“HOW MUCH TIME DO we have left?” Dee asked, scrambling to her feet.
Ethan glanced at his watch. “Two and a half minutes.”
“Shit.” Dee stepped over a severed foot, still in its black Mary Jane, and peeked around the edge of the wall, fully expecting the missing sister to leap out at her from the shadows. Instead she saw that the hotel hallway abruptly ended at two double doors that opened into the next room. “We have to hurry.”
“On it.” Ethan put one foot on the inert fire extinguisher and wrenched the ax out of the canister. “Now I have a machine gun. Ho-ho-ho.”
“That’s not a machine gun.”
Ethan rolled his eyes. “It’s from Die Hard.”
His favorite. “Of course it is.”
The doors opened onto a massive space spanning the full three stories that Dee had seen from the outside. The walls were pale yellow, the fluorescents so bright they stung her eyes, but even as she blinked against the painful light, she saw the tank in the middle of the room.
They’d made it.
The water was near the top, less than a foot from the lid that the Hardy Girls had padlocked into place. Nyles and Griselda had kicked off their shoes and managed to free themselves from the ropes. They were treading water, their faces just barely visible above the waterline.
The camera, a massive hooded creature like the kind used on movie and television shoots, stood on a tripod across the room, but as much as Dee wanted to watch Ethan take his ax to the wretched thing, they didn’t have time.
“Ethan!” she cried, pointing to the tank. “Break the glass!”
“On it.” He raced forward, ax raised above his head, and brought the head down against the side of the tank with all his strength.
A teeny-tiny dent appeared in the glass.
“Shit!” Ethan said.
“Keep at it,” Dee instructed. “I’ll try to kill the water.”
Ethan whaled away on the side of the tank while Dee crouched beside the thick fireman’s hose. It looked as if it should unscrew easily, but the metric shit-ton of water surging through its thick fibers made the hose impossibly heavy. Dee tried to twist the end, but the water pressure kept the docking mechanism firmly in place.
Maybe Ethan could get it to budge? He’d managed to open the dent into a large crack, but hadn’t broken through the tank just yet. Dee started to call him over, but the words never made it out of her mouth.
As she looked up, she found Nyles’s face in front of hers. He was submerged, his dirty-blond hair swirly around his narrow features, and he was pointing furiously at something behind Dee.
Dee was still processing Nyles’s warning when she saw a reflection in the glass. Just a momentary flash of shiny metal against the thick tank wall as the surviving Hardy Girl brought down her ax, aiming straight for Dee’s head.
Dee had a split second to react. She dove forward, over the hose, and felt the rush of air as the blade missed her by inches.
But it didn’t miss the hose. The momentum of the Hardy Girl’s swing severed it clean in half.
The massive canvas hose flopped onto the floor like a snake whose head had been cut off. It slithered away, gushing water onto the concrete. More importantly, without its fuel source the tank began to drain.
Which was awesome for Nyles and Griselda, who were only inches away from being completely submerged. Not as awesome for Dee, who was cornered by the Hardy Girl.
“You killed my sister,” she said, the singsong voice from the Grady Girls impression totally abandoned.
Dee slid back, arms and legs slipping in the thin layer of water that coated the floor. “Ethan!” she screamed, but he was still swinging away against the tank wall and didn’t seem to hear her over the rush of water and the cracking of safety glass.
“No one’s going to help you now, Cinderella Survivor.” She raised the ax over her head. “A hundred million spikes coming my way.”
Dee raised her arm in front of her face, expecting to feel the blade slice into her skin. Instead she heard a thud, and then the Hardy Girl staggered sideways. Her ax clattered to the floor, and she collapsed into a pile, eyes open, her head at an unnatural angle.
Behind her, fire extinguisher in hand, was Mara.
It took some work to get Nyles and Griselda out of the tank. Ethan finally managed to break through the thick double-paned glass, but it didn’t shatter; instead, a spiderweb of cracks spread outward from the epicenter of Ethan’s blows, like it was a car windshield in an accident. Then he used the ax blade to wrench bits of the pane away until there was a space large enough for Nyles and Griselda. He hooked the ax through a belt loop on his pants and lifted Griselda to safety.
“Don’t I get a thank-you kiss?” he asked.
“If by kiss you mean punch…” She nailed him in the shoulder. “Then yes.”
“Damn, girl.” Ethan dropped her and rubbed his shoulder. “That’s the last time I save your life.”
Nyles tossed their shoes out of the tank, then tried to haul himself through the hole. He had to contort his long, thin body in order to fit, rotating his hips to the point where he was flopped on his back, stuck. “A little help here?”
Ethan looped his arms around Nyles’s torso and dragged him to safety, breaking off a giant chunk of the double pane in the process. He then spun Nyles around in a circle, his legs flailing like a kite’s tail while water droplets sprayed the room, before placing him back on his feet.
“Er, do you want a thank-you kiss from me as well?” Nyles asked.
Ethan held up his hand. “Nah, I only like hot dudes.”
Nyles wrinkled his upper lip while he wiped bits of crumbled glass from his soaking-wet pajama bottoms. “Can someone tell me what in the bloody hell just happened?”
“You, me, death averted,” Griselda replied.
But Nyles wasn’t listening. “The ambassador will hear about this. I have diplomatic immunity!”
“Wait!” Ethan cried, holding up both of his hands.
Nyles looked confused. “Huh?”
Ethan crouched in front of him, his right hand forming a gun aimed right at Nyles. “Say it again.”
“Say what?”
“The same thing you say, like, twenty times a day.”
Nyles tilted his head to the side. “That I have diplomatic immunity?”
“BAM!” Ethan pretended to fire the gun. “It’s just been revoked.”
Nyles turned to Dee. “Any idea what he’s talking about?”
Dee couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s one of his action movies, I think.”
Ethan blew on his finger gun like he was putting out a candle. “Lethal Weapon Two. I’ve been waiting months for someone to try and kill you so I could use that line.”
“You realize how disturbed you sound right now,” Nyles said. “Yes?”
Ethan sighed, bliss radiating from every pore. “That was better than a kiss. Thank you, dude.”
“Can we get out of here?”
Dee turned around and the laughter died on her lips. Mara still stood over the Hardy Girl she’d killed, staring down at her with unblinking eyes. She looked shaky, as if she was about to vomit or pass out, or both.
“What the hell is she doing here?” Griselda asked as she wrung water from the hem of her skirt. Though the words had Griselda’s usual hard edge, her face was paler than usual. It was the closest thing Dee had seen to fear from her coworker.
“This is Mara,” Dee said quickly, rushing to her side. “My neighbor.”
“She used to work at the bodega,” Ethan added.
“I know who she is,” Griselda snapped. “But why is she here? Now?”
Dee smiled. “She’s the one who knew where to find you guys.”
Nyles was immediately interested. “How?”
Mara blinked, pulling her eyes away from the Hardy Girl. Her pale skin was drained of all color. “The Hardy Girls always use the same location,” she began. “I compared old photos of structures on the
island—”
“Until you found one that was similar in size,” Nyles interjected, finishing her thought. He spoke quickly, obviously excited. “And then cross-referenced that with historical records until you found a perfect match?”
“Um, yeah,” Mara said. “I used to study The Postman’s killers all the time. You know, before.”
“Not weird at all,” Griselda said sarcastically.
But instead of being intimidated, Mara appraised Griselda like a doctor examining a patient. “I thought it might come in handy if I ever ended up in here.”
“And since that information just saved our lives,” Nyles exclaimed, “I say well done!” He grabbed Mara’s hand and pumped it up and down vigorously. “An absolutely brilliant execution of the scientific method.”
“We helped too,” Ethan said.
“Yes, of course.” He shook Ethan’s hand, then grabbed Dee and hugged her tightly. “I really do appreciate it.”
Dee felt the heat rising to her cheeks as Nyles released her. “You’d have done the same for me.”
“You sure about that, Princess?”
If she was honest with herself, she probably wasn’t sure that Nyles or Ethan or Griselda would have come to her aid. She wasn’t sure if her actions made her a better person, or just incredibly stupid.
“Yes,” she said, meeting Griselda’s cool gaze. “Yes, I am.”
SUNNY SKIES MET DEE and her bedraggled friends as they emerged from the brig and made their way back to Main Street. Ethan spent the trip relating his adventures during the rescue attempt, adding elements from his favorite action flicks.
“And then there was this massive explosion,” he said, trotting backward to face Griselda. “Shit was flying everywhere. I threw myself in front of Dee to protect her.”
“It’s a shame you weren’t killed,” Griselda said.
“Right?” Ethan said, totally oblivious to her sarcasm. “I mean, I should have died like five times. Maybe ten.” He patted the ax dangling at his side. “But it takes more than a couple of chicks with axes to take me out.”
Dee didn’t correct him on the details. Not worth it. She couldn’t have saved Nyles and Griselda on her own, and she figured that by risking his life to help, Ethan had earned the right to tell the story in whatever way he chose.
“I can’t wait to see how I look on film,” he added.
“Yes,” Nyles said absently. “I’m sure you can’t.”
While Ethan was basking in the glory of his very own action movie, Nyles was oddly silent, his mood growing more somber every minute. He lagged behind, and once or twice Dee caught him glancing up at her from beneath lowered brows. His face was troubled, matching his thoughts, and Dee was pretty sure she knew exactly what he was thinking.
He’d almost died. And it was all Dee’s fault.
“I’m sorry,” she said to him quietly, dropping into step beside him.
“For what?”
“I think that Hardy Girls thing was because of me.”
His lips curved into a tight smile. “I suppose it was bound to happen eventually.”
Dee was pretty sure he was trying to alleviate her guilt, but she wasn’t sure either of them believed it.
“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” he said, shaking off the brooding mood that had fallen over him, evincing some of his signature charm. “That’s when they get you.”
First Blair was taken at night; now Griselda and Nyles. Dee was pretty sure she would never sleep again.
They headed to the gym, where Ethan washed the camo paint off his face while Nyles and Griselda changed into dry clothes. Mara sat quietly on a weight bench, her calm pose in direct conflict with her jittery, fidgeting hands.
“Why didn’t you return to the Barracks?” Dee asked. She’d never wanted to get Mara involved.
A tiny smile crept up the sides of Mara’s face. “I meant to. But, I don’t know. I realized you might need help.”
“Thank you.” The words seemed totally inadequate. “For saving my life.”
“You’re welcome.”
“One hundred million spikes?” Ethan gaped at the TV screen as he emerged from the men’s room, wiping his face with a towel. “Dude, that’s got to be a record.”
The video played on a loop, straight through from the moment Dee and Ethan entered the old prison. Usually by now The Postman would have chopped up the video, adding slo-mo edits and commentary, breaking the feed into different camera angles showing in different windows on the screen, but not this time. Just the facts, from beginning to end, and the only embellishments came from the fan commentary scrolling up the side.
It had been twenty minutes since the rescue, but already the Postmantics had come up with a special name for Dee and her friends.
Death Row Breakfast Club—and the #DRBC hashtag—was trending hard.
Someone had even photoshopped an image of the movie poster for The Breakfast Club with the faces of Dee, Mara, Griselda, Ethan, and Nyles superimposed onto the actors and actresses.
Dee scowled as she realized that she’d been cast as the prissy princess Claire, though she had to admit it was accurate, based on her wardrobe. Ethan was every bit the jock. Mara was kind of a basket case. Gender aside, if ever there was a grating smartass like Bender, it was certainly Griselda. And Nyles was perfect as—
“The nerd?” Nyles leaned against the wall, shaking the excess water from his damp hair as he gazed dejectedly at the screen. “You can’t be serious.”
Griselda arched an eyebrow. “Who did you expect to be? The jock?”
“No, not exactly.”
“The hot one?” she pressed.
Nyles wrinkled his upper lip. “If by ‘hot one’ you mean the tall, masculine bloke wearing too many layers of clothes, then yes, I suppose I fit that mold more closely than you do.”
“Why?” Mara asked. “Because she has a vagina?”
“’S okay, dude.” Ethan held his fist out to Nyles for a bump. “That actor turned out to be smokin’ hot. There’s still hope for you.”
Nyles exhaled slowly, far from mollified. “This might be the most depressing conversation of my life.”
The room fell silent and heavy with unspoken words. No one wanted to start a substantive conversation in front of the cameras, but Dee didn’t need her friends to say anything to know what they were thinking. Now it wasn’t just Dee with a target on her back. The Death Row Breakfast Club had thwarted The Postman’s plans and killed two more of his Painiacs. There was no way he’d let that slide.
“I’m surprised he’s showing the video all the way through,” Mara said, her eyes glued to the footage of Ethan spraying the hallway with extinguisher foam. “Does he really want the world to watch us kill two of his executioners?”
“One hundred million views is why,” Nyles said. He eyed the nearest camera. “That’s the most spikes I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m hungry,” Ethan said, standing up.
“Shocking,” Griselda replied.
Ethan grabbed a clean T-shirt and pulled it over his head. “Let’s go to the bodega.”
“I didn’t exactly remember to bring my card with me when I was kidnapped,” Nyles said.
“’S okay, dude. My treat.”
Without a better plan in mind, they followed Ethan out of the gym.
“I’m gonna get two beefy rice bowls,” Ethan continued, bouncing on his toes like a child as they approached the market. He gripped the door handle with his meaty hand. “And a protein bar. And—”
He tugged on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. The bodega was locked.
“What the fuck?” Ethan said, rattling the locked doors back and forth. Dee was half surprised the lock didn’t give. “It’s feeding time, Rodrigo. Open up!”
Nyles peered through the window. “The lights are off. I don’t think anyone’s been here today.”
Dee didn’t like this. First the missing deliveries, and now the store was closed altogether. “Is there a back doo
r?”
Mara nodded. “Usually locked, but you never know.”
They had to loop back down to the gym in order to access the alley that ran behind the businesses on Main Street. It was littered with cardboard boxes, strewn about after the last delivery, most likely, and dusty milk crates.
“What’s today?” Mara asked as Ethan pounded on the back door.
“Wednesday.”
“There should have been a delivery yesterday.”
Griselda nodded. “Same at I Scream.” She gazed down the alley at the back of the ice-cream shop. “I don’t see anything.”
“Dudes, I’m starving to death,” Ethan whined. “What are we going to do?”
“Aren’t there bananas and stuff at the shop?” Dee asked.
“We’ll have to go back to the Barracks to get the key,” Griselda said.
“Fuck that,” Ethan said. He raced down the alley to the back door of I Scream, and without slowing down, barreled into it.
Dee half expected the metal door to implode due to the force of Ethan’s impact, but it held firm, and Ethan bounced like a tennis ball smacked with an inside-out backhand.
“Damn it!” He rubbed his forearm. “That fucking hurt.”
Griselda snorted. “Try it with your head next time.”
“Or your ax?” Mara suggested, pointing to the weapon dangling from Ethan’s belt.
Ethan stared at the door ruefully. “Schwarzenegger would have used his shoulder.”
“Or…” Nyles grabbed the handle. “He might have tried the doorknob.”
“I locked it,” Griselda said. “Last night.”
But when Nyles tugged, the back door swung open easily.
“What the fuck is going on?” Griselda’s voice was sharp, on edge.
Mara sucked in a breath. “It’s a trap. One of the killers is inside.”
“Who cares?” Ethan whipped out his ax and barreled through the open door. “I’ve got a fucking ax now.”
They tentatively followed him inside as Ethan swept through I Scream with his ax raised, expecting to find a Painiac lurking in the freezer unit or under one of the tables, but there was clearly no one hiding in the shop. Though visibly disappointed, Ethan found solace in making a child’s dream breakfast of banana splits. He dropped the ax on the counter and proceeded to scoop massive balls of strawberry ice cream into a bowl.
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