Overtaken

by Mark H. Kruger

  “What happened with Dana?” I asked.

  “There are places in my brain she didn’t get to,” he replied. “It took seeing you in danger like that, but it was so clear. You were about to get hurt. I had to do something.”

  His explanation sent one thought blazing across my brain: What about Jackson? If Oliver was moved to action, why wasn’t he? Did he not care about me? Or not care enough?

  “It took me a while to find him,” remarked Topher. “But I didn’t give up. I kept thinking about what you said—that I was the only one who could open his eyes.”

  “And he did,” Oliver chimed in with a warm smile. “I’m so sorry for the way this all happened. I can’t believe what a dick I was.”

  “You were, but it wasn’t your fault,” I said, just relieved to hear Oliver sounding like himself again.

  “I could’ve fought harder,” Oliver retorted guiltily. “I should’ve been stronger.”

  “And I should’ve been a better friend,” I shot back, feeling my own pangs of guilt. “All Dana did was shove a wedge into a crack I created.”

  Chase jumped from behind as his brain kicked back into gear after being blown wide open. “Hate to break up the good vibes,” he interrupted, “but you want to tell them what’s going on?”

  I started to pace as I relayed to my friends the information we’d discovered and the actions Bluni had taken; how we’d ended up in here, with no idea of where Cochran was or what he was up to.

  Oliver was the first to jump in with a semblance of a plan. “Topher, how far away is the bakery from here?”

  “Ten, maybe twelve miles,” answered Topher.

  “That’s where we went for . . . the projection,” Oliver explained to me. “Once I’m back in my body, I can cover that distance and be back here in like two minutes. It might be a fight to get in, but if Topher can find where the keys are, I might be able to break you out.”

  “You aren’t a fighter,” I reminded Oliver, stating the obvious.

  “No, but I am angry,” he countered, holding out his hands and curling them into balls. “This is a fist, right?”

  I grinned. “That’d be it.”

  “Then I think I’m all set,” affirmed Oliver. “And I promise I’ll only fight if I have to. If I’m quick enough, no one will even notice I’m here.”

  I glanced over at Chase and Topher. “Work for you guys?” They both shrugged their approval. No objections.

  “Okay then,” Oliver said, nodding at Topher. “See you all in a few.” Oliver and Topher blinked out of sight. And just like that they were gone.

  “You really think this will work?” Chase pressed, doubt written all over his face.

  “No idea,” I replied honestly.

  “Has Oliver ever thrown a punch outside of a video game?” Chase asked, trying to muster up a bit of humor in an otherwise grim situation.

  “It’s the only option we have,” I reminded him. “If Oliver says he can handle it, my fingers are crossed and my hopes are high. Have a little faith.”

  After a few quiet minutes with no sign of Oliver’s arrival, I began to worry that my own faith was misplaced. Chase knew better than to point out that it had been much longer than my speed demon friend had predicted, but the silence just made me antsy. I looked through the small window in the door and noticed the hallway our cell was in had a wall of security monitors on the other side. No one was posted to watch them—was all of Bar Tech Security still downtown, cleaning up Maya’s mess?—so I was free to observe the dozens of different angles feeding in from all around the facility. I scanned past labs and meeting rooms, bathrooms and hallways, but didn’t see any indication that Oliver had arrived.

  Come on, man. Where are you?

  My eyes drifted to a segment of monitors focused on the perimeter of the building. Dozens of attentive guards were still on patrol. So much for my hope that Maya had been a large enough distraction to make this any easier on Oliver. One screen displayed a lonely back corner of the structure, a single guard leaning against the wall by a door. I looked past it—

  —and right back as something blasted out of the nearby tree line and clocked the guard in the temple. The force nearly knocked him off his feet, and in an instant, Oliver appeared on-screen. He tried the door, but it was locked. He stooped and searched the guard for a keycard. Seconds later, he was in.

  I nudged Chase. He looked at me questioningly.

  “He’s here!” He joined me at my side and peered through the slot. I pointed out a second monitor, where I’d picked up Oliver’s journey into the facility, then a third, then a fourth. He was tough to follow, popping from hallway to hallway, but he was making his way to us when he stopped and whipped around, like something spooked him. There was nothing there, but he seemed to look relieved and started talking to someone. Topher! After a few seconds, Oliver grinned and sped off the way he’d come. I lost him, but Chase picked him up three screens over and four down. He peered through a thick window, checkered with reinforcement wire, that looked in on a large office. That must be where the keys are kept.

  “No way he’s getting in there,” mumbled Chase, coming to the same conclusion. Oliver looked around and blasted down the hallway, where he lifted a sizable trash can off the ground. A second later, the wastebasket burst through the glass like a rock through paper. An alarm began to sound as Oliver hopped in through the busted glass. Chase was shocked. “How’d he do that?”

  “Speed,” I realized aloud. “Inertia. Once an object starts moving at a certain speed, it’ll keep going that speed, even if he stops. Like in a car accident.” I shuddered at the memory of the wreck I’d experienced in Oliver’s mother’s backseat.

  “So however fast he can run . . . ,” Chase added, mulling over the ramifications of inertia.

  “. . . that’s how fast he can throw anything he can hold,” I chimed back, completing the science lesson.

  Bzzzzzt! The door lock disengaged and Oliver popped it open. He ran in for a hug, which I returned at full strength. He turned to Chase, arms wide—

  —and paused. Chase was not diving in to reciprocate the embrace. The brothers looked each other up and down, wary. There was no spite, but no warmth either. Chase extended a closed fist. Oliver gave him a pound. They both offered a small nod of understanding. This would do for now.

  “Now can we get the hell outta here?” I asked as I eagerly strode out of the detention cell.

  If we could’ve run as fast as Oliver, the escape would’ve been so much smoother. From caged to free in ten seconds flat. That wasn’t happening. Our legs were still stuck in first, while Oliver zipped down each new hall like a race car with a brick on the gas pedal. After making sure each was clear, he’d gesture for us to follow and we’d catch up as fast as we could. This worked for the first few floors we ascended through the mazelike complex, but we were quickly met with resistance. The alarm triggered by Oliver’s trashcan-through-the-window trick was still wailing, and the sound was drawing guards—not just from outside, but from within the recesses of Bar Tech as well. We could hear them pounding down the same stairs we were galloping up, and Oliver signaled for us to turn around. Speed wasn’t necessarily in our favor anymore. Hiding would have to do.

  We dove under the stairwell as gruff shouts and thick boots clattered by. I squeezed Chase’s hand and wished I could vanish. More than anything, I wished that I could make Chase vanish with me, too. None of this was his doing, but here he was, being hunted just like one of us. When the last guard passed through the door, we hustled back up the stairs. We were going to have to rely on the world’s fastest teenager to get us out in one piece.

  “There they are!” The shout came from behind us, from a burly guy with a beard that wrapped his face like a werewolf’s.

  Oliver looked for something to throw. Nothing. The hall was white and bare. The security guard held up an automati
c weapon—whether it was loaded with bullets or a beanbag, we had no way of knowing—and barked at us to freeze. Chase and I obeyed. We were caught, and our hands went up. Oliver made a familiar fist. He didn’t think he could take this guy, did he?

  Fwoom! Oliver fired himself down the hall like a human rocket. My eyes couldn’t even trace him until he was less than a foot from our captor, where he emerged from his speedy blur with his fist aimed for that bearded chin. Knuckles met jaw with a crack, and the guard dropped to the floor as Oliver rolled past him and sprang back to his feet. He brushed himself off and jogged back over to us.

  Chase enveloped him in a massive bear hug. Oliver’s voice was a muffled struggle as he gasped for air until his brother let him go. “We cool?”

  “We’re cool,” Chase announced with an approving nod.

  It was only a short sprint to the exit, and we found ourselves outside, alone in the dark, with most of the Bar Tech Security force still confusedly scurrying through the building behind us. Oliver ground us to a halt.

  “Wait here.”

  “For what?” I shouted, ready to run until my body collapsed, just to be away from this place. Oliver pointed at a pair of headlights growing larger in the distance.

  “Our chariot awaits.”

  In a few seconds, a large white Ebinger’s Bakery van with Topher behind the wheel screeched to a stop in front of us. Oliver rolled the sliding door back and ushered Chase and me inside. We froze at the sound of a dozen guns being cocked and aimed at our backs. A single pair of hands began to clap.

  “And Cochran says you’re all like Maya,” a familiar voice proclaimed. “You’re much more in control and far less dangerous.”

  I turned to see Mr. Bluni leading a phalanx of guards closer and closer to our position. Even though his words were big, I could tell he was a little uneasy, approaching us like we were kicked pit bulls, ready to attack.

  “Grab them!” Bluni ordered the guards.

  Oliver and I didn’t even need to speak—he knew to run. Just like I’d told Topher when I was barely hanging on to the remnants of the Bridge, it was better for one of us to remain free than none of us.

  A few of the guards spun and peppered the road with shots, but Oliver was too fast to be hit. He’d already cleared the road, vanished into the woods, and was probably halfway to Denver. Topher was yanked from the driver’s seat and tossed into the back of the van with Chase and me. Bluni hopped in with three guards. Two more took the front.

  “Where are you taking us?” I demanded to know as my wrists were bound once again with a zip tie.

  “To offer a trade,” Bluni replied after a moment of consideration. As soon as Chase and Topher’s wrists were tied to match mine, Bluni pounded on the wall between the drivers and us. “Move!”

  The van lurched out of the lot and peeled around the back of the Bar Tech offices. I tried to keep Bluni talking as the vehicle left the smooth pavement of the lot and hit a much bumpier patch of road. The rocky ride reminded me of the bus ride to the lodge, only that hadn’t taken us anywhere near Bar Tech. We were going somewhere else entirely.

  “Whatever you want,” I said, “we can’t help you.”

  Bluni scoffed. “Maybe you can’t, but your boyfriend here can.” He focused his eyes on Chase.

  “Just say it, man,” Chase responded. “I’ll do it.”

  I shot Chase a look. He didn’t have to give in that easily.

  “She was right about your dad,” Bluni declared. “He took a company helicopter, and we tracked him on his way to the top of Whiteface. Probably getting there as we speak. I assume that’s where he’s going to set off his charges and destroy my work.”

  Your work, I sneered in my head. Bluni was talking about our entire town. Our home. Many lives. To him it was all just an experiment, one wrapped up in his ego and lust for power.

  “But I’m gonna offer Cochran a trade. He gives up,” Bluni stated as he whipped a pistol from behind his back and leveled it at Chase’s head. “And I won’t kill you in front of him. All you have to do is convince him to let you live.”

  Fear gripped Chase’s face. He could tell Bluni wasn’t bluffing with idle threats.

  Chase turned to look at me.

  Bluni shook his head. “She can’t help. This is on you.”

  I looked to Topher to see how he was handling the turn of events and noticed his eyes were focused on a point far, far away. At first I thought his almost catatonic state was brought on by stress, but then I remembered the times I’d caught him “daydreaming” at work. He wasn’t trying to retreat into his head. He was projecting. But where to? What was he looking for? Maybe he was trying to find help. I couldn’t ask him, so I decided to try to stall and give him the time he needed to complete his mission.

  Before I could say a word, I saw Topher’s eyes suddenly spark back to life. “He’s here!” Topher’s words were urgent and joyous.

  I had no idea what he meant and neither did Bluni, but he wasn’t taking any chances. “Who’s here?” he demanded.

  Topher refused to answer. His eyes were wild, his skin slicked with the slightest sweat. It was clear he knew something that we didn’t, like he’d just returned from some sort of religious journey. Maybe he had.

  Bluni cocked his gun and pointed it at Topher’s chest. “Who. Is. Here?”

  Suddenly, the sliding door rumbled wide open as if to present an answer. The guard closest to it turned, surprised, and was yanked off balance by an unseen force. He hit the floor at a strange angle and had time only to shout once before tumbling out the door and into the night.

  Bluni pivoted and fired two shots at whatever had taken the guard, but there was nothing there to catch his lead. The dark, snowy woods raced by, the wind reached in and slapped at our faces, but neither man nor beast presented itself as the culprit. Bluni inched toward the door, gun thrust out ahead of him. He steadied himself with one hand as the van continued to sprint over the rough-and-tumble road, unaware that a man had just been lost.

  I was so close to leaning forward and shoving Bluni with all my might, sending him to join his unlucky employee on the side of the secluded road, but the other guards were too close. If I pushed Bluni, they might decide I was the next to go, or worse, just put a bullet in me. I gritted my teeth and let him explore. I settled back next to Chase and Topher, who was staring off again, back on whatever adventure he—BANG! BANG! BANG!

  Bluni leaped back, firing wildly. “Someone on the roof!” he shouted, and his men leaped into action. On a matched-three count, they threw open the back doors, ready to blow away whatever they saw. But again: nothing. The man on the right gestured to the man on the left to move forward with him. They took their time, step after step, Bluni at their back. I saw another opportunity to move in for the tackle, but I couldn’t take the chance that one of them would turn and fire as we charged. Chase edged forward, but I nudged him back and shook my head. He and I would wait until we knew what was going on.

  Even with the side and back doors open, it was eerily quiet in the van as the trio peered around each door and checked on top of the roof.

  “Nothing, sir,” reported the guard on the left.

  I didn’t believe it was nothing. Either Bluni was losing his mind more every minute, or somebody was toying with us. My instincts told me the other shoe was about to drop, but I couldn’t ever have predicted it would come down swinging and screaming through the open panel in the side of the van.

  In the form of Topher. Who, amazingly, was still sitting right next to me.

  The guards and Bluni didn’t realize the second Topher was just an illusion. All they knew was that they couldn’t shoot at him. If they missed, the bullets would tear through the thin metal partition separating us from the front and possibly kill the driver. One of the guards took a swing and lost his balance as his hand passed right through the projection’s fa
ce. Momentum carried him off his feet and into the wall. If he hadn’t cleared out of the way, I don’t know if I ever would’ve seen the completely unnatural gust of whirling, swirling snow tumbling along the road behind the van. It looked like the Tasmanian devil was right behind us, which could mean only one thing.

  No way. It was Oliver, hot on our heels. He must’ve been the one to open the door and yank the guard out, and now he was catching back up to us to finish the chaos that Topher started. There weren’t many steps left for Bluni and his men to take before they’d find themselves falling out of their ride, and Topher’s “angry ghost” act was proving effective at shrinking that distance to a razor’s edge.

  The remaining guard caught me looking over his shoulder, at Oliver right behind him, and spun around. Without breaking his incredible stride, Oliver grabbed the man’s weapon and twisted it, directing a burst of fire harmlessly to the ground. The guard tightened his grip on the gun, and Oliver came to a complete stop—for just long enough to rip the shooter out of the van. Before he’d even bounced off the road, Oliver took off for us again.

  With just Bluni and one Bar Tech goon left, it seemed like we actually had a shot at making it out of this. With a cry, I leaped to my feet, lowered my shoulder, and charged at an unprepared Bluni. I caught him in his gut, doubling him over and sending him out the back. He dropped his gun and grabbed the wildly flapping back door, clinging to it by his fingertips.

  At the same time, Oliver sped up and jumped onto the second door, slamming it shut into the face of the remaining guard. The guard flew back toward Chase, who head-butted him in the chest and sent him tumbling out the side door. Even with his wrists bound, Chase was able to slam the side door shut, leaving us three on one to finish Bluni. He’d already crawled his way back inside. Disarmed, but no less dangerous, he tackled Chase into the rigid metal wall. WHANG! The back of Chase’s head ricocheted off and left him dazed. I connected with Bluni from behind. He whipped around and shoved me back, dangerously close to the rear door that still hung wide open. Oliver was no longer right behind us. He was nowhere to be seen.