tightened in the folds of silken fabric. He was just winding up.
"I oughta strap you to a chair and stick needles in your flesh and see what kinda shit you give up!"
A warm hand on his shoulder brought him back down a notch and he looked down to see Tina's anxious tear-stained face staring at him. She pulled gently on his arm, trying to pull him away. "There are more of them, Warrick. C'mon. Let's go."
When he failed to relinquish his grip she spoke more forcefully. "C'mon, Rick. I want to leave here. Now!"
Warrick nodded slowly in understanding. "Sorry, Babe. It's just …"
"I know. C'mon." She waited, hand on his arm until he pulled his hands free and shoved Sang backwards away from him.
"We can't leave him here. He'll call in the troops." He looked around the room, then his eyes lit up with their own sadistic glee as they alighted on the expensive silk robe Sang wore. Warrick reached out and ripped the belt off the man, then gestured at him towards the chair, not trusting the release the use of his voice would give him.
Sang shook his head, the remnants of the former pride still shining in his cold dark eyes as he fixed a baleful glare at his former victim.
"This is not defeat. This is a battle lost, but the war will continue, Mr. Brown. I will rally my troops, and I will rebuild my network, and there will be a reckoning, of this I guarantee. It is precisely when a force has fallen into harm's way that is capable of striking a blow for victory."
Warrick shook his head, staring down at the small man standing in front of him, fists clenched in impotent rage, shaking with anger. Powerless.
"You really are the Wizard of Oz, you sick little man. Hiding behind your curtain of two-bit hoods and ill-gotten information. You're nothing now. The curtain is gone. And you stand there shaking in your slippers. I pity you. You're nothin' but a paper tiger. Now get in that chair!"
When he saw the Asian make no move towards the chair he grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and propelled him towards the desk. As Sang caught the computer screen and Kenny's face still leering at him he averted his gaze and began mumbling in Chinese.
His body unceremoniously shoved down into the computer chair, Sang sat quietly as Warrick tied the man's hands behind the chair. He eyed the now slightly struggling man and weighed his options. His choice became clear as Sang looked up, triumph reflected in his ice-cold eyes.
"Mr. Longman left your friend to die, Mr. Brown. In the foolish phone call he made he told my associate that Mr. Stokes had stopped breathing. I'm quite surprised he lasted as long as he did. It would appear that he was the stronger one. I hope your decision weighs well with you, Mr. Brown. You gave up your friend's life to secure that of your wife and Mr. Longman. In battle, a general must face the sacrifice of some for the good of the war. Tell that to Mr. Stokes' family!"
Warrick's chest heaved in anger and guilt, recognizing the possible - no probable- truth to those words. Anger simmered and reached its boiling point, released by the rearing back of his fist as he slammed it home in Sang's face. Along with the fist he spat furious words, words he'd heard a hundred times from his Grams and at church. And in time-honored tradition, as he took out the Big Bad he hurled a one-liner at him.
"You like the quoting so much? How about Pride goeth before a fall!"
Fist met jaw and Sang whirled around in the computer chair, his chin now resting on his chest, dead to the world.
Warrick massaged his sore knuckles and winced at the new pain in his already blown shoulder. "Some Old Testament on your ass," he mumbled at the man.
Tina gave him a small sad smile, then pulled him towards the door.
Once outside they hit the garage, finding two more Cherokees and several import sedans. After squeezing the remote he'd found earlier he saw the taillights flash on one of the SUVs and he and Tina crawled in tiredly.
The garage opener in its usual place on the visor, a quick push of the button and the nighttime sky appeared behind the ascending door. He revved the engine up and threw it into reverse, peeling out of the garage and hitting the gravel road.
Adrenaline still hummed throughout his exhausted body, and he turned the heat on in the truck as soon as it had warmed up, both he and Tina shivering in the brisk January night, his exacerbated by the sheen of sweat covering his body. His shirtfront was soaked and he pulled the cold fabric away from his chest.
He glanced over at Tina where she huddled in the passenger seat. He snuck a hand off the wheel and placed it on her arm, her hand finding his as he gave it an earnest squeeze.
"Is Nick really…dead, Warrick?" she asked, tears welling in her eyes in sorrow for her husband.
"I don't know, Babe. Last I saw him he was in rough shape. And Kenny left him…"
"Who's Kenny?"
He sighed and shook his head. So much to tell her… "Kenny's an old friend. And, honestly, the reason behind all of…this." Words couldn't even begin to encompass what had happened.
"I promise, I'll tell you everything…everything about what happened and why. Are you all right? Did any of his men touch you?" He realized with horror it was the first he had asked after her well being since their flight from the house.
She shook her head. "I got a call from someone at work, asking me to come in to cover a shift. I knew you were on so I figured I'd pick up the over time." Her voice began to shake as she told him what happened.
"I was, um, getting ready to go, had my keys in my hand…Oh, Warrick- they took the Sebring!"
Warrick squeezed her hand again in sympathy. The convertible was his wife's baby. "Don't worry, Babe. That's what we have insurance for. G'on."
He wanted to look at her as she spoke but the road was treacherous and he didn't want to miss the turnoff to the cabin.
Tina cleared her throat and began again, holding on to his hand tighter as she continued her tale. "I was about to leave, my hand on the door when these men showed up. At first they tried to tell me they were bill collectors, but when I asked to see their ID they got all nervous. I shut the door and turned the lock but they broke through and grabbed me and threw me into a their car. One of them grabbed my keys and took my car behind us."
Her voice grew more tremulous as she tried to maintain her composure. "They put something over my eyes, and what felt like hours later they stopped the car and brought me into this room. I've been there ever since until the man came and brought me to where you were. Who was that man, Rick? Why would he do this?"
I promise, Tina. I'll tell you everything. But I need you to help me right now. I left Nick and Kenny in a hunting cabin off this road. Now, I need to keep an eye on the road. You've gotta help me keep an eye out for the trail that leads to it. I'm sorry, Babe. I know you deserve better than this but Nick… Oh, god, Tina- he's so bad off. We need to get back there."
Tina sat forward, her years as an ER nurse making her response automatic. "What's wrong with him?"
"He got bit by a scorpion -" He saw her mouth gape open out of the corner of his eye and shook his head angrily. "Don't ask. We've been keeping him alive with epi-pens and cold pills but he's doin' real bad, Tina. Real bad."
"How many pens?" she asked, her brow wrinkling in concern.
"Two so far when I left. He probably had to use the third while I was gone."
"Oh, Rick…that many pens… what kind of cold pills? Yours? Did they have an antihistamine in them?"
"Yeah. A little. Just over the counter crap. Nothin' like he needs, I know. That's why…Oh, shit."
"What?"
"Lights. Up ahead. I saw headlights flash through the trees further up the road. Looks like we got company. Headed straight for us."
Nick glued his eyes shut in concentration and shoved backwards with all of his might, pushing off of the countertop with his hands. Both their screams mingled together and Nick managed to spin around as the woman regained her balance. She swung at him with the blade in wild anger. Nick snagged her swinging hand with his uninjured right one and then slammed his knee upwards into her belly.
Nick heard her loud exhale as she lost her breath and bent over stunned. He never let go of her hand, keeping the weapon away from him as he brought his knee into her stomach two more times. Feeling the momentum shift and his breathing all the while getting worse, he used his remaining power to grab a hold of the back of her neck and slung her face down, slamming her into his kneecap, blood spurting out of her nose from the impact.
The switchblade tumbled out her grasp to the floor as Nick stayed hunched over, staggering away from the doctor. His mind screamed at him to find the knife, but he had other worries. His breath hitched in his throat, raspy struggles for oxygen fighting his constricted airway. If he had a mirror, his reflection would show his strangled red face as he clawed at his throat.
The fire from the cot now spread along the old wooden floor and began to rip over the ceiling and wall facing the way to the stream. Not only was his body breaking down as it struggled for air, the source of the vital oxygen was becoming tainted with choking carbon monoxide and fumes from the flames. He patted down his jeans for his last epi-pen, fingers searching the depths of his pockets. He had barely pulled it out when someone tackled him from behind, knocking him down, the precious pen clattering to the floor.
He felt a hard jab to his kidneys from an elbow, but the pain was nothing like his fight for air. He was like a wild animal, his fist connecting with the side of his attacker's face as he swung away in desperation. Nick was on his hands and knees, terrible hacks and noises escaping his closed up throat. Madame Chu scrambled for the epi-pen, snatching it away just inches from his fingers. He was seeing stars and had nothing left to lose but lunge at the woman who held on to his salvation.
Nick slammed his shoulder along her small frame, knocking her from her crouched position smack flat on her back to the floor. He wrestled her for the epi-shot, but his arms and hands were no longer working quite right. His coordination was off, the outlines of his vision turning dark gray around the edges. Soon he was hunched over, the fight for the medication over. He lacked the energy to move or get up from the floor. He pulled at his shirt collar with shaky hands. Then he felt the woman sneak up behind him and strong arms wrapped around his own, keeping them pinned in place.
Madame Chu held Nick from behind, her hot breath at the nape of his neck as she whispered into his ear. "There, there, Darling. Not much longer now."
The sociopathic woman cradled him with all the false platitudes of a comforter, rocking him back and forth from behind. He saw the epi-pen in her right hand, keeping it in plain sight for him to observe, while she kept his arms immobile.
Chu planted slow, vile kisses along his sweat-drenched neck and shoulder. "So rare that I get to watch the life slip away from someone."
Nick felt anger swell from the pit of his belly as he tried to dislodge the woman, whose grip tightened around him. He groaned as he inched his right hand between his belly and her imprisoning arm. He turned his hand just enough to squeeze her left one, purposely pressing down on the area of her chopped off pinky. She screamed, dropping the badly needed medication. Nick foolishly thought the Chu would attend to her injury, instead of focusing the anger back at him.
As soon as he leaned forward to scoop up the lost epi-pen with a violently trembling right hand, he felt the woman's arm snake around his throat, as her other bleeding hand wrapped strongly over his head in the opposite direction.
"You're going to fucking die now."
Nick knew she was going to twist and break his neck when he heard the sound of metal on bone. Instead of snapping his vertebrae, Chu staggered to the left. Nick could not see or think straight. But he distinctly heard Kenny Longman's voice through the buzzing in his head.
"Take that, Bitch!"
Nick was too out of it notice the pack rat holding on to the black skillet, nor the room fill with dark smoke.
"Come on, Dawg. This place is all on fire! I could barely get in the door."
Nick tried to unwrap the shot with quivering hands, unaware of his enemy crawling away. Kenny was yelling at him to get up and leave when he heard a primal banshee-like scream that hurt his ears. What he didn't comprehend was Chu launching herself at Kenny and knocking him down. Blade in hand she sliced the small man's shoulder sending blood streaming down his body. Kenny didn't have time to get another swing with the heavy cooking pan as she assailed the little geek with unmitigated fury.
Kenny tried to dodge her deadly strike, screaming as the blade sliced down his arm. Chu was backing the pack rat into a corner, the knife swinging in wild arcs as her blinding anger made her miss the next few times. Nick got the plastic tip off the pen, his thumb on the pressure trigger. All he needed to do was thrust it into his thigh and the relief would allow his lungs to expand. Somewhat dazed, he watched as Kenny unsuccessfully blocked the now deranged woman's' attacks. It was unlikely Kenny had the ability to stop her, and Nick was fading faster than a severed artery.
With what felt like only seconds of air still in his lungs he stumbled forward towards the fight before him. Chu turned to see his uncontrolled gait towards her and smiled, blood running down her face from
the fight. She took her blade and aimed it at Kenny's neck.
Nick made a snap and natural decision and barreled into her. He slammed the epi-pen into her chest, pressing the trigger, straight into her heart. Nick watched in morbid fascination as her eyes dilated unbelievably wide, her hands clutching at her breast where the pen stuck out like a dagger. She croaked out unintelligible words as she stumbled around until she fell. Her body twitched and Nick collapsed to the ground next to her.
Kenny held his hand to the cuts on his arm, but was relieved to find them not very deep, just scary looking. He twisted his head to see how the fire now blocked the path to the front door, the room filling with acid- like smoke. He stared down at Nick, not knowing if the guy was dead or not. He bent down to slap the CSI's face, muttering to himself.
"Why'd you do that, Dawg? Why?" He shook Nick by the shoulders, his high-pitched tone like nails on a chalkboard. He panicked, trying to rouse the CSI awake.
"No, don't do this, Man! Don't fucking do this to me!"
Kenny saw two hazy, unfocused eyes open up at him in confusion. Noting the fire heading their way, Kenny pulled Nick up, barely getting him to his feet as he practically dragged the man into the other smaller room. He closed the door, both of them collapsing to the floor. Nick lay on his back, his working right hand grasping at his throat. His mouth hung open, the shrill noises from the depths of his chest unlike anything Kenny had ever heard.
The small man stared at the door knowing he might be able to run fast enough past the flames at the entrance into the chilly air. His hand reached the doorknob, his escape plan routed in his head, as he crashed through the door, head looking back at the ill man's last gasps for breath. Changing his mind about bailing, he grit his teeth as he searched for something. Kenny kept low to the ground and sought out what he needed from the tiny end table near the far corner.
The cabin was now a boiler room. Just a scarce time ago it had been like an icebox, but now the fire had crossed his path, the orange and yellow flames like ballet dancers leaping along the dry cabin floor. Kenny snatched the inhaler and scrambled back into the tiny bedroom. He slammed the door closed and squatted down at Nick's side. The suffering man's eyes were darting wildly back and forth and Kenny knew there was no way Nick could suck in the mist needed to give him any sort of help. Nick's hands lay limp along his sides, unable to move anymore. Knowing it was almost futile and stupid, Kenny grabbed the CSI's slack jaw and squeezed his mouth open.
His face a mask of ill ease, he stuck the inhaler in and pressed down on the trigger sending the medication into the other man's lungs. Kenny heard the last of the mist fade away and dropped the container. He crouched over the ailing man shaking his shoulders.
"Don't die on me, Dawg! Please, don't die, Nick!"
tbc...