Chapter 19
INDY
“You ruined everything!”
Mack’s fist glances off my chin, knocking my teeth together. The taste of warm copper fills my mouth. “I hate you!” he shouts. “I hate you!”
Before he can strike again, I dodge, and his blow whiffs past my ear. I snap my left hand out, palm first, aiming for what I think—I hope—is his neck.
Flesh connects with flesh.
Mack makes a strangled, gasping sound.
Despite the dire circumstances, my lips bare back in a satisfied smile.
His hot breath comes in quick bursts, clueing me in to his location.
With the flashlight somewhere behind me, its beam pointing in the opposite direction, the tunnel is nearly swallowed in darkness.
Though Mack is right in front of me, I can’t see him.
Can’t anticipate his moves. I don’t know where the syringe is, or the gun he had tucked in his waistband.
“Fuck you!” Mack snarls. “You fucking cripple! I hope you die down here!”
Maybe in the past, his words might have stung.
But now?
I’m glad I have my prosthetic. Because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to pop it off and slip out of my bindings. My hands would still be tied behind my back, which would have made this fight more difficult.
Not impossible; no.
I could still kick. Head-butt. Use the force of my body to knock Mack down.
But with my arms free…
One hand is all I need.
A soft rustle gives his next move away, and my fist snaps out again. Lower this time, aiming for his sternum. If I can hit him hard enough, it could be a killing blow. His heart could stop and this would all be over.
I hit him again, and he staggers back.
Feet scramble on loose rock.
Something heavy clunks against the tunnel wall.
Mack yelps.
“Give it up,” I snarl. “Or I will kill you.”
“No!” His voice pitches up to a whiny shout. “You have to die! Both of you!”
Following the sound of his voice, I lunge towards him.
Rocks slide beneath my feet, but years of training keep my balance steady.
I can hear Mack scrambling to get up, so I leap forward, snapping my leg out in a powerful front kick.
Once again, I hit flesh.
Mack howls.
Though I can’t be sure, I think I heard something crack.
“Give it up,” I repeat. My voice is deadly calm. “You can’t win. All you’ll end up doing is getting yourself killed.”
“No—” Mack sucks in a wheezing breath. “You have to die!”
Just as my fist is about to connect again, he throws himself to the side.
Shit.
If this were a normal fight, it would be long over. But in the near-pitch black, with my opponent armed with a gun and a syringe that’s possibly filled with a deadly poison, and me with only one hand to hit him with, things are more complicated.
Should I have told Bea to go for the flashlight instead?
Then a soft, telltale click reminds me I made the right decision.
“I’ll shoot!” Mack bleats. “I won’t miss from this close! And then I’ll find that bitch! And I’ll make her watch while you die!”
Rage heats to a white-hot fury.
“Don’t call her that,” I hiss. “And the only person dying today is you.”
“I’ll shoot—”
“And bring everything else down with it?”
Mack hesitates. “It won’t.”
It’s petulant. Almost childish. “They haven’t come down yet,” he says, more to himself than me. “They’ll be fine.”
I know he’s within arm’s reach. I can smell his stinking breath—old coffee and garlic and peanut butter. I can feel his presence, a skill picked up through years of practice.
But I don’t want him firing the gun. Not just because the sound could bring down the tunnels, contrary to what Mack’s trying to convince himself. But because there’s a chance he could hit me. It’s slim, but possible. And if he does, if I’m injured, where does that leave Bea?
I would give my life for hers in a second. But if I’m on the ground, bleeding out, dying, and Mack’s still alive, searching for her…
I need to be alive to save her.
Which means I can’t let him fire the gun.
“You don’t know that,” I say. “I read something online about two kids who thought it would be fun to do some target practice in one of these old mines. The second shot brought everything down on them. Their bodies still haven’t been retrieved.”
Lie. I’ve never heard of any such thing.
“You’re lying,” Mack replies weakly. “That’s not true.”
“Are you sure I’m lying?” I ask. “Do you want to risk your life on it? I don’t think you want to die down here. Do you?”
He goes quiet.
Then in that same odd tone he had when he talked about Mother, he says, “I’m not going to die. You are. You and that bitch.”
He moves again, stones and dirt rustling around him. “This is how it’s supposed to be. You and the bitch watching each other die down here. I’ll shoot you, and while you’re bleeding out, I’ll make her watch. Then she’ll be alone. Until she finally dies, too.”
“You’re not going to touch her. Ever again.”
“Yes. I will. I’ll hit her. Hurt her. Punish her like she deserves.”
Instinct demands I charge at him. Pummel him into unconsciousness. Leave him here to die, just as he wants to do to us.
But the gun.
“You’re a coward,” I say. As I talk, I shift to the side, taking slow, careful steps so he can’t hear me moving. “A damn coward. Hurting innocent women. Making your brother do your dirty work and leaving him to take all the blame.”
“They weren’t innocent! That woman was going to turn Manny in! That’s why I told him to kill her! To protect him!”
“You told him to kill Jenna?”
A silent beat. “Who?”
My molars grind nearly to dust. “Jenna. The woman Manny killed. Or did you do it and leave him to take the blame?”
Another beat.
I keep moving. Slowly. Cautiously. Trying to judge his distance from me by the sound of his voice.
“He called me in a panic because she saw him giving the shot to the traitor. She was going to turn him in. And she told that stupid bitch about it. So I told him what to do. Kill one of them. And frame the other for it. Then there’d be nothing to connect it to him. It should have worked.”
His voice keeps rising. “It should have worked! Me and Manny would be on to the third traitor by now! But you! You had to get involved! And the plan is fucked!”
Once I get past him, I move forward again. With my left hand out, I reach for the wall. When my hand hits stone, I know I’m in the position I want—to his left, flanking him, only a few feet away.
Close enough to knock him out with a blow to the head.
Close enough to hit him before he knows it’s coming.
Close enough to attack before he gets a shot off.
I just need the right opening.
“You have to be punished,” Mack continues. “It’s the only way. And here… it’s fitting. This is where Manny and I used to come. Not deep in the tunnels, of course. That would be dangerous. Don’t go in the tunnels, Mother used to tell us. It’s too dangerous. People die down there. And look.”
He laughs softly. “Now, people will die down here. You. And that deaf bitch.” His laugh turns into a malicious cackle. “That was a neat trick, wasn’t it? Hacking into her implants like that. The app on her phone gave me the idea. I hoped the threat would work.”
As much as I want to respond, I keep my mouth shut.
And I inch closer to his voice.
My left fist clenches.
My jaw sets.
“I bet she was scared,” he adds. “Hearing those sounds in her head. I wish I could have seen it.”
This fucker.
“Manny couldn’t have done it,” Mack explains. “He’s not good with computers, like me. Too smart for school, Mother used to say. It was better for me to stay home. School is full of government pawns. Indoctrinating the students.”
What?
“I’m tired of this.” Stones shift. “I don’t like it down here. It’s time for you to die. And then her.”
He’s moving.
It’s time.
All my anger coalesces into fiery determination.
He won’t hurt another person.
He won’t put his hands on Bea again.
This ends now.
A breeze of garlic and coffee wafts towards me.
He’s turning his head.
Which means—
Now.
I release my cocked arm and let my fist fly.
All the rage pent up inside me comes pouring out in one blow.
My fist slams into his nose. Cartilage cracks.
With one leg, I sweep out, catching his.
Mack screeches.
His blood coats my hand.
“No!” he shouts. “You have to die!”
A sixth sense tells me what he’s about to do before he does it.
I grab for him, catching what feels like his arm.
Then I slam him to the ground.
“NO!” Mack shrieks. “NO!”
And then.
Light glints off metal.
But it doesn’t make sense.
The flashlight—
Is in Bea’s hand.
A flickered glance shows her standing by the V in the tunnel, her face a pale moon in the darkness. She’s shaking so hard the flashlight is jumping. But it’s enough.
Enough to see the gun Mack’s holding.
Enough to yank it from his hand.
Mack howls, “NO!”
Something rumbles above us.
A thought flickers.
Kill him.
It would be well deserved.
It would be justice for the people he killed.
But.
I don’t want Bea to see it.
It’s one thing for her to know I’ve killed. But to actually see it?
I don’t want that for her.
I don’t want her to look at me differently.
So I swallow back the murderous rage boiling inside me.
And I punch Mack instead.
In the faint light, I watch his eyes flutter shut.
He goes limp.
Then I flip him over, ready to restrain him.
But, shit. My arm. My hand. Of all the things I can do one-handed, tying a man up isn’t one of them.
“Indy!” Bea rushes towards me, scooping up my prosthetic on the way. “Indy.”
Her voice is louder than normal and thick with tears.
She holds out my prosthetic as she drops to her knees beside me. “I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I should have come back sooner. I’m so sorry. What do you want me to do?”
I’m torn between admonishing her for being so reckless and praising her courage.
“Just hold the flashlight while I tie him up,” I finally settle on. Then I wrestle my prosthetic on as quickly as I can and pull out the wad of zip ties I never go anywhere without. In less than a minute, Mack is fully restrained, with his wrists and ankles bound and hogtied behind him.