"We will hurry," he said as he pushed the door shut.
Debbie sucked at her lower lip but didn't speak as she watched him turn away.
The instant Burt and Andre appeared in front of them, Wycoat and Stearns simultaneously holstered their weapons. Stearns, in the passenger's seat nearest the curb, started for the door handle, but before he could reach it, Wycoat stopped him.
"Not now!" Wycoat cautioned as he reached over and held him from leaving. "Remember, we can't take the risk of them or anyone else seeing us. We've got to wait till they're inside. Then we'll make our move. You're to take them in the dorm after they get what they came for. I'll get the girl and drive around back with her where meet you."
Stearns settled back in his seat and watched Burt and Andre as they sprinted toward the building.
When the door closed behind the pair, Wycoat turned to his partner and spoke. "After they've been inside for a couple of minutes you'll go. I'll radio to Walker that we've made contact. The girl's parent's house is only a few minutes away and you'll have plenty of backup if you need it. But remember, no shooting! Not here! Got it?"
Stearns pursed his lips, sat there for a moment and finally nodded to show he understood. All the while he thought to himself, "yeah, asshole! I got it--but you've got an attitude problem! And after this thing's over,
I'm gonna straighten your attitude out!"
Wycoat looked at his watch and when two minutes had passed barked,
"Go! Come on! Now!"
Stearns took a deep breath but made no motion toward the door, this, just to get Wycoat's goat. Then he yanked the door handle and got out slamming the door so hard behind him it caused the glove compartment to fly open.
"Sorry," he said sarcastically through the window before he turned and left.
Wycoat ignored him and instead, picked up the radio to call Walker.
He didn't know it, but when Stearns got out of the car, Burt was already in his room standing at the window facing the street. Burt watched for a moment that seemed to stretch into an hour as Stearns made his way across the lawn. With each step the agent took toward him, Burt's heart began to accelerate.
Burt had suspected that it might be dangerous to come back to his dorm. Yet he had been able to push those thought out of his head throughout most of the trip from Vegas--this, because of the relative ease of their escape. It had given him the confidence he needed to overcome his fears about making the trip back convincing him he could do it easily.
There was only one time he almost changed his mind, that, when he was with Daniel and Debbie in his brother's hospital room. Then, while he talked with his poor crippled brother seated in his wheelchair and watched with guarded pity as Daniel struggled to lift his head to smile at him, he realized had it not been for Daniel he wouldn't be in the situation he was in now. It was at that moment, too, that the irony of what he had accomplished with his experiment sank in. He realized then as he watched the pain in his brother's contorted face, that his successful experiment which he had done to bring hope to the thousands like his brother would, instead, be turned into a means of mass destruction if his secret were allowed to be known by the likes of Huxley. He also knew at that time, that people like Huxley, would stop at nothing to lay claim to his secret-something he couldn't and wouldn't let happen, in spite of the consequence to him.
He had to struggle not to think about that while he talked with Daniel and described what he had done and why he had done it. He was unsure if Daniel understood him, but it really didn't matter. He needed to tell him just the same to cleanse his soul and give meaning to what he was about to do, if nothing else. It was then, while he and Daniel were alone, that the fear he might die if he went back struck home. But he had made up his mind that no matter what the danger, he couldn't let Huxley turn his work into a travesty. Now with Stearns only steps away from his dorm, he realized what a fool he had been to come back and he was scared.
Burt continued to stare out the window unable to move. It wasn't until he saw the other agent with his gun drawn get out of the car and step toward the van and Debbie, that he acted.
He spun around.
"Andre," Burt snapped. "Grab that notebook over there and get the floppy disks."
Andre looked up, but didn't move. He didn't know the meaning of the word 'notebook'.
Rage struck Burt like lightning when he saw Andre hesitate.
"Get the god damned papers on the bed, Andre! On the bed! Get them now! The same agent that took me to Vegas is coming in. They're here and the other one outside has Debbie!"
Andre reacted and hastily grabbed the object Burt had pointed to Parlier. He picked up the notebook and then ran to the window. Below, he saw their van and standing next to it, Debbie and a man. The man was standing behind her, and although he was trying to hide it, Andre saw he had a gun.
Meanwhile, Burt was standing next to his desk stuffing the floppy disks containing the notes on his experiment into his pillowcase when the door burst off its hinges with a crackling roar.
"Freeze, you son of a bitch!" Stearns ordered as he appeared in the doorway.
Burt stood facing the entryway and on seeing Stearns gun in hand silhouetted against the hall light, he immediately dropped the pillow case. Its contents spilled out on the floor as he raised his hands.
In the split second it took for that to happen, Stearns moved forward and wrenched Burt's arm behind him. He had just gotten the gun up and pointed at Burt's head when Andre yelled something in Russian neither Burt nor Stearns understood. Andre then squeezed his eyes shut and focused his telekinetic energy on Stearns wrist and fingers.
Stearns was only able to draw half a breath before it happened.
Every bone from his wrist down to his fingers was instantly pulverized. The sound of a thousand loud cracks filled the air. It was as if someone had recorded the sound of crumbling a handful of shredded wheat, amplified it to rock concert levels and then played it back.
Then the agonizing sound stopped, and when it did, Steam's 357 magnum fell to the floor, no longer capable of being supported by the jellied mass which hung at his wrist like a limp water balloon.
Kamarov grimaced and closed his eyes a second time.
Instantly, Stearns' other hand was pulverized.
The same sickening sound filled the room.
Stearns then brought the bloody bulbous stubs to his face and shrieked in terror when the realization of what had happened hit home.
The pain didn't last long, though, for before he could complete his ululant warble of agony, like the Soviet agent Andre had killed before, Stearns' head was corkscrewed around cutting off his windpipe.
He fell to the floor like a sack of laundry as his legs buckled.
Seeing his assailant right in front of him like that stunned Burt momentarily, but he quickly recovered and reached down and stuffed the diskettes back into the pillowcase. He then picked up Stearns' gun and turned to Andre.
"Come on," he said. "The other guy's got Debbie and we've got to hurry!"
With that, Burt shouldered the pillowcase, took one last look back at his dorm room to be sure he had left nothing that could be used by Huxley's henchmen if they returned and then scrambled out the door, Andre close behind him.
The pair soon reached the door downstairs but stopped short when they saw Wycoat, still holding Debbie, staring at the front of the building.
Burt turned to Andre and knew by his pale face, that his friend's last telekinetic outburst had taken its toll. He also knew then he could no longer rely on Andre's powers to free Debbie as they had him just moments before.
"You don't look so good, Andre! You'll have to stay here," he said putting his hand on the door to leave. He had figured that if he could walk out alone and turn his head quickly away from this new agent that he wouldn't be recognized. He would then work his way around behind him and take him by surprise.
But before he could push the door open, Andre reached up and grabbed his hand. "Yo
u can't do it alone. He's got a gun. He could kill you....and Debbie, if you try something so foolish." He then added, "I can help."
"But you're too weak! I've got to do it." Burt persisted.
"I am weak, but I am not dead, comrade. We must go together--but not through here. He is watching and when he sees the other one is not with us, he may start shooting."
Burt pulled his hand away and stepped out of view from the window. "You're right. So what do we do?"
Andre turned his head and looked up and down both halls and, seeing no alternative route asked, "Is there another door?"
Burt thought for a moment and then remembered a fire door which led to the side of the dormitory. It would be out of sight of the van. It would be perfect! He had been so overwhelmed with their present predicament and with Debbie's safety , he had forgotten completely about it.
"Yes," he exclaimed as he started down the hall. "There is a way! "Follow me!"
The fire door was at the end of the corridor underneath the stairwell from which they had come just minutes before. When they arrived, they saw it was locked, but because the building was old, it only took Burt one swift kick to crack the striker plate and open it. Once outside, they made their way around the back through a service alley until they reached the corner nearest the van.
Burt crouched low and peered around the brick siding and saw the van fifty yards across a barren lawn. It was too far for him to try a shot with Stearns gun, and except for a small eucalyptus tree, there was nothing to obstruct Wycoat's view if he chose to try and run closer for a better position from which to fire.
They were no better off now than they were before, and they had just used up valuable time. Now with each second that passed while they did nothing, they knew Wycoat would be nearing the end of his patience while he waited for Stearns.
The situation appeared hopeless and Burt pulled back from the corner and stood up trying to decide what to do. He looked to Andre, but when he did, he felt a sharp pain in his temple. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to make the pain go away. When he did this, he momentarily lost his balance, but he quickly regained it before Andre noticed anything was wrong.
"We'll never make it, Andre!" he said weakly, still feeling slightly queasy as he leaned against the wall for support.
Andre ignored him, and instead reached down and grabbed a rock from the base of a shrub. He then went to the corner and threw it as hard as he could at the street near their van, hoping that when it hit, the distraction would give him enough time to sprint toward the corner of the van before Wycoat noticed him coming.
Andre watched as the rock arched its way up and then down to the target. When it was just about to hit, he pushed Burt aside and began to run.
The rock hit ten feet in front Wycoat and then skittered across the pavement.
Wycoat heard it and snapped his head toward the sound.
When he spotted the source, he then turned his head sharply back in line with the rock's trajectory to see who threw it.Andre was only half way to him when Wycoat spotted him.
"Stop right there, Dr. Kamarov!" Wycoat barked as he pulled his gun.
Andre slowed, but didn't stop until he was only three feet from him. There, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to repeat what he had done to Stearns earlier. But he was too weak from his previous mental gymnastics and all Wycoat felt as Andre focused on his hand was a mild tingling--as if his hand had briefly fallen asleep. It tickled, in fact, and for a split second, Wycoat lowered the barrel and shook the gun to regain feeling in his fingers.
Andre blinked open his eyes and focused on Wycoat to gage his results and saw he didn't have enough strength to break Wycoat's grip on the weapon. But he could tell by the way the barrel dipped slightly, that he had weakened it.
Instantly he sprang forward and with both hands, he grabbed Wycoat's wrist to complete physically what he couldn't accomplish mentally.
As he lunged forward, Debbie saw it might be her only chance for escape.
She struggled against Wycoat's grip, and with one swift wrench of her hand, she managed to break free.
Now Wycoat stood between them.
Andre continued coming forward, but Wycoat was prepared for the charge.
He raised his pistol and aimed it.
Debbie saw the gun and without thinking, turned and used her fingernails as weapons thrusting them directly toward Wycoat's eyes.
Wycoat parried her right hand by batting it aside and, in so doing, moved the gun enough so when it went off, the bullet only grazed Andre's cheek instead of hitting him in the head as he had intended.
Debbie heard the shot, but was already in motion. Her left hand struck home, her thumbnail gouging a jagged furrow in the flesh from the bridge of Wycoat's nose into the corner of his right eye.
When he felt it strike, he instinctively squeezed his eyes shut and snapped his head away to avoid further clawing.
But Wycoat was too slow this time and her nail continued it course, spearing through his eyelid, lancing finally into the soft flesh of his eyeball.
Wycoat dropped his weapon and threw his hands up to his face and then just stood there and began to wail as blood, tears, and fibrous bits of sclera streamed down his cheeks.
Burt, who had begun running toward them the minute the shot was fired, arrived just as Andre brought the butt of the weapon across the side of Wycoat's head, dazing, but not felling him.
Burt raised his own weapon and pointed it at Wycoat to finish what Andre had started.
Debbie saw him and screamed. "No! You're not a murderer, Burt!"
He hesitated. Andre's drug had lost its effectiveness and he felt the darker side of his personality gaining control. He closed his finger
tighter on the trigger, ignoring Debbie's pleas.
The hammer clicked back.
CCRRRAAAACCCCKKK------ the gun went off!!!
The 357 hollow-point slug rifled out and ripped into Wycoat's shoulder tearing tendons and bone as it did. Wycoat was flung back three feet with the momentum from the slug and hit the ground with a dull thud.
Burt watched as the agent writhed in pain and finally stepped forward slowly raising the gun and pointing it--this time at Wycoat's head.
"N000000000! Burt!!!!" Debbie screamed as she ran to him and grabbed
his arm.
t first Burt resisted, but then he stopped.
He shook his head again, trying to free himself from the grasp of the demons within him. He regained control. This time!
But how many more times could he?
Each time it was becoming more and more difficult.
This time his other personality had gained control and he hadn't even linked.
It was happening just like Dr. Jerome had said it would in his report and he was poised on the edge.
Ready to jump.
To fall and never stop falling. And unable to stop!
But stop he did for some reason he didn't even understand, and when he regained momentary control and realized what he was about to do, he threw the gun to the ground and grabbed Debbie in his arms. The minute the gun hit the ground, Walker's rear screeched around the corner three hundred yards away.
Debbie, Burt and Andre looked up simultaneously.
Terror was etched on their faces with the realization that stopping Stearns and Wycoat had not guaranteed their safety. On the contrary, as the oncoming car drew closer, each knew the situation was still hopeless. No sooner had they escaped one trap than another one was being set for them and soon its noose would draw tight just as the one they had just escaped from had been momentarily loosened.
Debbie turned to Burt and Andre but they both appeared dazed and incapable of action.
It was up to her. She knew she had to make a choice: to stay and give up, or to run.
To give up might mean her own safety, but it would be gained at Burt's and Andre's expense. To run would be far more dangerous.Neither choice seemed acceptable.
She stood
motionless as the car continued toward them, but then she looked down at Wycoat and remembered the gun pressed against her head. The decision was made. She was part of it. She had to run with them in spite of the danger to herself. She quickly moved to the van.
"Get in!" she yelled as she climbed into the driver's seat. Both men stood there a second as if deaf but when Debbie screeched her order a second time they clambered in after her and dove into the back seat out of sight. As they did, she whipped the van into a quick one-eighty and sped away toward the harbor.
In her rear view mirror she saw Walker's car stop and two men get out and run toward Wycoat. A car following them slowed too, and stopped behind the first.
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