(no subject)

39.

It began again, only this time he knew where the probing of his head was coming from. The bad guys wanted something from him, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t even know if he knew what it was if they asked him directly.

First came upsetting images, things used to break his spirit.

Images of David in a hospital bed with tubes coming out of him, just like how Grandpa looked before he finally died.

Then images of both his Mother and Father in danger.

When he didn’t respond, they tried something else.

This one didn’t help them.

They showed someone holding a puppy, and putting a gun to its head.

It was so silly Mickey laughed. He was sure there was no puppy, and was heartened that they were getting a little desperate.

Then they went too far. They showed him someone in David’s hospital room. He still couldn’t tell if it was real or created. He prayed for the second. The person in the vision was unknown to him.

The person in the hospital room walked over to the machines connected to the tubes and started turning things off. Alarms began going off and the point of view of the vision turned to show the door. He at
once knew that that door was locked. It wouldn’t stop help from getting there, but it might delay it long enough.

“Damn you people,” Mickey thought without planning to, and immediately knew it was a mistake.

The vision became only the image on the heart monitor. The clicking slowed, and then it stopped. The flat line buzzed.

“If you have really hurt my brother,” He thought, “I will kill you all.”

He thought he might have heard laughing.

Then, the building shook. In the distance he heard an explosion.

Throop, Sanna & a couple of non-descript “henchmen” cam through the door. They cut the ropes that held him to the chair and lifted him in the air.

One of them flew hard into the roof.

Throop couldn’t move, but didn’t know he couldn’t be hurt either.

The one holding Mickey jetted into a wall, but when he dropped the boy, Sanna grabbed him, her eyes were encircled with a flash of electrical static, and then she gave him another powerful shock.

Throop slowly walked into his fading line of sight.

“So much for saving anyone, you little pusswart.” He said, just as Mickey was passing out.

But, before he did, Mickey did something he had never even thought of doing in his life.

Something that would have made him apologize to his mother.

But here, it was right.

He looked up at his detractor and flipped him the bird.

(c) 2005 by C. Wayne Owens

(no subject)

40.

This time, when he awoke, he really couldn’t see. His face was covered by some kind of metal headgear that shut off light and sound. He seemed to be breathing alright; otherwise he really would have panicked.

He was in some sort of vehicle, he could tell by the vibration. It was a smooth, fast rumbling, he was thinking a car on a really smooth road or something more advanced.

He wondered if this metal mask was to keep him from communicating with Beverly and the other Inheritor folks and giving away their position. He tried to reach out, but there didn’t seem to be anyone there listening.

There were no longer the explosions and rumblings that he had thought might be a rescue attack. The bad guys may have gotten him out of there quick enough to move him to another location.

He was sure they would find him, it just might take a while.

Until then, he was on his own.

His hands were once again secured to whatever chair he was sitting in, so he couldn’t reach up and try to take off the helmet. It was disconcerting to be unable to hear anything around him. That, of course, was the point.

They wanted him to give up.

Fat chance.

The restraints on his arms were pretty flexible, so there was some room to work. He felt with his fingers for the kind of arm he was secured to, and found it was again like an office chair.

There was metal, with some form of fabric covering.

He wasn’t going to be able to hide any escape attempts from them, so he could only hope they, like most supervillains, were over confident and not paying any attention.

He dug into the fabric with his fingernails and found that it could be moved. He began to move it left and right as far as it would go. He was using just his left hand, since they would be less likely to notice one hand and would expect more activity to come from his dominant hand.

It seemed forever, but he finally got the fabric to move. He began to get it loose. His hope was to bunch it up enough to allow more room within the circle of his bonds. Much like escape artists used to inflate their
muscles just before being restrained, so, later, they could work their way out of bonds because they relaxed their muscles and had more “play” to deal with.

He felt metal! That meant he had pulled the fabric back enough to get to the metal underneath. His wrist was held more firmly as he bunched the upholstery backwards.

But his hand had enough play to move around the tiniest bit.

He looped a finger around a strand of rope and pulled itfrom above it to below. Then he did another, and flipped the pair over the end of the metal and away from his hand. Then he did it with another, and another.

It was only a few minutes before he had loosed enough of the wrapping that he could return the fabric, and feel the freedom around his hand.

A pull and he found the knot.

He had done this in practice, and it wasn’t much harder
in real life. He used his forefinger and thumb to feel out the formation of the knot. It was a pretty simple, straightforward tie.

He got through it quickly.

He prayed they were not watching him and laughing at his escape attempt.

The knot gave way.

He was pretty proud of himself, but didn’t want to get to confident.

Haltingly, without giving away too much, he pulled his hand free. He reached up and found the catch on the side of the mask and clicked it loose.

The edge of the mask opened slightly and he could perceive the room around him. There was no one in this room with him.

Hurriedly he pulled the mask from his head and looked around.

He was in a train of sorts, and the world was whizzing by out the only window.

Before they got back he was going to untie his other hand.

As he set too the task, he heard the handle to the door across the cabin begin to turn.

With a frenzy he untied the knot, just as the door opened.

Throop and Sanna came into the cabin and saw him. Throop flew up and hit the ceiling, and then the wall, and then the floor and then the wall and then the ceiling again. He then slumped to the floor.

Sanna could not move a single muscle. Nor could anyone get past her in the doorway into the cabin. She had become, in essence, a roadblock that couldn’t be hurt.

Mickey went out the door at the other end of the cabin.

He wished he could make inanimate objects fly, so he could send that whole car flying off into space. He imagined the entire massive metal tube flying into the sun, and while it was far beyond his abilities, it
was momentarily grin producing.

As he entered the forward car he encountered something new and something old. There, sitting in a room that could have been a living room in someone’s home, were two figures.

One was a large black cloud, shaped like a human (sort of) with a constantly billowing surface that had an accompanying rumbling. The sound was altogether disheartening.

The other resident of the room was Vane. The two of them had been talking. They looked up at Mickey as if pleasantly surprised.

“Well done, little one,” The Cloud Being rumbled, “We were wondering if there was more to you that just being an enabler.”

At this point he was pushed from behind into the room by muscle guys who were obviously in the employ of people who wished him ill.

“You have exceeded expectations,” Vane said, sporting a large, salesman’s smile.

Sanna entered the room and threatened to hit Mickey with another blast, but Vane waved her off.

“Please, my boy, sit down,” The Cloud Being said.

“You must have a cup of tea,” Vane offered.

“We have a business proposition for you,” The Rumbling continued, “Sort of a ‘do our bidding’ or ‘end of life’ sort of thing.”

Vane and the creature snickered.

Mickey’s heart fell to his feet.

(c) 2005 by C. Wayne Owens